Mid-Festival Posting

I'm not even going to apologize for my lack of blogging. It would take away from what I want to absolutely bitch about right now and that is this;

This weekend is French Quarter Festival, my number one favorite festival in the city. It's great fun, great food, great music and if you can handle the parrot head types (sorry Julie) with their beer bellies and sagging breasts then you're doing alright. I went on Friday with Jeremy and his houseguest and Paulie. Today I went on a date with a boy named Josh. Now this is an outdoor festival. I like to take a blanket, stretch out, listen to music, eat food, have a good time. We left because I had to come home and feed my dogs but we stopped at the pub to get a drink. I was carrying a plate of food as well, intending to share it with Paul when I got to the bar. No fewer than seven people asked me "are you moving in, what's with the blanket?" Now how difficult is this? Everyone in the fricking quarter knows that this festival, this OUTDOOR festival is happening. Anyone who has ever been to the festival (which is every single person that asked me this stupid question) knows that people often sit on blankets outside and listen to the music. I was carrying a plate of food for gods sake, where did they think I had been? Do I seem like the kind of person who's home life is so transient that I might easily be seen wandering around the French Quarter at 5 on a Saturday afternoon clutching my lone possession, a leaf covered blanket and a plate of brisket with horseradish sauce? I ask you, seriously.