Reasons why it's nice being single :
1. Cereal, it's what's for dinner (forget beef!).
2. I can sit around in whatever I want (case in point, right now, its the shirt I wore to the office, my underwear, and ballet flats).
3. I can go to bed whenever I so choose and not worry about disturbing someone.
3a. I get the WHOLE bed to myself!
3b. I don't have to listen to someone snore so loudly it rattles the paint from the walls.
4. I don't have to clean if I don't want to and I don't have to cook if I don't want to (see #1).
5. And this one should be obvious, I get to play Channel Commando all the time!
6. I don't have to talk about anything when I walk in the door-not my day, not politics, not family affairs. I can just be quiet, drink a beer, and decompress in peace.
I'm sure there are other things I could think of, but this is all I could come up w/off the top of my head and not completely sound like a bitter, cynical woman.
Now, if you'll excuse me, my big, comfy bed w/cool crisp sheets is calling my name. Good night, and big balls.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
If this is what awaits me, I'll be happily single forever!
It was a Saturday night in June. As is now often the case, unless I've already made plans, I'd been lazily sitting around the house all day and had finally gotten up, cleaned the house, showered, and tossed in some laundry.
It was around 7:30pm, and I was starting to get a little hungry. My Turkish neighbor, Al, texted me and asked if he could come by and say hello to the cats (he cat sits for me when I have to go out of town). While I didn't really feel like any visitors, I hadn't seen Al in awhile, so I told him to come over. I told myself it was the neighborly thing to do.
Al came over, beer in hand (of course), and he sat down on my ottoman and we chatted whilst he visited w/Dallas and Levi (they LOVE him, btw). I was pretty famished by this time, having not eaten anything all day. Rather than be rude and tell him to leave because I was going out, I asked Al if he'd want to go out and get some food. After all, what's wrong w/sharing a meal w/a neighbor? I really wasn't planning on this being a date, but I know Al is kinda sweet on me, so why not? Al said he'd like to go and asked if I could wait for 15 minutes. I said sure, but told him to hurry.
Now, if you know anything about me, you know that when I get THAT hungry, I become rather mean. In fact, I think my ex-mother-in-law told me I could be an outright bitch when I'm hungry.....Nice. 15 minutes came and went, no Al. 20 minutes, 25 minutes, 30 MINUTES later, and he finally showed up. I think my comment to him was something like "You should NEVER keep a lady waiting." ....Hello pretentious brat (at least I can admit it!).
Al doesn't drive, not that he doesn't know how (or so he says), he just doesn't like to get behind the wheel. So, we hopped in the Volvo and headed down Magazine. I wanted wings so I took him to WOW-this bar/wing place down near me. There wasn't really anyone in the bar for a Saturday night, so we sat down immediately. That was where the pleasantries ended.
The waitress came over to take a simple drink order. Al couldn't decide what he wanted and asked her to come back.....She came back and he STILL didn't know what he wanted to drink! I ordered an Abita Amber draft and he finally just asked for the same thing. From here, the menu issues began. "What does he want?" "How hot is "hot" on the wing category?" "Am I gonna get wings?" Al must have looked at that menu for 20 minutes before making a decision. In the meantime, I told him, "I'm ordering an appetizer. What will you NOT eat?" Obviously, I didn't wanna get something the man wouldn't like! This spawned off into another 5 minutes of discussion. First he said chips and salsa. Well, unfortunately, the waitress was standing at the table when he said that, and as soon as he said "chips and salsa" she trotted off. I just assumed she was as exasperated by him as I was and was leaving to give him more time.
Eventually, Al decided he wanted fried pickles and fried mushrooms. Waitress came back, I placed the order and went ahead and ordered my food too. Al followed suit. While we're sitting there waiting for the apps, his critique began: "The floors are awfully dirty in here. Why can't they sweep?" "Look at the light fixture. That really needs to be cleaned." "Why aren't there more napkins on the table?" "This table cloth is sticky." "My silverware looks dirty." "The booths in here look like something from the Brady Bunch and what's up w/the strands of colored Christmas lights on the walls?" I finally told him he was in a bar and if he wanted some place clean, he shouldn't have chosen New Orleans as a place to live.
