Mardi Gras!!

Mardi Gras!

(this picture was taken by yours truly in the men's restroom of a bar this weekend)

This past weekend was a blast. I ventured down to the deep South and experienced some serious Southern culture by attending a little celebration known to many as Mardi Gras.

Don't ask me how Federline's party was or whether I will be on the latest edition of Guys Gone Wild, because I didn't go to New Orleans. Nope, I spent Mardi Gras weekend in lovely Mobile, Alabama.

Why did I spend Mardi Gras Mardi Gras in Mobile and not New Orleans? Well, put simply, it wasn't my idea. My friend Mike is clerking for a judge down in Mobile and he invited a bunch of us down to join the fesitivities. Man, am I glad he did.

Apparently Mobile, like New Orleans, was founded by the French. Legend has it that Mobile was the original destination for Mardi Gras in the U.S., but over the years New Orleans gradually stole Mobile's Mardi Gras thunder, probably due to the fact that New Orleans is a better city than Mobile in....well....every single way.

Expecting a weaker-than-normal Mardi Gras in New Orleans after the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina last fall, the city of Mobile put in a little extra effort this year to try to steal some of their thunder back. I can comfortably say that they failed miserably, but I had a great time nonetheless.

I took a half day on Friday and Dave & I drove down to Mobile (about a 4 1/2 - 5 hour drive). We stopped in Mobile and picked up Mike, switched cars, and headed down to

Biloxi, Mississippi

to participate in some gambling and drunken debauchery. After we picked up Seth and Alan we headed to the hotel/casino.

We stayed at the Imperial Palace Casino in Biloxi. There are 2-3 large casino hotels still functioning in Biloxi, the Imperial Palace being one of them.

As most of you know, Biloxi was hit by Katrina but not as badly as New Orleans. Damage from the hurricane could still be seen in the surrounding area. Many houses were left in shambles. I did not get a chance to take many pictures but here is one house that got hit (right). This is far from the worst one that we saw.

We were told that the lobby of the Imperial Palace had as much as six feet of water flowing through it during the hurricane. I did not really notice, I just noticed that the place was nowhere near as nice as Vegas, but that's what I was expecting anyway.

New Orleans is the poor man's Vegas, and Biloxi is the poor man's New Orleans. Thus, its a few significant degrees away from the quality of Vegas, but it still presents the capabilities to have a good time.

The felt on the tables was green, the drinks at the tables were free, and that's all that really matters. Dave, Seth, and Mike hit the poker tables while Alan and I hit the blackjack tables.

After the tables we headed out to the nightclub located conveniently in the casino. The place was pretty big, it had two or three levels of seats/booths and had a decent crowd. There was a dancefloor and a stage. The stage was empty but for three women who were dancing semi-nude behind some hanging sheets, much like Shadow Bar in Ceasar's Palace in Vegas.

At one point I decided that I wanted to get kicked out of the bar (a tactic I picked up from one Eric Wagner), so I walked across the bar, grabbed some glowsticks off the table (they were used as table decorations in this place), ran back to our table, jumped up on the chairs, and started twirling the glowsticks around like some kind of maniac.

First off, I don't like glowstick-twirling-people. In fact, I pretty much dislike everything about them, but there I was nonetheless, glowsticks in hand. I thought for sure I would be kicked out for participating in such complete douchebaggery.

Unfortunately, nothing was happening. I just kept twirling away like a fruitcake, yelling something along the lines of "hell yeah, mother-f---er!!" But still there was no response. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Mike talking to a bouncer near the wall while pointing his hand at me. The bouncer nodded and bee-lined straight for me. At that point my mood quickly changed as I flashed back to the three huge bouncers who beat the living sh-- out of some guy (which really happened) right before we walked into the bar and I decided I had better get down on my own volition. I did and shortly thereafter we left the bar.

I found out later that Mike thought that since I wanted to get kicked out of the bar, he figured he would expedite the process by telling the bouncer to kick me out.

The next morning, being the complete degenerates that we are, Seth, Dave, and I could not even wait for Mike to check out of the hotel before we began making absurd bets on any and everything. That include a three way round robin paper, rock, scissors tournament. Dave's bitch ass took home the title.

Mobile, AL

Saturday we headed back to Mike's apartment in Mobile, where we quickly played 3 back to back to back hold em tournaments. Dave's bitch ass won those too.

After the gambling, we proceeded directly to drinking.

and then we headed out to Dolphin Street, the nightlife area of downtown Mobile.

We're not going to get into specifics of this evening, but here are a few pics and highlights:

-Mike removing his pants at the bar (not pictured)

-Mike not requesting, but demanding that we pour beer all over his face

-Anonymous group member's conversation with a woman on her bachelorette party:

guy: "Too bad you're getting married, I'd really like to f--- you."

girl's friend who overheard the comment: "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

guy: "Shut up or I'll f--- you too"

- and meeting Mike's Pakistani love kitten, Zahid

There is something worth telling about what transpired after we went to the bars. I don't know how many of you have seen the MTV True Life: I'm a Competitive Eater, but for those of you who haven't, you need to - it's the best True Life since Jersey Shore.

