Today, Tuesday, February 5th, turned out to be one heck of a day. It's
Super Tuesday, which is important for reasons thoroughly detailed on
this Wikipedia page (in case you were wondering, no, I did not vote today, but that's because, as a non-citizen permanent resident of the United States, I cannot vote). It was also the day of the New York Giants parade here in the City, which I wrote about in my
previous post. And it's
Mardi Gras, which, at least in New Orleans, is a day marked by drunken revelry, public nudity, and king cake.
What is king cake, you ask? Until this afternoon, I had no idea, but someone brought in a king cake to the office (sent from New Orleans, even) and educated me.
King cake is a ring of bread and icing eaten on or around Mardi Gras, which, I decided, was a good enough reason to have a slice. No one told me about the baby, however.
Every king cake contains a little plastic baby. Guess who found it. Tradition dictates that the finder of the baby gets ten days off from work, $500 in cash, and a puppy. No, that's not true. But I wish it were, except for the puppy part. I want an electric guitar instead. If you really must know about the baby, read about it
here.
What is king cake, you ask? Until this afternoon, I had no idea, but someone brought in a king cake to the office (sent from New Orleans, even) and educated me. King cake is a ring of bread and icing eaten on or around Mardi Gras, which, I decided, was a good enough reason to have a slice. No one told me about the baby, however.
Every king cake contains a little plastic baby. Guess who found it. Tradition dictates that the finder of the baby gets ten days off from work, $500 in cash, and a puppy. No, that's not true. But I wish it were, except for the puppy part. I want an electric guitar instead. If you really must know about the baby, read about it here.
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