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Weenend Review/ I Hate Mondays Monday

OK so, I know it’s not Monday, but yesterday was somewhat of a blur and by the time I was able to settle down and catch up it was after 12am already, so I decided to get some sleep and wait until this evening start this series. By series I mean that this blog title will be used and written on every Monday until…

This first one will be mostly a review of my weekend since I’m still unemployed, waiting for nursing school to begin and coasting to the end of my summer vacation.

This past weekend actually began on Wednesday when MY MAN (the definition of which I promise to be explained in my next blog) decided to begin his birthday celebration. His birthday is not until August 3rd, but with all of the let downs and discouraging events that have been surrounding his life for the past few months, I decided to let him start as early as he wanted.

So here’s a recep of the events:

Day One: Wednesday: This day was not at all planned, and I cannot even remember how it started. But I do know that we went to the New Orleans Original Daiquiri Shop and bought two large daiquiris for $5.50, which is the sale every Monday and Wednesday. For some reason I let him convince me to buy to MFs (which stand for my used to be favorite curse word–I try not to curse anymore). We parked my car on the river and rode the ferry over the “great and mighty Mississippi” (lol, that was so lame). The ferry open its gate to the shore of the original sin city: downtown New Orleans. We walked with no destination in mind and ended up at a cigar shopped that sold almost-cuban cigars (I will get the name of this shop from MY MAN later.) Then we walked and talked and sipped and laughed about nothing that would be understood by someone who resided outside of our world. Then when our feets began to slow and tire and lag and swagger, MY MAN decided I was too wet to go on and turned steered out direction back towards the ferry, to which we tried to run because he was sure we were bout to get left by the last boat of the night. Back on the ferry to took pictures of myself with my camera phone to prove to MY MAN and myself that I was dry enough to drive. After he took the keys from me the rest of the night became a memory that can only be unlocked by the stories I’m sure he will drunkedly tell at our wedding reception (no, we are not engaged this is only hopeful speculation).

Oh, now I remember! This night began after Bible study!

Day 2: Thursday: Half of this day was spent in bed recovering from Wednesday. But I did get to see MY MAN. We eat Rally’s cheeseburgers and drove up town to find something he needed to help him get a job. I bought him is B-Day present, something which cannot be revealed on this blog, and I bought him home. Not too much happened after that because my nappy roots needed to be relaxed and that takes at least three hours of burning discomfort to complete.

Day 3: Friday: Burbon Street, New Orleans!!!!! Actaully it wasn’t all that. This place is better experienced tipsy, drunk, high, or as a naive teenager, otherwise it’s just walking and site seeing. Of course I was the safety driver, so I was none of those (and I most likely wouldn’t be otherwise). The craziest thing that happened was that we were put out of a club because MY MAN’s counsin’s attire didn’t fit the dress code. They were mad and turned it into a Black on Black hate thing because the white bouncer let us in, but the black bouncer was the one who put us out. Mmmmmm. I can remember MY MAN having only one beer and me a Red Bull because I was TIRED and that Red Bull didn’t even really work…….

Day 4: Saturday: Satchmo Fest, French Quater, New Orleans: MY MAN was a trumpet player for his high school band, and he goes back to his alma mata from time to time to work with the kids, so his going to this celebration of a local muscial genius was somewhat a requirement of life. When got there right smack in the heat of the day, so my edges was snatchin; back and my hair was sticking to my neck, so half my time out there was spent cringing to the fact that my perm was being sweated out only after two days of silky flowiness.

The other half was spent watching MY MAN and his cousin puff on one of those almost-Cuban cigars from the place we visited Wednesday night. This was a B-Day present from yours truly, so I enjoyed watching him enjoy the tobacco high. After wandering around the French Quarter for about an hour and a half, we decided it was too hot to actually make to the fest and decided that it could not have been poppin’ off nothing good since so many tourist were walking around and experiences all the other attractions.

So, we left and drove around the city, bar and house hopping, collecting free drinks and beer in the name of MY MAN’s birthday celebration. This allowed me to meet many of this family members that I had not met yet, including a grandfather and obviously young girlfriend, some boisterious cousins (didn’t that sound better than the word that starts with g, end with o and contains 6 letters), and also some old freinds.

That night we ate at Olive Garden: his counsin’s first time there, MY MAN’s second.

Day Five: Church: Greater Agatha Christian Church and McDonald’s for lunch

Day Six: Monday: (his actual birthday) Daiquiri shop, pool, and Boomtown casino: I showed up at his house and surprised him with a truck full of beer, a crossword puzzle book and a miniature cake with the number 27 on it. He was so surprised and happy. I was the only one to get him anything for his special day. My presents were the first he had recieved in years. He told me I was the first girlfriend he ever celebrated his birthday with (which part of me find hard to believe).

Although I came out of this broke and in need of money for books to start school with next week, he deserved every moment and penny of it. So, opinions and feedback. Do you think I am a supportive and wonderful girlfriend, or do you think I’m blindly in love and need to regain sight before I crash?

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