Happy Mardi Gras, Carnival, Lift-Your-Shirt-For-Beads Day!

On the drive into work this morning, my neck ensconced in beads, I tried to remember if I had ever flashed anyone for beads. If I did, it certainly wasn’t out of necessity. I have boxes of beads. I started collecting them as a little kid, when I used to go to the annual church pancake supper and there would be piles of beads on the tables. The beads I am currently wearing were legally purchased at The Factory Card Outlet before a keg party I threw this summer. They are pink and sparkly.

Still, I have a vague and fuzzy memory of negotiating for a set of beads. The problem with having so much fun when you’re drunk is that a lot of your best memories end up in fuzzy little pieces.

I remember the setting- the garden apartments at my college- and I remember the argument. I do not remember the guy. It was the ordinary situation: I coveted the Mardi Gras beads he wore, and he required the traditional fee.

I thought about it and said, “Alright, but I’m pulling my shirt down, not up, and you only get to see one.”

I think after that, the guy must have decided that any girl who set those sorts of terms on flashing just wasn’t worth it. But I’m pretty sure I got the beads.

Still, this is another fine example of why I’m single.

In other news, Grey’s Anatomy continues to be the center of the universe. I considered writing ‘the center of my television universe’ here instead, but really: who would I be kidding? If you are not interested in Grey’s Anatomy, please skip the next five paragraphs.

Because of a delayed flight back from Minnesota this weekend (and almost five, lovely hours stuck in an airport in Atlanta), I saw this week’s episode fifteen whole hours late. There was a plus to this delay, however. I viewed the episode all alone, in an empty house, and was able to make as much noise (and sob as loudly) as I wanted.

The men in my life who have admitted to watching this show- namely, my cousin and Cuba- both thought nothing important happened in this episode. My cousin keeps saying, “Nothing blew up”, which a shrug. The women in my life were reeling. I spent the beginning of the episode tense and worried for George. Then sad for George. Then sobbing for George and, a bit, for Meredith, who you have to pity simply because she has somehow ended up so screwed up.

Now that I’ve had some emotional distance, I understand and accept everything that went down, especially in regards to George, being that I see George as a strange, fictional male version of myself.

In the last episode, Izzie told George that Meredith would hear him if he made her. Then this episode, Cristina told George that if he wanted bad things to stop happening to him, he had to make them stop happening. The whole horribly painful Meredith incident was about teaching George to be a do-er (which was mentioned in the bombing episodes). Yeah, Karma!

Yes, Grey’s Anatomy, continues to teach us all about our lives and the world. Seriously, it is Yoda/Buddha/The Oracle at Delphi/Every decent self-help book I ever read all rolled into one.

Back to my original topic (we interrupt this Grey’s Anatomy musing to bring you a brief reappearance of the Real World), today is Mardi Gras. I don’t get to celebrate because I have to go study Camus’ The Plague instead, but that doesn’t change the fact that tomorrow is the start of Lent. I’m supposed to give something up.

I’m not particularly religious, but I’ve enjoyed the trappings of religion throughout my life. Church. Youth Group. Hymns. Candles. Falling Asleep During Sermons. Giving Things Up for Lent.

In the past I’ve given up chocolate but not candy and candy but not chocolate. I’ve given up soda and, one less than successful college Lent, beer. I’m thinking about trying for chocolate again this year, but I might just go psychotic without the wonder drug. Seriously.

So, maybe now that I’ve left church behind, I’d better just leave Lent behind, too. Or I might end up beating children, puppies and co-workers in the streets.

And, seriously: could I really watch Grey’s Anatomy without the healing powers of chocolate?