That's a Relief

This morning as I bent over to put on my shoes, I felt a sharp pain in my right breast. When I stood up, it wasn’t as bad but the pain was still there. Visions of mammograms and chemotherapy went through my head. I’m not an alarmist but my grandmother died of breast cancer at a very young age so that’s where my brain goes if I have any sort of breast-ial discomfort.

I reached under my bra and began prodding and poking my poor boob but couldn’t find the source of the pain. However, as I bent down to put on my other shoe, I was hit again with the same sharp shooting pain. Crap. I went back into examination mode. However, this time, I examined the bra instead of the breast. There it was. The underwire in my bra had broken free of its little fabric prison and had been stabbing my poor booby.

The underside of my right breast now has a lovely little puncture wound. Thank God, it’s only the result of a little self-mutilation caused by a worn-out bra that had seen better days. Rest in peace, my old bosom buddy. It’s to the trash with you, never to defy the laws of gravity again hoisting my mighty breasts high into the air as I walked proudly about the planet. You served us well.

Give Me An F! Give Me a U!...

Last night our local CBS affiliate chose to pre-empt the regular Monday night television schedule to show a local college basketball game. That meant no King of Queens, no How I Met Your Mother (no big loss there), no Two and a Half Men, no Henry Winkler/Stockard Channing (I like that one).

The last time I counted, there are precisely 268 (give or take a couple hundred) sports networks on which this game could have been shown. Did they really think the majority of the Monday night Beaumont television audience wanted to watch basketball instead of Charlie Sheen?

Before you say I don’t have school spirit, just let me say that I have spirit. Yes, I do. I have spirit. How about you? I just didn't have it last night, the same night that Ray Romano was scheduled to guest star on King of Queens.

What did you teach your children today?

My sister took her 15 year old daughter to the store because my niece wanted to cook cupcakes for dessert for Thanksgiving dinner. As my niece walked up and down the aisle, my sister asked her what she was looking for. For example, was she looking for chocolate or white cake mix? Was she looking for a certain frosting?

My niece said, "I'm looking for the cupcake mix."

I'll let you ponder that for a minute.

My sister said, "Katie, there is no such thing as cupcake mix. You just use regular cake mix but you cook it in a cupcake pan."

As my sister retold the story, I looked at her and said, "That's your fault."

She said, "That ain't nothin'. When I got home, I asked Elliott what he would buy if he wanted to cook cupcakes." (Elliott is my 21 year old nephew.)

"I don't know," answered Elliott. "I guess I'd buy milk and eggs."

"Okay, okay, that's right, " said Terry, "But, what kind of cake mix would you buy?"

Elliott said, "Cupcake mix, I guess."

I looked at Terry again and said, "Oh, yeah. This is definitely your fault."

Terry's husband said, "I told them the cupcake mix is on the same aisle as the toast."

Comedy Texas

Friday night we went to Comedy Texas and saw three great comedians (Saidas Ranade, Dennis Fowler and Ray Barnett). The club is great and the comedians were hilarious. If you're looking for something different to do on Friday and/or Saturday night, this is it. On Thursday night they even have an Open Mic Night.

I can think of dozens of hilarious jokes these guys told that I would love to share with you but they were all of the you have to be there variety. So, you have to trust me on this one. If you ever hear that any of these guys are performing in your area, go see them and, if you live anywhere near Beaumont, give Comedy Texas a try.

Seriously, XM or Sirius?

I still haven't bought myself the satellite radio system I've been promising myself since last year. My problem is, I don't know which one to buy.

I strongly believe in signs from God and angels and dead relatives. The last time I left a comment on someone's blog, my password verification word was: XYMXS. Although, I take that as a sign from God (or from Angel Gabriel or from Aunt Gert) that I should buy the XM system, I am also interested in the opinions of you mere mortals.

Any thoughts?

Another Spinal Tap Reference

Did anyone else see Mariah Carey have a Spinal Tap moment Thanksgiving day during halftime of the Atlanta game on Fox? There was a huge butterfly prop and someone had the brilliant idea that it would be a good idea for Mariah to emerge gracefully from the body of the butterlfy.

Problem number one is that it was a disgusting idea. A butterfly giving birth to Mariah Carey will haunt my dreams for many nights to come.

Problem number two is that the producers had apparently never seen the movie This is Spinal Tap. What if Mariah gets stuck in the butterfly and has to claw her way out? That's exactly what happened. However, it was just for a fleeting moment and most people probably didn't even notice it. For example, my family thought I was halluciniating and hysterical from a carb overload as I choked on my pecan pie at the sight of Mariah briefly trapped in her little butterfly coffin.

It was a little gift from the football halftime Gods and so much better than Janet Jackson's boob.

I'm Deaf...Or Am I?