He was pretty loaded by this time so he turned the conversation to the Jews, Greeks, and Blacks. OK.....CHAPPY DONE! I sat there at the table looking at my neighbor thinking "My God when will this be over?!?!?" Around that time, the waitress brought out some chips and salsa. I asked her what it was and she said it was what he ordered.... "Ummm, okay..." We started nibbling. The man began double and triple dipping. "Hello, does proper etiquette mean ANYTHING to you?" When you barely know someone YOU DON'T DOUBLE DIP! I sat amazed, but it gets better, or worse, depending on how you're viewing the situation.
The waitress then brought out the fried pickles and the fried mushrooms, which would have been fine, if we hadn't already ordered wings and fries too! Ziggy Piggy! Al gobbled up the mushrooms amidst more complaining and a slew of offensive comments. The wings finally came and I just tried to get through them as fast as I could. Much to my surprise, the night got worse. As I was sucking down wings and chugging my beer, my neighbor, Al, does something so grotesque I was w/out speech..... The man blew his nose at the table. He proceeded to do this several times throughout what was left of the meal. And that was it for me.....CHECK!
The waitress brought the bill, just as Al wanted to toast to our first date. I rarely hold my tongue for anyone, so I pointedly told him this was NOT a date, and reached for the check. He asked why I didn't think it was a date, and as old school and cliche as this is going to sound, my response was "You're not paying. It's not a date." The bill, with THREE appetizers was $50 so he handed me a $20. I handed the book back to the waitress and asked her to process w/due haste.
On the way home, Al wanted to stop off at a new bar that's just opened up down the street from me, The Rum House. I, of course, said no, and drove us home. As I walked to my door, keys ALREADY in hand, he said we should definitely do this again. My response was a simple "no". He of course pushed for a more elaborate response, to which I replied "I have never, in my life, been at a table w/someone who complains about every little thing. You didn't stop complaining for one second and you couldn't make your mind up about ANYTHING!" Al was, thankfully, too drunk by this point to really comprehend what I was telling him, so I don't think I hurt his feelings....much.
Seriously, if the above is what awaits me in the dating pool, please, everyone, refrain from trying to set me up-ever.
It was around 7:30pm, and I was starting to get a little hungry. My Turkish neighbor, Al, texted me and asked if he could come by and say hello to the cats (he cat sits for me when I have to go out of town). While I didn't really feel like any visitors, I hadn't seen Al in awhile, so I told him to come over. I told myself it was the neighborly thing to do.
Al came over, beer in hand (of course), and he sat down on my ottoman and we chatted whilst he visited w/Dallas and Levi (they LOVE him, btw). I was pretty famished by this time, having not eaten anything all day. Rather than be rude and tell him to leave because I was going out, I asked Al if he'd want to go out and get some food. After all, what's wrong w/sharing a meal w/a neighbor? I really wasn't planning on this being a date, but I know Al is kinda sweet on me, so why not? Al said he'd like to go and asked if I could wait for 15 minutes. I said sure, but told him to hurry.
Now, if you know anything about me, you know that when I get THAT hungry, I become rather mean. In fact, I think my ex-mother-in-law told me I could be an outright bitch when I'm hungry.....Nice. 15 minutes came and went, no Al. 20 minutes, 25 minutes, 30 MINUTES later, and he finally showed up. I think my comment to him was something like "You should NEVER keep a lady waiting." ....Hello pretentious brat (at least I can admit it!).
Al doesn't drive, not that he doesn't know how (or so he says), he just doesn't like to get behind the wheel. So, we hopped in the Volvo and headed down Magazine. I wanted wings so I took him to WOW-this bar/wing place down near me. There wasn't really anyone in the bar for a Saturday night, so we sat down immediately. That was where the pleasantries ended.
