Fecal Matters!

This shit is serious.
It is Fat Tuesday, which means it is Tuesday and you are fat.
But seriously, I think we should take a moment, on this most solemn of days, to reflect on what it means to get completely leathered and either a) bare your mammaries for strands of tawdry plastic baubles, or b) try, in your state of retarded inebriation, to steady your video camera as you record said exposed mammaries for (self) pleasurable viewing at a later time.
That was yesterday.
Today is Ash Wednesday, and I have no idea what that means to people of the Catholic description, except that you can't do anything fun any more for a long while. Yes. And something to do with ashes.
It actually all just came flooding back to me in a moment of omniscient clarity. On Fat Tuesday, Jesus, turns water into wine (things get a little crazy, women are showing their ankles, a holy tradition begins), on Ash Wednesday, Jesus is cremated (resurrect that, you sum-bitch), skip (insert adjective) Thursday, on Good Friday, Jesus makes a miraculous comeback with the single 'Love Your Neighbor, All Night Long', Saturday, Shomer Shabbas, and finally on Sunday, Jesus goes to IHOP for breakfast, waits 2 hours for substandard pancakes, all the while cursing the church going crowd for flooding the 24 hour breakfast market. And that, my friends, is the story of the Easter related holidays, and the foundation on which the whole of New Orleans' economy is based.
I am the queen of run on sentences.
As much as I'd love to bitch today, and believe me, I always can (Complainator), I am instead going to write about the weather conditions in Austin, Texas today.
It is lovely.
Tiffany, James and I went to the Barton Springs spillway in, get this, flip flops and shorts, tanned for a minute, had iced vanilla lattes of the non fat variety, and now I'm here, pecking out this verbal virtuosity, for you to enjoy, you being James, Lindsay, Tiffany, or any of my friends whom I force to read my blog and tell me how funny it is.
Yesterday, Tiffers and I went to a fire station, tried on their fire proofing awesome costumes, climbed the pole, ate chocolate chip cookies with cream of the ice and whipped denominations, and watched Face Off in extremely comfortable recliners until we could no longer bear to witness the nauseating spectacle of over aged, over actor showmanship. The we left to go get pissed. Yay!
Tonight I'm going to work, and I am convincing myself that I am uber excited about this by writing right now about how I am uber excited to be going to work.
Holla!