I got into my car Thursday morning, after driving home from Crockett Street Wednesday night, and innocently started my car. For the drive home, I had evidently set my car radio on 11 (Spinal Tap reference).

Every time I get in my car the next morning after going out, I forget that I've driven home deaf from the loud music in the bars and that I karaoked all the way home with my radio way too loud. At some point during the night, my hearing returns to normal and I'm shocked back to audio reality when I start my car the next morning.

Thanksfest at Crockett Street

I went out to Crockett Street for a while tonight for Thanksfest. A $5 entry fee got you into all the clubs and included three bands on the street and three bands in Antone's.

As we neared Crockett Street, there was an ambulance and a firetruck with lights flashing parked at the entrance. I never found out what happened, but it was an exciting way to start the evening. There was also a lot of illegal parking and motorcycles parked willy-nilly all over the place. I love Beaumont.

My main objective for the evening was to see Vallejo. I've seen them at Antone's a couple of times and love their Latin/Rock/Really Cute Lead Singer Guy music style. The last two times I tried to see them, natural disasters intervened, so I was determined to see them this time. However, I mistakenly thought they were playing in Antone's.

After watching Jamie Talbert play in Antone's and waiting for the next band to start, my sister Terry told me she thought Vallejo was going to play on the outside stage. So, Dan and I walked outside and, sure as shit, there was Vallejo. Cool. We watched them sing one song after which Really Cute Lead Singer Guy says, "Thank you! See you next time!" Fuck! I missed them again.

So, we went back into Antone's to watch David Kaiser who is a wonderful singer and musician of the Texas music/rock and roll genre (e.g. Pat Green, Charlie Robison). He was up on stage getting drunk and singing the hell out of Tom Petty and Guy Clark.

Now, if I've paid $30 or $40 for a concert ticket, a loaded lead singer makes me a little nervous. I want my money's worth and I don't want them up there forgetting any lyrics or cussing out the audience. But, for a $5 cover charge to watch four bands, I couldn't wait to see where the beer and shooters took Mr. Kaiser. If he threw up on the hootchie's dancing right close up to the stage, that would have been well worth the cost of admission, $5 well spent.

Of course, this evidently wasn't David Kaiser's first rodeo and the more he drank, the more he kicked ass, musically speaking. However, I left early because I have to cook yams in the morning, but next time I see him, I'm buying that boy a shot.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Texas music rocks.

Democracy in Action (From My Desk Calendar at Work)

Farmer Bill Dies In House

• Newspaper headline about a bill in the U.S. House of Representatives

We concentrated heavily on yard signs. And yard signs, particularly, in people’s yards.

• Waukesha County Circuit (Wisconsin) Court judicial winner Paul Reilly, when asked what the signs were that he would win the race

Ten Things I'm Thankful For

(Besides the usual: family, friends, health, home...yada, yada, yada):

1. It's 6 months until hurricane season
2. I remembered to put the top down on the toilet before opening the cabinet above the toilet
3. Funk
4. Fresh seafood
5. Sugar Baby Martinis
6. Toilet paper
7. Running water and electricity (see number 1)
8. Pecans
9. Deodorant (for me but mostly for other people)
10. Caffeine (lots and lots of caffeine)

What Year Is This?

I got a letter yesterday from my condominium association scheduling a meeting to discuss repairing the hurricane damage to the common areas of our townhouse community. My favorite sentence in the letter said that we would be meeting at Mr. Smith's house because Mr. Smith wanted to discuss repairing the fences in the neighborhood with the men.



You read that right. It didn't just say that the fences would be discussed. It said that Mr. Smith wanted to discuss the repair of the fences with the men. How quaint.

The strangest part of the letter, however, was my reaction to it. I've been a single independant woman for a long time. So, you would think that the chauvinistic tone of the letter would have ruffled my petticoat. Quite the contrary. I actually liked the sound of it. I think on fence repair day, I'll schedule a massage and a facial.

That ain't right...

Would You Like to Tie Me Up With Some of Your Ties, Ty? Lacey Underall, Caddyshack

I tried Thai food this weekend. Tasted like feet...very smelly, spicy feet.

Playing Tag...

I've been tagged by Sleepybomb with this interesting, uh, tag:

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.

These are my five tag-ees (my apologies if you've already done this one):

1. Lorna
2. Astrid
3. Abby
4. Se7en
5. Zach Braff (I'm sure he reads this blog daily.)

Here's the fifth sentence in my 23rd post 10/21/04 (We're Off to See the Wizard):
We, therefore, proceeded to the Dixie (country dancehall) for a while before eventually ending up at the Star Bar to play pool.

Old Hippies: A Field Guide

Warning: Generalizations will be made and stereotypes will be perpetuated.

While at the Johnny and Edgar Winter concert, there were cowboys (both real and pretend) and various other kinds of regular everyday people. By far, however, the vast majority of the crowd consisted of Old Hippies.

