My Whorish New Orleans Weekend
Halloween is traditionally celebrated in New Orleans the first weekend before the actual holiday. That is if you are gay. The circuit party on Saturday brings in the tired looking and washed up contingent from Atlanta and other nearby southern meccas. Because of the shitty economy, the city looked less packed than in years past.
Lushes have increasingly become a major turn off for me. It could be because I have adopted a Madonna Ritchie complex. Surely, you have read how compulsive Madonna's daily exercise regimen has become? Well, that's been me for the past year. Since I deem alcohol as a detriment to my tennis game, I have made it a practice to not drink and to judge all others who stay inebriated.
Alcohol is a wasteful human endeavor. You get a temporary buzz, but you ultimately began to miss work, the gym, and that size 30 pair of jeans. I think just about every friend of mine is pretty plump nowadays. I could literally stick an apple in their mouth and roast them as piggies.
And this has absolutely nothing to do with me consistently being told I was too skinny with that concerned look. When you are a tennis SUPER STAR, you play tennis five times a week. You don't spend your whole week sitting on your ass eating potato chips or being propped up on that bar stool with a sugary Hurricane daiquiri.
I will confess that I did let down my hair and drank lots on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was back to being Brettcajun from the good 'ole days. I freely gave kisses to many who were not my boyfriend. I may have even played show-and-tell right there in the bar at 5pm in the afternoon. It was back to being the Tazmanian Devil MESS I used to be. Ahh... good times.
Now if you don't mind, I have one last tennis tournament to prepare for in 2008. The HouTex Tournament is next weekend. All my Texas rivals will be there waiting to knock me off my perch. To hell with my damned drinking buddies, I have a tennis tournament to win!