The waitress came over to take a simple drink order. Al couldn't decide what he wanted and asked her to come back.....She came back and he STILL didn't know what he wanted to drink! I ordered an Abita Amber draft and he finally just asked for the same thing. From here, the menu issues began. "What does he want?" "How hot is "hot" on the wing category?" "Am I gonna get wings?" Al must have looked at that menu for 20 minutes before making a decision. In the meantime, I told him, "I'm ordering an appetizer. What will you NOT eat?" Obviously, I didn't wanna get something the man wouldn't like! This spawned off into another 5 minutes of discussion. First he said chips and salsa. Well, unfortunately, the waitress was standing at the table when he said that, and as soon as he said "chips and salsa" she trotted off. I just assumed she was as exasperated by him as I was and was leaving to give him more time.
Eventually, Al decided he wanted fried pickles and fried mushrooms. Waitress came back, I placed the order and went ahead and ordered my food too. Al followed suit. While we're sitting there waiting for the apps, his critique began: "The floors are awfully dirty in here. Why can't they sweep?" "Look at the light fixture. That really needs to be cleaned." "Why aren't there more napkins on the table?" "This table cloth is sticky." "My silverware looks dirty." "The booths in here look like something from the Brady Bunch and what's up w/the strands of colored Christmas lights on the walls?" I finally told him he was in a bar and if he wanted some place clean, he shouldn't have chosen New Orleans as a place to live.
He was pretty loaded by this time so he turned the conversation to the Jews, Greeks, and Blacks. OK.....CHAPPY DONE! I sat there at the table looking at my neighbor thinking "My God when will this be over?!?!?" Around that time, the waitress brought out some chips and salsa. I asked her what it was and she said it was what he ordered.... "Ummm, okay..." We started nibbling. The man began double and triple dipping. "Hello, does proper etiquette mean ANYTHING to you?" When you barely know someone YOU DON'T DOUBLE DIP! I sat amazed, but it gets better, or worse, depending on how you're viewing the situation.
The waitress then brought out the fried pickles and the fried mushrooms, which would have been fine, if we hadn't already ordered wings and fries too! Ziggy Piggy! Al gobbled up the mushrooms amidst more complaining and a slew of offensive comments. The wings finally came and I just tried to get through them as fast as I could. Much to my surprise, the night got worse. As I was sucking down wings and chugging my beer, my neighbor, Al, does something so grotesque I was w/out speech..... The man blew his nose at the table. He proceeded to do this several times throughout what was left of the meal. And that was it for me.....CHECK!
The waitress brought the bill, just as Al wanted to toast to our first date. I rarely hold my tongue for anyone, so I pointedly told him this was NOT a date, and reached for the check. He asked why I didn't think it was a date, and as old school and cliche as this is going to sound, my response was "You're not paying. It's not a date." The bill, with THREE appetizers was $50 so he handed me a $20. I handed the book back to the waitress and asked her to process w/due haste.
On the way home, Al wanted to stop off at a new bar that's just opened up down the street from me, The Rum House. I, of course, said no, and drove us home. As I walked to my door, keys ALREADY in hand, he said we should definitely do this again. My response was a simple "no". He of course pushed for a more elaborate response, to which I replied "I have never, in my life, been at a table w/someone who complains about every little thing. You didn't stop complaining for one second and you couldn't make your mind up about ANYTHING!" Al was, thankfully, too drunk by this point to really comprehend what I was telling him, so I don't think I hurt his feelings....much.
Seriously, if the above is what awaits me in the dating pool, please, everyone, refrain from trying to set me up-ever.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Come here, my pretty. You shall be my dinner!
When my my friend Shaun invited me to go crabbing for the first time, I jumped at the opportunity. I love crabmeat; who wouldn't love catching the little buggers? It wasn't of course until after I said "yes" that she told me I'd need to meet up with them at 6am that I hesitated. "Aaaallllright. I'll be there." I don't think I even went to bed that Friday night, just dozed on the couch until Shaun called around 5am. Quick brush of the teeth, wash of the face, and change of the clothes, and I was out the door.