There are many varieties and sub-varieties of Old Hippies. Their distinguishing characteristics are chronological, economical and geographical. The age of an Old Hippie ranges from 40-ish to 60-ish. The Old Hippie will, on occasion, move from one Old Hippie economic category to another as the result of changes in their employment and/or marital status. Employment and marital status changes frequently occur congruently.

While some Old Hippies are living la vida loca as the result of enduring many years of quiet desperation at unfulfilling but well-paying occupations, the vast majority of Old Hippies still live within twenty miles of where they spent their teenage to mid-twenties glory days. They live in homes much like they grew up in and usually drive a pick-up truck or a Harley. They are less successful, economically speaking, than some of their Old Hippie peers, because they held more seasonal types of jobs (plumbing, carpentry, welding) which allowed for plenty of time off between gigs for concert-going, beach bumming, road trips and just, generally, hanging out with their buds (see definition for buds below).

The hippie state of mind is generally considered to be liberal, earth-friendly, peace loving and of the belief that everything is okay as long as no one gets hurt. In some cases, however, Old Hippie-dom is a state of delusion rather than a state of mind. Most of us Old Hippies, look at our favorite rock icons and think, "Man, that guy don't look so good," and we're horrified to realize that most of them are now Medicare age. The delusional Old Hippie, on the other hand, thinks "Man, that guy hasn't changed at all, dude. Fuckin' A! ROCK AND ROLL!!!!!!!!!!!" The delusion is the result of many years of bud: Bud-weiser and bud-reefer.

Physically, there are some Old Hippies who have weathered well but, for the most part, their skin is like leather, they have rather large beer guts (both the men and the women) and their wardrobes still consist mainly of blue jeans, t-shirts and tennis shoes or boots of some sort (both the men and the women).

Most Old Hippies dance with a heavy foot (both the men and the women) and only after they've become totally wasted. Favorite bands include Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZ Top and Kid Rock. Old Old Hippies and Young Old Hippies tend to have similar musical tastes although some will lean more toward Grateful Dead or Phish, while others might favor Jimmy Buffet or strictly southern rock.

Geographically speaking, for a perfect example of southern Old Hippies, you need look no further than the new television series My Name is Earl and add about ten years to the ages of the characters. I can't improve on that depiction. West coast Old Hippies are still up in the Sierras hugging trees and east coast Old Hippies still haunt Greenwich Village. As for northern Old Hippies, I have no idea. My feeling is that they are probably all of the transplanted variety but I could be wrong about that.

By the way, if forced to relocate, Old Hippies from the east coast or the west coast, might take on some of the characteristics of their indigenous counterparts. However, an Old Hippie from the south is and always will be of the southern Old Hippie variety whether he still lives in Alabama or has, for some inexplicable reason, moved to Minnesota. You can take the Old Hippie out of Alabama but you can't take the Alabama out of the Old Hippie.

Johnny and Edgar Winter: Welcome Home

Johnny and Edgar Winter were born in Beaumont, Texas rather than Port Arthur as I had previously posted here. I went to see them Thursday night at the Beaumont Civic Center. They hadn't been onstage together in twenty-four years and it was well worth the wait.

Johnny's performance was nothing short of spiritual. While Edgar is rock and jazz, Johnny is a pure blues man. He is in fragile health and was seated before the lights came up and left the stage after the lights went down. Rumors included a broken hip and problems with his vision. Watching his performance was like watching the magic of a hummingbird delicately hovering in mid-air while at the same time furiously beating his wings. While Johnny beautifully hovered above us on the stage, his hands and fingers furiously beat his guitar strings, and us, into submission.

Edgar, on the other hand, was a ball of energy twirling and running all over the stage. Watching him perform Frankenstein was one of the most incredible concert moments I have ever experienced. He played synthesizer, keyboard (hanging by a guitar strap around his neck), saxophone and drums. He also joined Johnny onstage with his sax for a couple numbers. Regarding the guitar strapped keyboard, Edgar says he invented that after being tired of staying trapped behind a keyboard in concerts while everyone else was running around and having all the fun.

People, people, people...

...is it a full moon or something?

These are some of my search engine hits from last night. I won’t even disturb you with the one about the grandma…sick bastard.

that seventy show generic lyrics
don't call your ex
pics girls on and in urinals
rockin' doopsie junior
rectal thermometers for sexual pleasure

A Word (or few) to the Not So Wise

After you park your car in the company parking lot, do NOT cross the street to your office building by walking right down the middle of the same driveway that people are using to drive INTO said company parking lot.

There were two of these Einsteins walking together this morning and they looked at me like I was crazy when I almost plastered them all over the driveway.

Michael Jackson Age Projection

I saw this on television the other night so, of course, I had to Google it. This site is by forensic artist Stephen Mancusi. I thought the most interesting age progression on the site is the one below showing what Michael Jackson would possibly look like now if he had never had any alleged (I can barely type the word alleged with a straight face) plastic surgery.

