Strange as it may seem, this life is based on a true story." - Ashleigh Brilliant
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Tuesday, September 02, 2003
It isn't Monday, but it feels like Monday, and that's bad enough.
While most of my friends jet-setted to interesting locales for the holiday, Brandon and Jackie went to Chicago, John and Missy drove to Florida, and Rose went on a delightful sounding camping trip, I opted to stay home and spend Monday with my Mom.
See, Mom and I love to drive around - we love just going on strange, little road trips to strange, little places. We left my apartment around 10:30 am Monday morning and found ourselves in Livingston parish. For those of you not from around here, let me just say now...this is area is mainly made up of weird rednecks. What is a "weird redneck", you ask? Just spend a day driving around Livingston parish and you'll know.
For starters, I want someone, please, to tell me what in the hell this thing is?! Mom and I were driving past it, when I uttered an "omfg" and pointed. We were thoroughly creeped out and spent some time just trying to figure out why Cement Man had originally been put up. There's nothing around him, no signs or anything to indicate the reason for his presence. He resides on the corner of two roads around Oak Grove...I had nightmares of him walking around the field behind him at night, eating the flesh of young children who'd gone to mudride in there. -shiver-
Our day ended at Ruby Tuesdays, back in the "safety" of Baton Rouge. We spent a few hours just talking over watered-down, two-for-one beers before heading home.
Our Saturday night trip to Mulatte's was a blast. It ended up being me and Baret, my Mom and Dad, my brother and grandpa. The music was great, the food even better. It's an interesting place, with a "Wall of Fame" when you walk in the door - celebrities of note that had eaten there were Robert Palmer, Meg Ryan, Geraldo Rivera, and other people I can't remember. If you can imagine this place, it's a long, rectangle of a building, all wood, with about 30,000+ business cards stapled into the ceiling. I don't know why - it just was. You don't question things in Cajun country. Though the place was dingy and dirty, I have to say it was some of the best food I've ever eaten. It just goes to show, you can't judge a kitchen by the shack it resides in.
We were going to stay at my grandfather's for the night, but Baret really thought we could beat the traffic and get home. It was the 4th quarter of the game and about 10:30 pm; I wasn't so hopeful. Needless to say, as we came towards LSU, all roads going to my apartment were already blocked off and being redirected. Unwilling to stay in the clusterfuck of post-game traffic, we went to the casino downtown. Hey, free drinks. We played slots for 5 minutes (long enough to have a drink brought to us), then sat out on the deck and watched the traffic on the bridge until it dwindled. We didn't get home 'til 12:30 am, and there was no where to park. Thank goddess for Miatas...we just moved my car up on the sidewalk and parked Baret's behind me. -sigh- Two more Saturdays until the blessing of an away game is upon us.
With that, I'll leave you with another landmark of note Mom and I found on our travels: these wise words from a true-blue Southern Baptist church.
To note, "Little Prairie" Baptist Church is not located on a prairie - unless you call the corner of two major highways a "prairie". Also, I've found that kneeling on knocking knees really only makes you fall down.