I met Shaun, Curtis, and the kids down by the Spillway at some kind of nature park thing the schools sometimes bring the kids to. This was early June, and by 6am, it was already at 85% humidity and the day was just warming up. The heat index reached 110 that day, if I recall. Shaun's kids are already pros at this-at 8 and 13 years old! Here they are trying to teach clumsy, uncoordinated, accident-prone Miss Jackie how to crab.....it really is a shame there aren't pictures to go along w/this story.
We crabbed off this peninsula for, I don't know, maybe an hour and a half. We caught perhaps 4 crabs. The water was simply too shallow and as soon as you pulled the crab up, they saw you, realized the jig was up, and took off!
After a rather unsuccessful time, Curtis took us to someplace underneath the freeway off Hwy 51. Now, I'm not exceptionally keen on eating anything that's been exposed to chemicals and highway water runoff, so I was a bit concerned. Other people were there, though, and when I said something, Shaun's husband just laughed at me: crabs are bottom feeders anyway, so what should it matter if oil and petroleum products have passed through their lungs?
It wasn't until we got to this location that we started pulling in the crabs left and right! Seemed like every time we dropped a chicken neck down, a crab was taking off w/it! (Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that part: you crab w/chicken necks tied to strings and slowly pull the crabs into waiting nets-kinda dirty, but a whole lotta fun!). We ended up catching 5 or 6 dozen total.
After cleaning up and resting (we were all exhausted from getting up so early and being out in the heat so long), Curtis got to boiling the crabs. Aside from being a complete pain to crack and eat, those crabs were the tastiest things I've ever eaten (mmmm....petroleum flavored crabmeat ----j/k)!
I've never had an experience like my first crabbing adventure. I've gone fishing plenty of times, but I simply pulled the fish from the water and dropped it into a bucket. When you've never done everything from start to finish, it's very surreal: to take a living creature out of its environment, cook it 6 hours later, and eat it shortly thereafter.....there's something primordial about it.
Wrapped up in the moment on the dock off Hwy 51, wanting to recognize the price that was being paid, I said a small "thanks" to Mr. Crab, the little pokey creature that gave it's life so that I might have tasty crabcakes.
I met Shaun, Curtis, and the kids down by the Spillway at some kind of nature park thing the schools sometimes bring the kids to. This was early June, and by 6am, it was already at 85% humidity and the day was just warming up. The heat index reached 110 that day, if I recall. Shaun's kids are already pros at this-at 8 and 13 years old! Here they are trying to teach clumsy, uncoordinated, accident-prone Miss Jackie how to crab.....it really is a shame there aren't pictures to go along w/this story.
We crabbed off this peninsula for, I don't know, maybe an hour and a half. We caught perhaps 4 crabs. The water was simply too shallow and as soon as you pulled the crab up, they saw you, realized the jig was up, and took off!
After a rather unsuccessful time, Curtis took us to someplace underneath the freeway off Hwy 51. Now, I'm not exceptionally keen on eating anything that's been exposed to chemicals and highway water runoff, so I was a bit concerned. Other people were there, though, and when I said something, Shaun's husband just laughed at me: crabs are bottom feeders anyway, so what should it matter if oil and petroleum products have passed through their lungs?
It wasn't until we got to this location that we started pulling in the crabs left and right! Seemed like every time we dropped a chicken neck down, a crab was taking off w/it! (Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that part: you crab w/chicken necks tied to strings and slowly pull the crabs into waiting nets-kinda dirty, but a whole lotta fun!). We ended up catching 5 or 6 dozen total.
After cleaning up and resting (we were all exhausted from getting up so early and being out in the heat so long), Curtis got to boiling the crabs. Aside from being a complete pain to crack and eat, those crabs were the tastiest things I've ever eaten (mmmm....petroleum flavored crabmeat ----j/k)!
I've never had an experience like my first crabbing adventure. I've gone fishing plenty of times, but I simply pulled the fish from the water and dropped it into a bucket. When you've never done everything from start to finish, it's very surreal: to take a living creature out of its environment, cook it 6 hours later, and eat it shortly thereafter.....there's something primordial about it.