His Name is Earl

I love this show. Along with The Office, it’s a great way to spend an hour on a Tuesday night. By 10:00 p.m., after switching over to ABC to watch Boston Legal, I’ve made a really nice, comfortable, pre-hump-day dent in my couch cushions.

I want to take this opportunity to inform those of you who don’t have day-to-day contact with the urbanly challenged, like we do here in southeast Texas, that the characters on My Name is Earl are not caricatures. The same can be said for the characters on Boston Legal. I’ve known a lot of Earls and Joys and Randys in my life and quite a few Denny Cranes.

You know the Giovanni Ribisi character from My Name is Earl a couple of weeks ago? That guy (and lots more like him) spent many a night sleeping on my couch when I was married to my ex-husband, the Duke of Earldom.

The common thread here is that these people know who they are and they’re proud of it. They’re proud of their Dodge Hemis and their 4-wheelers and the fact that momma can cook a mean pecan pie. And, that’s the Denny Cranes.

Happy Birthday, Cory!

My beautiful son turns 25 years old today. Happy Birthday, Cory!

Love,

Yo' Momma

The Winter Brothers

I’m going to see the Edgar Winter Band and Johnny Winter tomorrow night here in Beaumont. These guys are from my home town (Port Arthur) and I don’t remember the last time they played here in southeast Texas . I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in concert, but I really don’t remember.

I missed Dwight Yoakum last week. He was in Beaumont but he was playing at Wild Bills on a Thursday night and it was Honky Tonk Seating. Honky Tonk Seating actually has nothing to do with sitting. In Honky Tonk Seating, you kind of wander around all night with a beer in your hand waiting for the concert to start (usually after 10:00 p.m.) then you squeeze as close to the stage as you can get. However, no matter how close you get, you are invariably stuck behind four or five rows of men who are wearing cowboy hats. Put another way, you can’t see shit.

The Winter brothers are going to be at the Civic Center and I’ll be in the third row…in a seat.

Mmmmmmmmm...Chianti!

I’m going to a dinner party Friday night and I offered to bring the wine. When we went to Frankie’s one evening, I discovered the Banfi Bell'agio Chianti and loved it. Since I dislike going into liquor stores (strange but true) and I have no idea who stocks the Bellagio anyway, I decided I would just stop at Frankie’s on my way to the party and buy three bottles of the Chianti for a party of four. The bottles are really small. Really.

On my way home last night, I decided I should stop at Kroger. With the worker shortage around here, I couldn’t get a pizza delivered Sunday. So, I decided, rather than eat peanut butter straight out of the jar (again) with canned frosting for dessert (again), I should probably start keeping actual food in my house. (Arriba salsa counts as a vegetable, right?) As I picked up the last item on my shopping list, I realized that the one item I had not crossed off was all the way on the other side of the store.



So, I took a shortcut through the wine aisle and, what do you know, there on a top shelf almost at the end of the aisle were several bottles of the lovely Bell'agio Chianti. I bought three bottles (they’re small, remember) for the party. I also decided to buy a fourth bottle to keep at home but I couldn’t reach that last bottle way in the back. I decided that I looked enough like a wino without standing on the bottom shelf of the wine display and pulling the whole thing down on top of me. I’ll just have to pop back into Kroger tonight on my way home.

Do you have any idea how dangerously convenient it is for my new favorite wine to be at my favorite grocery store, on the street I take to go home every night, one aisle over from the milk and bread and bagels?

Them Boys From Oklahoma Roll Their Joints All Wrong

When we went out Saturday night, one of the guys at the Star Bar sang this song. For some reason, it made me giggle and then I got really hungry.


Boys From Oklahoma
Jason Boland

Them boys from Oklahoma roll their joints all wrong.
They're too damn skinny and way too long.
Well I ain't no holy roller, so I just use a bong.
Them boys from Oklahoma roll their joints all wrong.

Them boys in Arkansas they got some damn fine pot.
That's a direct result of all them good seeds they got.
Haulin' water up the hill's a chore but damn i'll tell you what.
Them boys from Arkansas they got some damn fine pot.

Them boys down there in Texas got some damn fine weed.
They smuggle it across the Rio, they use the Mexican breed.
That's exploitin' cheap labor, but hell that's Texican's creed.
Them boys down in Texas got some damn fine weed.

Chorus

Them boys just north in Kansas, hell all they got is a bunch of schwag.
And they'll try to screw you for fifty bucks for a quarter bag.
I got some in my guitar case but I'm not the type to brag.
But it's a damn sight better than that Kansanian schwag.

See them faggots over in Norman they got themselves a kinky streak.
They like to roll their own but their sooner wrists are too damn weak.
But they'll sure start to puff'n though if you stick one in their beak.
Them boys from up in Norman got a kinky streak.

