happy fat tuesday (again...)

yea, you read correctly...again...

but besides my obviously needing to purchase a calendar, i think it's time to discuss the true meaning of fat tuesday.  sure we all know about lent and catholicism and blah blah blah, but i said the true meaning; gettin' rowdy. 

mardi gras is french for fat tuesday, so it's no wonder that today is the culmination of all things sinful, but i didn't expect to wake up this morning, still in a heady haze from my dreams of sugarplums and spliffs, to find king cake baby engaging in this...



somebody's going to have a moral hangover, but who am i to judge?

 

these chicas fled my house like hippies from a cop.  (please see below)

after i interrupted this little baby menage (um, i should probably patent this term right away), i congratulated k.c.b. for using a trojan, handed him a hangover gatorade, used the word "stoked" in a sentence, and then we both made fun of his jersey style grenade conquest--all before i left for work! ugh, i am such a cool mom.  

    Grenade 

• A bigger, ugly chick
• More often than not, the grenade jumper gets laid and the rest end up jacking off.

    part of speech: n
 
    see also: landmine
 
    antonym: dime

so im getting home from work on my lunch break and see a bakery package by the front door.  fuck yea. did uncle al send us cringle again?!  in typical fat kid fashion, i immediately threw my purse to the side and grasped the box, frantically ripping away the packing tape.

oohhh noo, this was no ordinary cardboard box of sweets filling my disorderly porch with its love and calories.  It was...my  grandchildren, birthed from the debaucherous night of fat tuesday and left for me, the father's mother, to take in. 



8 fertilized cupcakes


lately i've been trying to look at the positive side of things, so rather than have a panic attack over being suddenly old and overburdened, i will just have to eat their glorious purple, gold and green diapers and toss these bitties in with the highlighters in my top desk drawer.  and who knows, if i ever get bored at work (um, which is always), maybe i'll pitch this shit to vh1: a clan of king cake babies on their way to stardom through bad reality tv,  j.ram and (king) cake plus eight?! ehhh, not quite as catchy as the jon and kate original, but it's got total potential (if i do say so myself, aahem). 

so there you have it, the true meaning of mardi gras: (hand) grenades, corruption, sex, nudity, child exploitation and gluttony, oh my!  sounds like a fucking fabulous fat tuesday if you ask me. cheers.

(and move over brandy and ray j! y'all will no longer be the most pathetic, std spreading siblings on a staged vh1 show! woooooo!!)