Wrapped up in the moment on the dock off Hwy 51, wanting to recognize the price that was being paid, I said a small "thanks" to Mr. Crab, the little pokey creature that gave it's life so that I might have tasty crabcakes.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Rainbow Flag Brigade
The end of May brought Memorial Day. Since I hadn't seen a very good friend (w/the exception of my last business trip to Atlanta in April), we decided to spend the long holiday weekend in Pensacola Beach. Neither Audrey (my friend) nor I had been to Pensacola before, so we thought it would be an exciting trip.
My job was to make the hotel arrangements. After scouring the Internet for hours, I finally found a site that would allow me to book the reservation and NOT have to pay for the entire stay up front (we were splitting the cost of the room). The Bay Beach Inn looked to be clean and comfortable and was certainly affordable. I booked the room and hoped the place was as pleasant in reality as it appeared online.
To know AJ is to love her, and to love her means you love that she procrastinates about almost everything. Bearing that in mind, and knowing Pensacola is less than a 3 hour drive from my house, I figured I could leave around 1 and we'd arrive at the same time. People never cease to amaze me, though, and by the time I'd left the house, Audrey was already in Pensacola. No problem; she'd go ahead and get the room, rest up some, and we'd be ready to party that night.
About 30 minutes went by with no call from Audrey, so I assumed she was in the room resting and relaxing. I should have known, of course, that nothing in my life can EVER be so simple. I eventually got a call from my very stressed out friend telling me the hotel didn't have our reservation and that they were booked solid through the weekend. AJ went on to tell me that the hotel THOUGHT they might still be able to accommodate us, though. Ok, great, crisis averted. The hotel gave Audrey a key and told her to go up to a room. Thinking, as any normal person would, that the hotel clerk was sending her to an available room, AJ opened the door, and walked in to find the room occupado!
Quick trip down to the front desk, again another key was given. AJ walked to the next room-same DAMN thing-someone was already in the room! The third time must have been the charm, for although she walked into an empty room, it wasn't the room either of us thought we'd be getting. I booked a room w/a balcony, but there was no balcony to be had.
Audrey conveyd all this to me on the phone and said she was just going to rest after driving for 8 hours and let me deal w/it when I got there. That was fine by me-I have no problem arguing anyone. Before I get off the phone, AJ said there was something else neither of us had anticipated for our vacation: It was Gay Pride Weekend.....I laughed and told her I'd see her in a couple of hours.
All-in-all, it only took me 3 hours to get to Pensacola from NOLA. As soon as I'd arrived, I called AJ from the parking lot to let her know I was there and began to walk toward the room. You must know that I have no problem w/gay folks, straight folks, tran folks, or any variation in between; everybody deserves to be happy in this world and whatever makes you happy, I want for you. That being said, had I known ahead of time what I'd be walking into, I'd have dressed a little differently. A golfer cap, layered tank, ripped jeans, flip flops and coral jewelry didn't exactly scream heterosexual. Nevertheless, I smiled and laughed to myself as several other hotel patrons checked me out while walking to the room.
Dealing with the hotel staff was pointless. They informed me they didn't use hotels.com to book reservations so it didn't matter if I'd booked the room ahead of time or not. After several back and forths, we opted to stay in the one available room they'd put us in. Saturday night we attempted to socialize at the hotel and have drinks in their "club", ummmm....no. They served us hunch punch and played the most wretched music.
As if Audrey and I didn't already look like a couple, the NBA playoffs were on and Audrey is a huge basketball fan. So, w/nothing else to do and no men to flirt with, we took to watching the tv in the bar. I loathe all things basketball, so I was people watching more than anything. I will say, as far as my first Gay Pride Weekend experience was concerned, the Pensacola event seemed to have a very large, diverse showing. The organizers should be proud.
While watching tv, this incredibly drunk, and rather disheveled looking, man came up to us and was trying (emphasis on TRYING) to seduce Audrey. He was doing a little dance and even tried to drop it down. Of course, when he dropped, he couldn't get back up, but ya had to give him pointers for trying! I know I was supposed to be Audrey's wing-woman but I was laughing SO hard at this ridiculous man, I think a little pee came out! We've all made fools of ourselves when drinking, but this was something new for the record books!
