New Year. New Me. New Orleans

New Orleans for New Years. An ambitious idea, sure. But alongside a group of Miami’s most ratchet, we executed a pretty epic week. We stayed in the Big Easy for five gloriously sloppy days. Between the eating, the drinking and the questionable life choices, I’m pretty sure we’re all broken for at least the month of January.

And while this city will consume you in the best of ways and the worst of ways, it’s always one filled with more than a few revelations. Some of my own:

  • My essence is wholly accepted by the men here. Whatever I’m doing wrong in Miami, I’m certainly doing right in New Orleans.
  • There is nothing more gratifying than slaying a karaoke performance of “Fancy” by Iggy Azalea at Cat’s Meow. All those Thursday night practice sessions at Brother Jimmy’s really prepared us for the big leagues.
  • Guys just dance better here. Wait, scratch that. Guys FROM here just dance better. They just do.
  • It’s perfectly fine to refuse showing your tig ol’ bitties for cheap beads, given your response is, “I’M A LADY. Also, there’s nothing to see here.”
  • Do NOT pick up anything off the floor. Unless your idea of fun is catching every strand of herpes.
  • Gingerly tipping a stripper $5 for an excellent performance is the definition of courtesy. Laughing at one that busts her ass coming off stage is not.
  • You and all of your friends will get lucky in one way or another. There’s just something about the energy in this town that will make it happen for you.
  • Do not make the egregious error of calling the trolley a cable car when speaking to a local. But whatever man, those things are ON CABLES. How was I supposed to know the difference?
  • A frozen Irish coffee from Erin Rose is absolutely life affirming.
  • Flaming Dr. Peppers from The Gold Mine Saloon are trouble when you walk in.
  • Praise everything holy for the existence of the fried chicken at Willie Mae’s in Treme.
  • Free brewery tours with unlimited beer are why this city is so damn great.
  • My stomach can expand drastically for maximum consumption.
  • Booking a hotel down the street from a liquor/mini mart hybrid is always a solid idea. Because mimosas are meant for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
  • Whisper sweet nothings to me residents of New Orleans. I am about that Southern accent life.
  • The city’s flair for the dramatic (feathers on feathers on feathers everywhere you go) is a big bag of YAS.
  • I have no choice but to make “Uptown Funk” my new favorite song after hearing it EVERY DAMN WHERE.

But the most important thing I gathered from kicking of the New Year in New Orleans is that 2015 should most definitely be the year of TREAT. YO. SELF. To all the foods. To all the drinks. To all the bad behavior that you’ll find a way to excuse. Live every week like it’s Mardi Gras. Because, why not?

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