I myself watched MTV True Life: I'm a Competitive Eater a few days before I went down to Mobile. As such, I became infatuated with the idea of participating in my own competitive eating contest. I discussed it ad nauseum the entire weekend, to the point where I think I drove everyone crazy.

I was having trouble finding an opponent for the much anticipated competitive eating competition, but I knew that I could convince Mike to participate. For those who don't know, Mike was crowned the Iron Chef (well, it actually was considered a draw) in a contest held in my apartment last year. One night at about 5 in the morning we decided to have a makeshift Iron Chef competition. Iron Chef is an Asian program where two chefs are given a certain ingredient and have a set amount of time to come up with the best meal using that ingredient, as determined by a panel of judges. We had two competitors who had to cook the best meal they could with the limited food left in my kitchen (I believe I was moving out the next day and had little to no food). The secret ingredient that both chefs needed to utilize was Ritz crackers. I don't know how he did it, but Mike cooked up some sort of tuna noodle casserole sprinkled with Ritz crackers which possibly could have been one of the best meals I have ever eaten.

Well, not really, but it was still pretty f---ing good.

What better food for a competitive eating contest than Krystal burgers? For those who live up North, Krystal is the equivalent of White Castle (small, cheap burgers). We couldn't think of anything better, so we headed to the closest Krystal. While we there we saw this woman wearing a lovely confederate flag leather jacket. I also could be heard taunting the restaurant staff about my competitive eating capabilities, proclaiming "I'll competitive eat the sh-- out of you!"

Here were the rules:

The first to eat 5 Krystal burgers or who could eat more in 5 minutes would be the winner. Throwing up during the competition resulted in automatic disqualification.

I was positive I would make Mike my competitive eating bitch.

we touched burgers and it was time to eat...

Unfortunately, my competitive eating eyes were bigger than my competitive eating stomach.

I was laughing so hard I could only put down two burgers and Mike put down three.

Mike, once the Iron Chef, was then crowned the Competitive Eating Champion of Mardi Gras 06.

However, he did not have much of a chance to gloat.

and unfortunately, I did not have much time to sulk...

I know what you're thinking: Schrein-bot, clearly you're just not cut out for the world of competitive eating.

That may be true, but if you ask me, I think I just didn't train hard enough. I'm eating three pounds of lettuce when I go home tonight to expand my stomach for next year. And that's just the beginning.

In any event, after the competition we quickly passed out.

The next day we headed downtown to check out the Mardi Gras parades. It was a perfect day and we were all drinking beers (open container acceptable), decked out in our beads, and waiting to see some naked breasts. Unfortunately, that is not what we accomplished.

Instead of breasts, we saw:

people moving crack house furniture

an array of mullets

more than a few individuals with less than a few teeth

a plethora of LEATHER CHAPS

and people making out in public.

Oh, I guess there was a parade with floats and whatnot.

Overall it was good times. Had to cut the trip short because I had to be at work on Monday. Would definitely do it again but will likely end up in New Orleans next year for Mardi Gras.

This Blog will likely be updated Bi-weekly. I have an entry in the wings discussing the lowest form of life on the planet. You might want to check it out.

© 2006

The Lowest Form of Life on the Planet

The Lowest Form of Life on the Planet.

There are many beings existing on God's green earth.

There are creatures as large and magnificent as the blue whale

and as small and intricate as the ameoba.

Some forms of life contribute to the greater existence of other forms of life, such as plants, which convert sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide into energy, oxygen and water through photosynthesis

while others use their talents, be it physical prowess or cunning, to feed off of lower life forms.

There could be an endless debate as to what the greatest form of life is on this planet,

but that is not what this entry is about.

There is no debate, in my opinion, as to what the lowest form of life on the planet is.

What is it you ask?

A disease or a parasitic virus?Persuasive, but not quite.

Is it an annoying insect, like a mosquito or a cockroach?

Nope.

Well, is it something that lives a dull existence, like a natural sponge?

Not exactly.

I have decided that the lowest form of life on the planet is:



A guy in high school.

That may sound a little strange at first, but if you think about it you might agree. If you are a guy, have you recently looked at a picture of yourself when you were in high school? It's humbling, to say the least.

If you are a girl, have you looked at pictures of your friends or boyfriends when they were in high school?

Hey, if you don't have any old pictures, just pick up any old random yearbook and take a peek at the losers that reside within. It doesn't matter what era the yearbook is from, high school aged guys have sucked throughout eternity.

To better illustrate, a picture is worth a thousand words. Take a look at this guy:

No, that's not a picture of Craig in Ironton High School.

At least I don't think it is...

I don't know who this guy is but I'll bet he isn't in college and he looks a little old to be in middle school. He HAS to be in high school.

Now that I have your attention, let me further state why there is no lower life form than a guy in high school:

Let's start off with the obvious. High school aged guys have pimples, braces, and oftentimes overly large heads.

Put simply, they look like fools.

Second, high school aged guys participate in ridiculous activities. For example, I had many friends in high school that either participated in the homo-erotic sport that is wrestling

or attentively watch the glorified soap opera that is professional wrestling.

