For my birthday one year my nephew and niece gave me a key chain that read “Cajun in your Pocket”. If you pressed the buttons, the recording said funny Cajun sayings like “I love you like a pig loves corn” or the ever popular “We gonna pass a good time shy”. It always sent my nephew, who if I do say so myself is the cutest thing on the planet, into a fit of hysteric laughter. Besides the fact that a four year-olds' laugh is the most awesome sweet thing ever this especially brought a smile to my face because it made me think of my Bobby Bouche’ "Waterboy" movie college days.
My grades in high school were so bad that I had no choice but to go to USL (University of Southwestern Louisiana). The first thing I noticed about Lafayette was how unbelievably humid it was; my already naturally curly hair was rendered untamable and for some reason I liked to wear it down to my ass. It was like a sheepskin rug on my head. Making matters worse, my brother used to ask me if a small family of Mexican Migrant farmers were living in my hair. I also thought it would be sexy to dye it white blond - not a good look for a life-long brunette with dark brown eyebrows the size of leeches on steroids. I knew the Pamela Anderson hair color was a bad look after some Cajun Frat Boys walking behind me one day said I had such pretty hair why do I dye the roots black? Umm, thanks A-holes. After the bleach debacle, I decided to dye it back to brown which created a lovely evergreen hue.
My arrival to college came complete with an escorted tour with my dad, Paul. He must have really wanted me to be popular because he took it upon himself to fill out my Sorority application before my arrival. Unbeknownst to me, in the summer between graduating High School and entering College, I was both a bikini model and Miss Arizona. Thanks for letting me know Dad, because it would have come in handy during Rush when all the girls swooned me (and my evergreen hair) to get a look at Miss Arizona - now enrolled in a college in the Bayou. All I can say is thank God there was no Internet in 1987, because those beatches would have Googled me and in a nanosecond, my secret would have been blown. Sadly, my background as Miss Arizona and bikini model experience was not enough to impress the more popular Sorority. I was eventually accepted at Phi Mu (known around campus as "Phi Mooooo"). The good news is that even with green hair and leech brows, I was the hottest of the Phi Moos.
The tour continued when my dad decided to take me to an authentic Cajun restaurant, which I would now appreciate and fancy myself like a critic on the food network. As an 18 year-old however, I could not have been more confused and grossed out by the food. Naturally, we got lost on the way and stopped for directions. An Amy Winehouse-skinny Cajun man came to the car in all his five-toothed glory - to give us directions. He was speaking in Cajun no less and I was thrown into a strange Deliverance moment that made me clench my butt cheeks. We eventually made it to the authentic restaurant filled with tourists. I remember was that I felt very white and there was lots of repulsive gravy. What a waste because I am sure this restaurant was the real deal, but I was too busy thinking I had just moved to another planet to notice.
The next day we arrived at my dorm. As a west-coast girl just removed from sunny Arizona, I couldn't’t figure out the odd, acrid smell that permeated throughout the classy vinyl floored hall. I would later become oh-too familiar with the smell of Afro-Tame - a staple at USL. In hindsight I should have borrowed some to tame my sheepskin rug-head.
I had filled out an application so they could put me with a roommate with my same interests and background. Apparently my counterpart was a 300 pound girl from Jennings, Louisiana with a love of that heart-warming, early 90s mascot Spuds friggen Mackenzie. I walked in to a room wallpapered completely in Spuds posters, most of them with him wearing Ray Bans. To make matters worse, I arrived to see her eating Boudin seafood. Boudin in case you are not aware is a Cajun sausage with all kinds of pig parts in it that Cajuns go absolutely ape shit over. The smell of Afro-Tame, seafood parts in pig casing, and the sight of Spuds was almost to much to bare but I had no other choice. I am sure my roommate wasn’t exactly thrilled with me either as I probably acted like Paris Hilton meeting her cell mate for the first time in jail.
Off to class the on the first day of College, I was met with yet another sign that I had arrived in Cajun Country. The campus was landscaped with a tres-classy man-made, Hulk-green swamp with actual live baby alligators. We gonna pass a good time indeed.