Chorus

See them boys in Colorado would just as soon pan for gold.
The nights are too long, and the growin season's too cold.
They just as soon smoke a joint that Jason Boland had rolled himself.
Least that's what I been told.

Them boys from Louisiana got trouble growin' their weed.
Them alligators is mean, and they eat up all the dang seeds.
But on a bayou night by the light of the full moon,
You can walk out and pick you a sack full of 'shrooms.

Chorus

Them boys up in Virginia, they stay inside and smoke the pipe.
They cant go outside cause they're afraid they might get sniped.
But they sure grow the good stuff, they roll it up when it gets ripe.
Them boys up in Virginia stay inside and smoke the pipe.

Them boys from Oklahoma roll their joints all wrong.
They're too damn skinny and way too long.
Well mine looks like a pregnant dolphin I'd just as soon use a bong.
Them boys from Oklahoma roll their joints all wrong.

First Case of Bird Flu in America

CSI - Chess Scene Investigation

Welcome to the Sidebar

I've added a couple of people to my sidebar.

The first is Tim who is a friend of Sleepybomb of The Wreckroom. Tim is in New Orleans and has some amazing stories about everyday life in New Orleans right now in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

The second is Pete Townshend of The Who fame. I learned about his blog from Sleepybomb also.

Reading Sleepybomb and Tim's blogs made me realize that all post-hurricane disaster zones have several things in common:

• Months (Katrina) and weeks (Rita) after the storms, there are still as many tarped blue roofs as there are roofs without tarps.
• Huge piles of debris still line all the roadways.
• Small plastic signs line the streets all over town advertising roofers, mold removal, carpenters and flooring companies ,but you still can't get anyone to come to your house and repair anything.
• Help wanted signs can be seen at almost all of the restaurants and most of the retail stores. (I can understand this in New Orleans but where is the Beaumont workforce?)
• There is horrible traffic everywhere because some of the traffic signals are still not functional.
• Where the street lights still haven't been repaired, it's amazingly dark even in the middle of the city. I can't imagine what it was like right after the storm.
• There are long lines at restaurants and most restaurants still aren't serving their full menu.
• We have all learned to appreciate the little things like door-to-door mail service, traffic signals and street lights, grocery stores and gas stations.

On the menu tonight...

Tonight we started out at Antone's for a nice spicy appetizer of Baton Rouge gumbo in the form of The Cam Pyle Band. We then moved on to the main course of Texas fare at The Star Bar cooked up by David Lee Kaiser and Lee Pelly. We finished off the evening with a touch of smooth, creamy live jazz at the martini bar TEN.

I don't know who was playing the jazz at TEN, but Terry kept going over there to use their restroom rather than wait in line at the Star Bar and when she came back the first time she said, "There's a guy over at TEN standing in the corner playing one of those things we used to play in music class in elementary school. You know, a zephyr. No, a Zamfir. No, that's not it, a...crap. What are they called?"

I offered, "A zither?"

"Yeah! That's it. I think. No, that's not it. Well, maybe that's it."

Thirty minutes later, on her next restroom trip, she came back to the table and said, "Now, there's a three-piece combo over there playing jazz."

"Cool," says I.

Next bathroom trip, she came back and Dan said, "Don't tell us. There's a ten piece orchestra over there now."

"No," she said, "Just the same three guys."

When we left the Star Bar, I said, "We have to pop into TEN and see what's going on."

Guess what. There was a six piece combo in there playing some really great music. By closing time I bet they had more people playing the music than listening to it.

Pictures from Friday (Steve's Birthday)

First we have a picture of the sitting area by the bar at the Black Cat. As you will recall from a previous post, this is where a bouncer went bonkers on our ass. Wang Chi has a post up now about that night. Pop on over there and give him your opinion about the whole sordid incident, if you like.



Here we have Jimmy, Steve, Dan, Christi and Terry at The Dixie Dancehall.


Steve, Dan and Terry (also at the Dixie)

Some dude about to bust his ass on the mechanical bull.

Our friend, Luke the Picture Dude, in front of Antones. Antones has a picture of our group that was taken by Luke at the Dixie for Clay's birthday posted in the front window. We're just too cool for school. (The picture is above and to the right of Luke's head.)

The TEN martini bar so-named because it was the tenth venue to open on Crocket Street. We love this place.

Terry, Steve and Alfa at TEN.

More Pics of our Picture in Front of Antones...

(The picture was taken at Clay's birthday, July 2005. Clay is in the white cowboy hat on the left in the back.)

Daily Show and Hurricane Rita Videos

While we were evacuated for Hurricane Rita, there were thirteen of us at my brother's house with two televisions so I wasn't able to satisfy my addiction to watching the Daily Show, well, daily. After a week at my brother's house, we moved on to my son's house but he only has basic cable. I don't know where I went wrong with that boy.

