AAAiiiiieeeeeeee! I just got in from a charitable event in a neighboring town. It was a post-Mardi Gras Mardi Gras party, it seemed, although they weren't requiring anyone to do anything for beads. They just handed them out. Kinda takes all the fun outta of Mardi Gras when there ain't no tit-for-tat in exchange for those valuable strings of beads, ya know?
Anyway, the event featured some Zydeco band whose name has skipped my mind. It probably would not have done so had the band not skipped out the back door behind a giggling group of garishly-garbed gals just after I arrived. I suppose that whatever panky in which they were involved was already way too far over on the hanky side for them to abandon their activity anytime soon. Mostly, therefore, the party was without music.
The proffered repast was something called Cajun Boil. Now, you have to understand that I am a very squeamish eater ... having passed on both gumbo and jambalaya in past opportunities, suspicious of what kind of trash they throw into the pot. I had no sooner gotten myself seated than someone plopped a mash of shrimp, sausage, new potatoes, corn on the cob, and big red crawdads, or as they called 'em, crayfish, right down in front of me. No weapons -- eat with your hands.
Despite my nature, I sampled those crayfishies, not just once, but twice. I didn't suck their brains outta their heads like some I saw, but ate the entire meaty tail. It really wasn't all that bad, I guess. It didn't taste much like chicken, but, then, I don't like chicken. I choked it down without gagging, which for me is really saying something. I actually felt quite proud of myself.
Eating has always been what gives me the heebie-jeebies while watching Fear Factor. I just cannot imagine putting some of the stuff in my mouth that they eat on that show. However, I now suspect that I could choke down a half dozen crawdads for $50,000.00. Of course, on Fear Factor, the crawdads would probably still be alive and you'd feel their legs wiggling as they slid down your throat. Excuse me ... I need to see a man called Ralph.
Sorry ... thanks for waiting. So, my navel is still not speaking with me. I "accidentally" knocked a tin of Band-aid®s off a shelf in the bathroom which just happened to fall onto that plastic sword swizzle stick stuck through my navel and it snapped in half and fell to the floor. My toes have begun a pool to bet on how many days it takes for the holes to close up. I'm in for 5 days. I don't actually have a clue, but I made an educated guess. Now the scar will likely take years to fade away. End of report.
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Posted by Tiger at February 18, 2005 10:34 PM | TrackBackCajun boil? Man, I think the first rule of food is: give it a name that sounds delicious. Or at least edible. Like something you'd want to put in your mouth. Boil sounds pretty gross to me.
Posted by: Jay at February 18, 2005 11:27 PMI may be speaking out of turn here but I am mildly surprised to here you attending a Mardi Gras. Then again maybe Mardi Gras there is different to Sydney's.
Here the Mardi Gras is a street parade run by those who embrace an alternate sexual lifestyle. The only handouts are usually condoms so I am at a loss to work out what the beads have to do with anything...
Posted by: Oz Guru at February 19, 2005 12:41 AMHi, Thanks for stopping by at my blog. Don't be a stranger, come back again. They thought of live crawdads exploring my stomach gives me goose bumps.
Posted by: Raven at February 19, 2005 01:53 AM