Cajun-isms

The forty days before Easter are a hugely significant and special time here in Houston. It is a time of reflection, self-sacrifice and spirituality. 

It's called Crawfish Season. 

And if you don't know what a crawfish is...

 

And they come by the million 

 

When you live in the Bayou City, there seems to always be an excuse to eat crawfish and celebrate the cajun culture. And when you grew up in land-locked Oklahoma, you have no friggin idea the significance of this bug-eyed creature. 


Naturally, I was intrigued. 


I got my first crawfish opportunity when my wasted law student neighbors brought a steaming plate of red critters to my door step.

At 11pm.

During spring break.

As an apology for partying like rock stars all week and keeping me up at night. 

"It's spring break! We're in law school! Whooo!"


Ask me if I'm impressed.


Clearly, I don't have a spring break.

Anyway....Unfortunately, I had already brushed my teeth but because of my crawfish interest, I took some in a Ziploc baggie to eat later and sent my neighbors on their merry way. 

"Thanks for the crawfish!" I felt like SUCH a Houstonian, and I was damn pleased with myself.

Turns out, (according to boyfriend) crawfish doesn't really work that way. You eat 'em pretty much 10 minutes after they've died and 'leftovers' don't apply. Feeling rejected, I threw my crawbabies into the trash.


Luckily, a couple weeks later, my crawfish dream became a reality. After long days at the pool...sometimes I get hungry!

**Feet might be larger than they appear

So me, boyfriend and friends went to git us sum crawfish!

Of course, they are little crawfish experts. But I was PUMPED about this new experience and desperate eager to feel like a real Houstonian and finally be part of crawfish culture.

So crawfish we ate. 

And ate. 


And ate. 

And ate. 

I got to tell you, taste-wise, I was pretty under-whelmed. But for me, this was a status symbol. Just another step in assimilating into the culture of my new city. 


Then my curiosity expanded a little...So with crawfish meat stuffed in both of my cheeks, I start asking questions.


"So, what are crawfish? Like where do they come from?


"Like where do they live?"


"Yeah, in the ocean or what?"

"Um...the bayou? They live in the mud. Ever heard of mud bugs?"

"BLECHHHHHHHHHHHHAPDHUCK PARFFFFFFFF. WHAT."


"Yeah, they're actually pretty dirty little things."


"Oh. my. hell."


And this point, I'm over it. I see a plate full of red shiny steming crawfish in front of me and all I can think about are 'mud bugs' which to me, might as well be 'cockroaches.'

I think I'm going to be sick.


All further crawfish exploration has come to a complete halt. 


Do you know what doesn't live in the mud, is super delicious and totally predictable?

Sprinkles cupcakes. 


I arrest my case.

Just Call Me Lindsay

And because Lindsay Lohan needed more reasons for America to hate her...

She has requested to drop the last name and from this day forward, only be referred to as 'Lindsay.'

First of all, how dare you. 

Who does she think she is, PRINCE?

Secondly, the whole, using one name thing really doesn't work if you have one of the most popular names in America. I'm just saying, I'm not sure there's a lot of Gaga Smiths or Madonna Joneses out there. For example --

Did you hear about Jessica? 

Jessica who? 

Did you hear about Ashley?

Ashley who? 

The only instance where this works is for Britney. Because we all know there's only one Britney who really matters.

 

And there will never be another Britney. She's all we need and more than we can handle.

So just stop, Lindsay Lohan. Stop. 

Can we please bring back the red headed Lindsay Lohan from Mean Girls? 

The Lindsay Lohan who wasn't a pretend lesbian, didn't steal or drink and drive, and didn't have a coke problem?

 

I had no idea I was this invested in LL until her untimely name change. 

I'm more pissed about this then her half a dozen arrests. 


Happy Friday!




 

Glamazon

Anyone still here? 

Of course you are. 

While I've been away, I've been living a very, VERY glamorous life. This will be best depicted in pictures. 

1. Decorated my house. See those buns on the stove? Yeah. Turns out, plastic wrapping and hot stove tops do not like each other. Domestic perfection. Also, that teal pot was a bargain purchase and might be my most favorite thing I own lately.

2.  Went skiing. That's not me. I think I was taking this from on my ass. I spent a healthy amount of time on my ass.

3. Came back to where life makes sense.

4. Life, making sense. Aren't boyfriend's hands the greatest? We have been watching a lot of Investigation Discovery lately...so much so that sometimes I accuse him of plotting my murder. BUT WHAT IF YOU TRY TO KILL ME -- MY PARENTS WOULD BE SO SAD. In an interesting turn of events, last night, the wife murdered the husband and boyfriend is all paranoid, WHAT IF YOU TRY TO KILL ME. I had no idea how to answer that question.

5. Went to a reggae concert. Got my judgement on.This girl in the white hat was just about more than I could handle.

6. Received pictures of THIS. And cried for my poor mommy and her sad little bunion. 

7. Moved the teal pot. And bought a chicken to be its roomie. 

 8. Drove through Oklahoma's finest Arbuckle Mountains. Wrote a song about the mountains. Sang it to boyfriend and my whole family. 

 9. Went home. This dog and those eyes. Melt.