I noticed on Vespa guy's blog that he had some links to a couple of videos of stories The Daily Show did about the hurricane and Beaumont.

Here are some more links to Daily Show videos.

Link 1

Link 2

Link 3

Link 4

Happy Birthday Steve!

Tonight we went out to celebrate my sister's husband's brother Steve's birthday (the picture is Steve, his sister Christi and his brother Dan...3 of the seven Grillo children). Me and Terry and Alfa met at Rio Rita's for Mexican food and margaritas and the Vespa was in the parking lot but I didn't see the Vespa dude so when we left Rio Rita's, we went to TEN and had Sugar Baby Martini's for a while until Steve showed up then we went over to the Star Bar and they were playing 80's music which began a long Michael Jackson conversation which becomes important later and we had a few drinks over there and then we went to the Dixie and we danced for a while and, what do you know, while Steve and I were dancing to a Michael Jackson mix, they announced his birthday, weird, huh?

Then, we went back to TEN where we met an insurance adjuster who was in town from Kansas City (I think) because of Hurricane Rita and he looked just like Sam Kinneson and he told us about some comedian named Shimmel or something and we talked to him for a while then we went to the Black Cat where they told us we couldn't take any pictures which was weird because this isn't New York City or anything so we left and I came home.

The End.

French Quarter Walking Tour by Se7en

My blogging friend Se7en who lives in New Orleans took a walking tour of the French Quarter and posted some pictures on his blog. He also took a short video which you can watch at the end of the post. A couple of weeks ago, I saw some pictures of Jackson Square taken on a Friday and Decatur was deserted. It was very depressing. Se7en's pictures are a bit more uplifting and the video shows people and cars and you can even hear music coming from the bars.

The saddest part of the post for me is the picture of the Cat's Meow. Se7en mentions that although the Cat's Meow doesn't appear to be damaged from the outside, it's still closed. I think it probably has something to do with the fact that the bar in the middle of the Cat's Meow near the restrooms downstairs is actually in a small courtyard. I'm guessing the courtyard bar, the stairs leading up to the second floor bar and the downstairs restrooms probably had a lot of damage.

The funny thing about that courtyard bar at Cat's is that most people don't realize that it's a courtyard and that it's open to the sky. I had been to New Orleans at least a half dozen times when someone said something about the courtyard at the Cat's Meow and I said, "What courtyard?" When I bring people to the Cat's Meow for the first time, I never point out the courtyard. Then, the next day I tell them about it and they don't believe me. When we go back the second night they always say something along the lines of, "Well, I'll be damned. It is a fucking courtyard."

Vespa!

I have to have a Vespa. A guy is riding one to work and he parks in my parking lot and I am in love with that bike. I started to tell the guy, “Cute bike.” But, I didn’t know how guys felt about being told that something they have is cute. So, I got all tongue-tied and didn’t say anything because my brain couldn’t get past cute. I think tomorrow I’ll ask him about gas mileage or something. I shall say, “Nice bike.” Yeah, that’s it, “Nice bike.”

There would be lots of advantages to owning a Vespa. They aren’t very expensive and they get great gas mileage. Also, as I learned from my evacuation experience, an automobile is virtually useless in an emergency/catastrophic/nuclear explosion/hurricane evacuation-type situation.

My only fear about riding a scooter (other than the fact that I'm extremely accident prone) is the same fear I have about riding in convertibles. I heard a line on CSI one time that describes my feelings perfectly, “Women in convertibles are like low hanging fruit.” What would keep someone from knocking me over the head and stealing my Vespa while I’m sitting at a stoplight? Frankly, I don’t really feel safe sitting inside my car with all of my doors locked at a stoplight. In a convertible or on a Vespa, I’d be out there ripe for the picking like a nice juicy ba-nah-na.

I’ve got it. How about, “Nice bike. It matches your eyes.”

Miss New Orleans Answers Your Sex Questions

How long does it take the average woman to achieve orgasm?
That depends on when she last changed the Duracells.

No, I mean, how long does it take for the average woman to achieve orgasm during intercourse?
Could you repeat the question? Again...again...again...a little to the left...
What was the question?

How long does it take the average man to achieve orgasm?
Would that be with his wife, with his mistress or with the hoochie he picked up downtown last weekend at closing time?

You're an idiot.
These are relevant factors pertinent to the question at hand. Oh, at hand. That brings up another factor...

Asshole.
That's not a question.

By Laurie Ransonette Anderson
(You never know where the inspiration for a post will come from. In this particular case, inspiration came in the form of a new pair of Duracells.)

Today's Science Experiment

Theory:
People will eat anything placed on a community table in an office break room.

