Thoughts That Kept Me Out of the Really Good Schools

Yesterday was Bertha's birthday. She's four years old. I can't believe I used to hold her in the palm of my hand.

Bertha 1

Bertha 9-14

She was the sweetest little thing. Now she's 60 pounds of sweetness.

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In honor of Canada Day, show us your favorite Canadian.

And now I shall go to work and listen to Prairie Wind.

I'd tried to figure out what to say about New Orleans other than the "we went here, we did this" synopsis that ended up happening. For whatever reason, I clammed...or I guess more appropriately, oystered...up on how to put into words what New Orleans is like--at least to me. Because there's so much it can be...

I was reading my soul-sister Myng Rabbyt's blog and she was talking about New Orleans...and somehow everything I was trying to figure out how to describe came tumbling forth. I think it was because I know she knows what I'm talking about...and what New Orleans is about, as well.

So, New Orleans as described by me...

New Orleans is old, familiar, comfortable, chaotic and relaxed in one big luminescent ball that surrounds you. It's like the rest of the world doesn't exist outside that space, because the rest of the world has already been there.

We actually took the wrong streetcar when we struck out for the Quarter...we headed uptown. But it was great...seeing everything and passing Loyola and Tulane...then when we hopped off where the steetcar turns right, I looked over my shoulder and saw the stern of some vessel just drifing by.

In my mind, New Orleans isn't just any port city. It's the port city.

Show us a puppy.

Bertha the boxer and the pit bull formerly known as Trixie. (She's got a new home and a new name now.)

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I spent a couple days...well, more like a day and a half...in New Orleans last week. It's been over five years and was therefore long overdue. And it did my soul all kinds of good.

It only takes about three hours to get there...so I have no excuse for not visiting more often. It seems that the place I live is startlingly devoid of culture...but the fact that New Orleans is so close and so full of everything does a lot to make up for it.

We got to our hotel on St. Charles and drove uptown to Tipitina's to see Henry Rollins. It was weird being in Tip's with chairs...and the place was jam packed. But the show was great...it was a trip to see Henry Rollins with all his wound-up angry energy in a place as laid back as New Orleans. The show was also being filmed for an IFC Special scheduled to be out this fall.

Thursday morning we took a streetcar down to the French Quarter, where we headed for Cafe Du Monde for beignets and, as it was way too hot for coffee, bottled water. It was something of a trek; we started on the opposite side of the Quarter...in fact, on the "other" end of Bourbon Street. Fortunately, there aren't a lot of drunk people bewitched by boobies and all the other things that can be found in that area to contend with, so it wasn't much of a big thing.

After breakfast, and with powdered sugar dotting my navy shirt, we struck out again and began the traditional roaming around process. We went to several shops and hid out under a canopy in front of one of them when the token summer thunderstorm passed through. I wasn't particularly concerned, as last time I was in New Orleans the sky turned green and sirens went off while I was crossing Decatur. Besides that, the thunderstorm was most helpful in bringing down the temperature from "I'm turning into a puddle" to "it's a wee bit sticky." Oh, and it washed the powdered sugar off of my shirt.

Eventually we got around to lunch at the Crescent City Brewhouse, went over to the Aquarium, then to the newly opened Insectarium, to Riverwalk Marketplace (if you've seen one mall, you've seen 'em all) and then we finally headed out of the city around 7 that evening. We made one last stop in Manchac for dinner at Middendorf's, which in my experience has the best damn fried catfish in the history of the world.

I'm already planning to go back in September...hopefully then I can spend more than a day roaming the Quarter. I need at least three or four. :)

How can anyone not want to see this guy?! :)

Show us the cartoon character that annoys you the most.

Pepe LePew

 Pepe stinks.

What's your favorite soundtrack?

Hands down: Easy Rider. I've got it on vinyl.

Easy Rider: Soundtrack

Original Soundtrack

I also enjoyed:

She's The One

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Elizabethtown

Original Soundtrack

Of all the compliments I've ever received, this one made me laugh the hardest. Because I appreciated that someone had noticed. Because I've got OCD...er, I pay attention to detail...oh...well...

Because I'm a dork. However, I'm a dork that would make the chair of her department--who has been dubbed The MLA Nazi--very, very proud. It wasn't the high point of my Friday night...but certainly a top-ranking moment.

Incidentally, the giver of this most appreciated comment had just that evening made a reference to Frisbeetarianism, which was the belief system I subscribed to until my relatively recent conversion to Pastafarianism.

There's really no point to that other than it seems everyone and their pool boy was just talking about George Carlin the other day.

Well, that and I think I may have combined Frisbeetarianism and Pastafarianism...because should my soul become stuck on the roof, what better savior to put my faith in than that of His Noodly Appendage?

What a shitty way to start the week.