Most kids in high school haven't developped their own personal style yet, and as a result wear stupid clothes and have bad hair cuts.

Some of them wear clothes their parents buy for them, which oftentimes results in wearing a little too much L.L. Bean for anyone's good,

Yep, wardrobe straight out of a Land's End catalog.

Others attempt to dress themselves, which can result in tragedies such as the wardrobe of Bill Pangas, which for those who don't know him consisted of white leisure suits and other outfits worn exclusively by black men in the 1970s.

To clarify, Bill Pangas is white.

Still others are victims of the latest fashion trends, subjecting themselves to wearing such clothing as was popular in Revere High School in the mid 90s, overalls.

And yet others go for the punk rocker or goth look, and pierce the sh-- out of their face and get stupid tatoos.

I knew a guy who got a tatoo of a Chinese symbol that translated into "to get drunk" and thought it was cool.

At least that's what he thought it said. I'm guessing the tatoo artist probably inked a symbol that translated into something along the lines of "to kiss dudes"

and laughed.

Well, that's what I would have done, anyway.

Back to the subject, another reason that high school aged guys are the lowest form of life on the planet is that most of them are broke.

Not having money contributes to high school aged guys driving around in sh-- cars. Either the guys buy the sh-- cars themselves, or their parents say to them

"I drove around a sh-- car in high school, so you're going to drive around a sh-- car in high school, tough guy"

Being broke and driving a sh-- car makes the high school aged guy want money so he can upgrade his 1984 Mercury Couger hand me down to a sleek 1990 Honda Civic.

To get money, the high school aged guy has to get a job.

The problem is that the only jobs that high school aged guys can get are loser jobs, like being a fast food restaurant employee or a bus boy. Most of these loser jobs require some kind of ridiculous uniform, further emphasizing the jobs sh-ttiness.

Also, the typical high school aged guy can't really grow impressive facial hair.

Unfortunaly, that won't stop him from trying.

The Schrein-bot himself had one hell of a "goatee" in high school. There are quotes around "goatee" because there is no way that the ridiculous thing I had planted on my chin could be considered a goatee by any standard.

Out of sheer pride I refuse to post a picture of this but if you take a look through my own yearbook you will see a picture inserted by one Ben Dorner (part of the yearbook staff) of the Schrein-bot in which his "goatee" inadvertently becomes the focal point of the entire 12" by 16" page.

Of course, you can't really blame me, I was a guy in high school.

Is there anything worse in the entire universe than a high school aged guy's mustache?

I dare you to think of something worse!

It does not exist!

High school aged guys' mustaches are the worst thing in the history of the universe!!

Not surprisingly, most high school aged guys can't get any play.

Their high school aged girl counterparts won't give them the time of day because they are busy dating older guys.

A few of you may be asking yourselves:

Why are high school aged guys worse than high school aged girls?

Well, to put it loosely in the words of David Wooderson, Matthew McConaughey's character in Dazed and Confused:

That's what I love about these High School girls, man. I keep getting older, they stay the same age.

In other words, girls mature a lot faster than guys and a lot of high school aged girls are.....well....hot.

Yeah, that's right. I said it.

Okay, so why are high school aged guys worse than beer-drinking college frat boys or jean-short-wearing elementary or middle school aged guys?

Well, college frat guys actually are much higher on the food chain. Unlike their former high school aged selves, college guys crush a lot of @ss.

High school aged guys, as alluded to previously, don't get much play.

Whenever they are fortunate enough to get a little action, they typically have NO idea what they are doing.

If any guy in high school actually pleases a woman he's probably doing it by accident.

It's all guesswork.

Jean-short-wearing younger guys are given a little bit of a break because they are transitioning from being kids, when any and everything is acceptable.

Given that average high school aged guys have all of these negative attributes, you would think that they would be ashamed of their existence and try their best not to leave the house.

Unfortunately for all of us, that line of thinking could not be more mistaken. In fact, and this might be the exact point which makes them the lowest form of life on the planet,

high school aged guys actually believe that they are cool.

The one piece of unshakable evidence to support this proposition is none other than the infamous letterman's jacket.

Nothing screams "I'm a douchebag" quite like a letterman's jacket, what with its dual color scheme and shiny pins.

As if anyone cares that you can pole-vault.

Anyway, this blog will not let me post anymore pictures (this blog software is imperfect, to say the least) so I am going to cut this entry short, although the more I think about it the more I have to say on this topic. I should mention that this concept was a joint effort between myself and one Chris Raimondo.

I may have to continue this discussion in a follow up entry. Let me know if you have any comments or suggestions.

Until then, next time you see some high school aged guys with their pimples, braces, stupid haircuts on top of their overly large heads, empty pockets, obsession with professional and/or greco-roman wrestling, sh-- cars, pathetic facial hair, uniforms for their loser jobs and/or letterman's jackets, please pick up the closest, heaviest piece of garbage you can find and throw it at them or give them a solid kick in the shins. Tell them to get back inside or hang their heads in shame, for they are the lowest form of life on the planet.

© 2006 The Schrein-Bot