Materials Needed:
Office kitchen, office workers, food (any kind: leftover baby shower cake, Halloween candy, cookies, ramen noodles, plain old saltine crackers, white bread, graham crackers)

Procedure:
Place food on table in break room. Walk away.

Optional:
Leave a note which reads Help Yourself. This step is absolutely not necessary.

Time Lapsed:
The time lapsed between subject's awareness of food (either by e-mail or by word of mouth spread by the official office food alert person) and the complete consumption of said food is directly proportional to either (1) chocolate content of the food or (2) whether the food appears to actually have been cooked by a real person in their own personal kitchen. The identity of the person (co-worker, somebody's mother, total stranger) who possibly actually cooked the food is unimportant. If the food appears to be homemade, it will be eaten...fast.

Conclusion:
Human office worker type people are much like rodents and could easily be caught like rats in traps. They will eat anything and everything left in a break room whether they know who left it or not. Ergo, it is not necessary to knock yourself out for the annual Thanksgiving/Boss' Day/Christmas covered dish dinner. These people will eat anything.

By Laurie Ransonette Anderson

Happy Monday, My Darlings!

Pictures from Friday Night (Tab Benoit)

On the Useless Women Trifecta post, I have posted some pics of the psycho stalker. Read all about Tab Benoit here. Below are other pictures from Friday night...

Tab Benoit

Mom and Dad dancing

Mom and dad always take their glasses off before they go dance.

Mom and Dad

Last night I dreamed...

I know I said I was going to lay off the dream interpretation posts until I had something interesting to post but one of the dreams I had last night was just too strange not to throw it out there and see what you people think.

I was in my childhood home in Port Arthur but I was an adult. It was Thanksgiving and both sides of my family were coming over for dinner. It was 11:30 a.m. and I hadn't showered yet and people were beginning to show up. (On a side note, my cousin from Lafayette who has multiple sclerosis was there and she was chasing after her baby daughter...who is now a teenager. That was pretty cool.) Since it was getting close to lunch time, I knew I had to take a shower and put on some makeup.

I went into the bathroom and got in the shower. In our old house in Port Arthur, there was a window in the shower. I never thought it was weird at the time but, suddenly, I find that kind of strange. As I was leaning over to turn on the shower, I could hear people outside the window. It was my dad's cousin, Barbara Jane (that's her real name, cool, huh?) and her husband Alvin. Barbara Jane was there to fill up the liquid bath wash dispenser in the shower.

I asked her, "What are you doing here?" She said, "I have this wonderful bath wash I want you to try." I told her, "Well, I'm in a bit of a hurry. We're going to eat soon and I don't want everyone to see me like this." She said, "That's okay. I'm almost done. Alvin, we need to fill up the hand wash dispenser, too."

That's it. Then I woke up. If you guys can make anything out of that weird-ass dream, I'll really be impressed.

By the way, Abby, we all know I need to drink and have sex. That's a given.

Useless Women Trifecta

I went to Antone's tonight to see Tab Benoit. More on that tomorrow...with pictures! He's a living doll and plays guitar like buttah.

Before I go to bed, however, I have to post this while I'm still in a mood. Tonight I scored a useless women trifecta.

1. Useless Woman Numero Uno (I tried to get pictures but the tequila/coke/crack/ecstasy cocktail she must have ingested rendered my camera useless.) - The 98 pound bitch who stood within 2 inches of my right shoulder the entire night. If she wasn't prancing around like a hyperactive chihuahua, she was riding her boyfriend like he was Seabiscuit.
2. 
   
3. Useless Woman Numero Dos (See pictures below.) - The psycho stalker chick who stood right by the stage the whole night staring scarily at Tab Benoit. She actually sat on the stage during the last set. I don't mean that she was sitting on the edge of the stage with her feet hanging down. She was sitting at the front of the stage (stage left for you theater aficionados) leaning on a support beam with both feet up on the stage. She reminded me of those chicks in those old Elvis movies who would watch longingly as Elvis sang one of his musical numbers in those wonderfully horrible old Elvis movies.
4. 
   
5. Useless Woman Numero Tres - I had the most useless waitress I have ever had at Antones. Every time I ordered drinks on my tab (which was often), she asked me my name. As many tabs as I've run in bars (which is a lot), I have never been repeatedly asked my name. Actually, I don't think I have ever been asked my name. On top of that, every time we would ask for a Budweiser (a plain old Budweiser), we didn't know what we would get. One time she same back with Bud Light and one time she came back with Bud Select. I seriously don't think she knew the difference. I even had to go to the bar to close out my tab, something I have never had to do.

I'm going to bed. I hope I dream about those three useless women forever pushing a rock up a hill like Sisyphus. Except, I'll be at the top of the hill pushing their silly asses and their silly rocks back down the hill.


Psycho Stalker Pics

Dream a Little Dream

None of my dreams have stuck in my brain this morning. I didn't realize that although I remember dreaming every night, only a very small percentage stick with me the next morning or throughout the day and that an even smaller percentage occasionally stick with me for much longer.

