The most Bacchanalian of drinkers' holidays begins today. Every year I vow to make it to New Orleans to experience this one-of-a-kind event, and every year I'm sitting right here in Pittsburgh's slushy, freezing February cursing at myself. I even have a boxful of beads ready to go, should I ever actually follow through on that vow.
Maybe 2011 will be different? A fella can always dream. Bottoms up—and tops down.
Laissez les bons temps rouler!
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