I was not much of a party girl in college. Though I could certainly put away bottles of Budweiser and added a little hair to my chest with the occasional shot of Jack Daniels or Southern Comfort and lime, I was not one for attending massive house parties or dancing on bars. However, for three consecutive years, I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and acted a fool. In honor of today being Mardi Gras, here is what I learned in the days I spent sucking down Hurricanes, hoofing it down Bourbon Street in high heels, eating alligator meat, and, yes, flashing my boobs for beads. Keep reading »
