You can't just go out for A drink on Fat Tuesday

Especially when you go to a New Orleans-themed restaurant that only goes all out once a year. It was a good Fat Tuesday from the get go. Almost immediately after walking into previously mentioned restaurant, a waitress came up and informed me that somebody had offered to buy my friend and me a drink. Score! It turned out to be an old friend from college and not some dreamy, hunky stranger who had fallen in love with me at first sight, but old friends are probably just as good as hot mystery men, if not better (unless the stranger owns an island). I knew at that point that the idea of going out for a drink had become just that, an idea.

We sat at a booth and were enjoying some calamari and the jazz band when the owner of the restaurant came up to us and told us that he'd give us free shots if we danced on the bar. Since, I'm usually willing to dance on bars for free (but only in classy situations - wouldn't want to be one of those girls), there was no decision to be made. We hopped up and danced while the bartender poured Southern Comfort down our throats and partly up our noses. That's when I noticed the establishment's employees were by far the most drunk people in the place. Our waiter proved this theory when the time came to pay our bill. We were only charged for two drinks and our calamari, but didn't think much of it since we had been given free booze all night. We gave the guy cash and close to a 100% tip. Ten minutes later he came back (with shots we didn't order) and asked us if we had paid yet. We reminded him that we had, in fact, just done so. He said he couldn't remember, but would trust us on it. Right after, the owner started dancing around on a booth swinging beads around and rubbing them all over his body. We decided then that it was time to go for fear of what kind of a mad house the place was about to turn into. This led us to dancing. There are quite a few places in Tulsa that play really hot tracks on every Tuesday night (not just the fat one), if you're willing to go out for a drink.

And, my boobs remained covered all night long.

I also spoke to "me mate" back in England yesterday. When I asked him if he was going to go out for Mardi Gras, he said, "you mean pancake day?" Wha....? Apparently in the United Kingdom, they party the day before Lent starts by eating pancakes. Now, you tell me which holiday is better:

Pancake Day


vs.

Mardi Gras


I've also decided to give up cookies for Lent, so don't offer me any. Depending on my mood, I might take them, crumble them up, and throw them in your face for tempting me so.