How about two?
Okay, here goes.
I hate Mardi Gras. There. I said it.
I know. I need to get in the spirit. Cut loose. Have some fun. But I don't know. Mardi Gras and I do not see eye to eye. Mardi Gras means standing for hours at a time, yelling for people to throw things at you. Or if you have the luxury of having space to sit in, it's most likely near a very large group of very drunk people, who are always operating a barbeque or something else with fire and it's like a train wreck. You just know one of them is going to light another one on fire or something equally brilliant and in the end, half the people are going to be hurling just mere feet from where you're standing.
And then there's the beads. I will admit that I love getting the "special" catches, especially glass beads. However, having beads thrown at my head a) scares the bejesus out of me and b) makes my neck really really really sore.
The only thing that salvages Mardi Gras for me is the company. For example, Slappy. On Mardi Gras morning, he and I arise at the ass-crack of dawn, throw on whatever clothes seem like they might match, pour half a container of orange juice into a different plastic container and then fill up the rest of both containers with champagne. Then we take our humongous mimosas and a few beers (to barter) and walk to Zulu, which is a solid 2 mile walk. In the morning. But it's he and I (and not his mother!) and it's great fun.
This year, Daisy is joining the fun. Whether she'll take part in the Mardi Gras Mimosa fest is yet to be determined, but she's only been in town 10 hours and we're already having a kickass time. Or I think so anyways.
The other secret? Despite the fact that I really don't like Mardi Gras? I lied to skip my class tonight to go to parades with Slappy and Daisy.
Perhaps my third secret is that I'm crazy. But then, that's really not a secret at all, is it?
How about two?