Happy Mardi Gras!!!!!! It’s FAT Tuesday!!!! The best day of the year!!!

Unfortunately, creepers celebrate too.

Have you ever dealt with a creeper? Vince Vaughn refers to these people as “stage five clingers” when talking to Owen Wilson.

So was the case for me and my friend Jessica at the Endymion ball this past weekend.

Endymion is the best Mardi Gras parade and has the most elaborate floats and I had the great fortune of being invited by Jessica and her family to the BALL, Y’ALL!!

I had to wear a fancy dress (a bridesmaids dress I wore for a friend’s wedding three years ago…Score!) and all the guys had to wear tuxes!!! I’ve never seen so many tuxes in one room.

So, we’re all standing there drinking and eating and the float marches right through the party and we all get a front row seat.

I’m not kidding about the floats being GORGEOUS.

See, look at this one, a homage to Edgar Allen Poe


Or this…


Oh, and I was a peacock!!!

nice to meet ya!

Yes, well, everything was GREAT and we were having the BEST TIME dancing to Pat Benatar and Train (Hey Soul Sister) when a guy with shoulder length hair and pimples asked me to dance.

“Sure!” I said. I never turn down a dance.

BAD MOVE on my part.

He was a good dancer and all, but…a stage five clinger. A young one.

“What school did you go to?” I asked, when he said he was also from New Orleans. He said a big, all-boys Catholic school.

“Yea? What year did you graduate?”

“2009,” he said. (Um, I graduated college in 2005).

“WHAT!!” I said loudly. “How old are you, 19?”


Damn. baby. After the dance, I went back to our table and sipped champagne. When I turned around again, Mr. Long hair was back.

“Wanna dance again?” he asked, to the very next song.

“No, I’m OK for now. Thanks though,” I said.

Did he leave after that? No, no he did not. Social clues be dammed!!!! He continued to follow us around the dance floor for the next set, even as Jessica and I danced exclusively together and inched away from him.

I told him that Jessica had a boyfriend, but he still snuck in when he could behind her (and me) to feel our butts and stomachs through our dresses while we danced.

UGH. Creeper HAND alert.

It got so bad that Jessica had to pretend she was going to throw up so we could go to the bathroom and get away from him. She put her hand over her mouth and was like…””

(Genius idea…I would never have thought that, since I don’t throw up.)

So, even after WE PRETENDED TO PUKE, the dude STILL found us a half hour later on the other side of the dance floor.

It was sad and annoying, and he wouldn’t let up, and at the end of the night, I had to give him a fake phone number.

“How about I’ll just see you around town when I see you?” I first proposed when he asked for my digits.
“Maybe I’ll see you at Jazz Fest or something,” I said.

“NO!” he said, shoving his phone in my face. “This is fate. I need your number now.”

It wasn’t fate, but it was late and I was a bit buzzed and I was losing patience with the long haired pimply guy.

So I just started typing numbers until I reached seven digits. (perhaps it was 867-5309…jenny jenny..hehe)

So, OK, please fellas, take a hint when you’re trying to hit on someone. If you ask someone for their number and they say NO, move on. If they move away from you on the dance floor, take the hint.

Don’t make them give you a fake number.

Nothing ruins a party/dance floor like a creeper.

Makes girls want to PUKE. haha

– Jenny

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