Therefore, rather than each morning posting any dreams I might happen to remember, I'm only going to post the ones that nag at me. I think those are the ones that are most probably my little brain trying to work things out on its own.

I have found the analysis you've left in my comments so far to be fascinating especially those from Popeye. However, the one that keeps repeating itself in my brain and might possibly have the deepest (excuse the pun) meaning comes from Abby at Falafel Sex: ...I think it means you need to drink and have sex. Dream analysis is easy.

Maxine

555

For the second time today, I’ve come across the numbers 555. (It might be the third. I don’t remember what time I looked at my clock this morning but it was definitely right before 6:00 a.m.) I’ve always considered 5 to be my lucky number because I was born 9/5/55. Maybe this is my lucky day.

(Or maybe I’m going to be bothered by a demon who is just 111 less evil than Satan.)


Edited at 11:35 a.m. to add: I just saw 555 again so I Googled it (I Google a lot) and found this site. The site says that these sort of things happen when your angels are trying to communicate with you. Since I converse with angels on a regular basis, this makes perfect sense to me.

This is what the site says about the combination of 555 (which is strange indeed if you've been reading my dream analysis posts):

Buckle your seatbelts. A major life change is upon you. This change should not be viewed as being "positive" or "negative," since all change is but a natural part of life's flow. Perhaps this change is an answer to your prayers, so continue seeing and feeling yourself being at peace. When you see this sign a life changing thought or event has just occured. You may not like it, or you may. Whatever the case the angels are notifying you that an episode in your life has come to an end and it is time to move on.

This is what is says about 11:11 which I see all the time:

Monitor your thoughts carefully, and be sure to only think about what you want, not what you don't want. This sequence is a sign that there is a gate of opportunity opening up, and your thoughts are manifesting into form at record speeds. The 111 is like the bright light of a flash bulb. It means the universe has just taken a snapshot of your thoughts and is manifesting them into form. Are you pleased with what thoughts the universe has captured? If not, correct your thoughts (ask your angels to help you with this if you have difficulty controlling or monitoring your thoughts). This sign can also signal that your thoughts are evidence of the start of a new cycle in your life and that the thoughts you are having are related to the start of a new cycle in your life.

Wednesday Night Dreams

It was another boring night, dream-wise. I dreamed about hurricanes which isn't surprising at all and I'm certain hides no deep inner emotional conflict (although I'm sure Anonymous will disagree). The beginning of the night the dreams were centered around getting out of town but I don't specifically remember what the dreams were about or how they ended.

The end of the night, right before I woke up, the dreams were a bit more ominous as areas of my house which previously had no storm damage began to crumble (mostly ceilings) six weeks after the storm. In the dream, I wasn't particularly upset about it though.

I think the dreams are the result of still living in the wake of Hurricane Rita. The aftermath of the storm is still very much a part of our daily lives.

If you've just tuned in, this is the part where you analyze my dream...off you go.

Mmmmmmm...Debris!

My blogging friend Danno has two blogs (Cook's Journal and New Orleans Cuisine) and a website (NOLA Cuisine). At NOLA Cuisine, you can find all kinds of wonderful recipes like the one pictured above.

The sandwich is a Roast Beef Po'boy with Debris Gravy. Debris gravy is gravy made out of the scrumptious little bits of meat and gravy at the bottom of your roasting pan. Regarding the desired tenderness of the meat for the sandwich, Danno says: the object is for the meat to just fall apart…not by breathing on it, that would still be too tough, but by just looking at it. About a 10 second stare should do the trick.

If you don't want to make your own and you happen to be in New Orleans or are planning a trip to New Orleans, Mother's Restaurant at 401 Poydras is famous for their debris sandwiches.

I also found out from Danno that there is a website you can check out to find out which restaurants in New Orleans are re-opening and when.

Tuesday Night Dream

The dreams I remember from last night were very mundane so I will present you with a dream that I have from time to time. I don't consider this one to be recurring in the same sense as the train dream because the train dream has been exactly the same (except for the end) both times I have dreamed it.

Occasionally, I dream I'm working at a job I had thirty years ago that I hated. I was a receptionist in an ophthalmologist's office. The women I worked with were great and we had a lot of fun but the doctor and some of the patients could be very mean. In the dream, the office is always horribly busy and I'm trying to do a million things at one time. At some point in the dream, I always realize that I have a job that I love now and that I'm just dreaming and the dream ends.

Okay, dream sleuths, off you go...

From My Desk Calendar at Work

Conveniently Located Near All Local Nursing Homes(ad for the Lee Chapel West Mortuary, Seguin, Texas)

(The pictures are from the movie Bubba Ho-Tep with Bruce Campbell and Ossie Davis.)