Looks like Karen and I had a synchronous Sunday.
Saturday is but a pre-cold blur of St. Patty’s Day floats that had nothing to do with their titles, Casa Celcus, lugging a cabbage or two back home and dancing to the Drop Kick Murphys at the Three-Legged Dog. There was some Fahy’s in there, too. Some, she said.
I wanna go home.
Ohhh, Lordy.
I hope you’re feeling better.
Sounds like you shoulda just sat on a parade chair and swigged some Formula 44 instead of celcus’ brews…
Oh, there was none of Celcus’s brew for me. I was giddy simply eating baby carrots that flew off floats.
Dear Miss Vatul,
“They” are trying to run us out of New Orleans by spreading a new strain of “I wish I was dead Flu”
Don’t let it chase you away.