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. The weather was horrible except for one day and that one day was spent at the beach, which was fabulous-HUGE waves, cool water, porcelain colored sand, light breeze. It really was a shame the whole trip didn't afford us such glorious weather. All-in-all, Pensacola was a bit too family oriented for Audrey and I, but we both enjoyed the chance to see each other and relax away from the office for a few days.
I didn't get any pictures from the trip to Pensacola, because there really wasn't anything to take photos of except a whole lotta rainbow flags, our less than desirable accommodations, and poor weather, but here's a photo of AJ and I from last year.
My job was to make the hotel arrangements. After scouring the Internet for hours, I finally found a site that would allow me to book the reservation and NOT have to pay for the entire stay up front (we were splitting the cost of the room). The Bay Beach Inn looked to be clean and comfortable and was certainly affordable. I booked the room and hoped the place was as pleasant in reality as it appeared online.
To know AJ is to love her, and to love her means you love that she procrastinates about almost everything. Bearing that in mind, and knowing Pensacola is less than a 3 hour drive from my house, I figured I could leave around 1 and we'd arrive at the same time. People never cease to amaze me, though, and by the time I'd left the house, Audrey was already in Pensacola. No problem; she'd go ahead and get the room, rest up some, and we'd be ready to party that night.
About 30 minutes went by with no call from Audrey, so I assumed she was in the room resting and relaxing. I should have known, of course, that nothing in my life can EVER be so simple. I eventually got a call from my very stressed out friend telling me the hotel didn't have our reservation and that they were booked solid through the weekend. AJ went on to tell me that the hotel THOUGHT they might still be able to accommodate us, though. Ok, great, crisis averted. The hotel gave Audrey a key and told her to go up to a room. Thinking, as any normal person would, that the hotel clerk was sending her to an available room, AJ opened the door, and walked in to find the room occupado!
Quick trip down to the front desk, again another key was given. AJ walked to the next room-same DAMN thing-someone was already in the room! The third time must have been the charm, for although she walked into an empty room, it wasn't the room either of us thought we'd be getting. I booked a room w/a balcony, but there was no balcony to be had.
Audrey conveyd all this to me on the phone and said she was just going to rest after driving for 8 hours and let me deal w/it when I got there. That was fine by me-I have no problem arguing anyone. Before I get off the phone, AJ said there was something else neither of us had anticipated for our vacation: It was Gay Pride Weekend.....I laughed and told her I'd see her in a couple of hours.
All-in-all, it only took me 3 hours to get to Pensacola from NOLA. As soon as I'd arrived, I called AJ from the parking lot to let her know I was there and began to walk toward the room. You must know that I have no problem w/gay folks, straight folks, tran folks, or any variation in between; everybody deserves to be happy in this world and whatever makes you happy, I want for you. That being said, had I known ahead of time what I'd be walking into, I'd have dressed a little differently. A golfer cap, layered tank, ripped jeans, flip flops and coral jewelry didn't exactly scream heterosexual. Nevertheless, I smiled and laughed to myself as several other hotel patrons checked me out while walking to the room.
Dealing with the hotel staff was pointless. They informed me they didn't use hotels.com to book reservations so it didn't matter if I'd booked the room ahead of time or not. After several back and forths, we opted to stay in the one available room they'd put us in. Saturday night we attempted to socialize at the hotel and have drinks in their "club", ummmm....no. They served us hunch punch and played the most wretched music.
As if Audrey and I didn't already look like a couple, the NBA playoffs were on and Audrey is a huge basketball fan. So, w/nothing else to do and no men to flirt with, we took to watching the tv in the bar. I loathe all things basketball, so I was people watching more than anything. I will say, as far as my first Gay Pride Weekend experience was concerned, the Pensacola event seemed to have a very large, diverse showing. The organizers should be proud.
While watching tv, this incredibly drunk, and rather disheveled looking, man came up to us and was trying (emphasis on TRYING) to seduce Audrey. He was doing a little dance and even tried to drop it down. Of course, when he dropped, he couldn't get back up, but ya had to give him pointers for trying! I know I was supposed to be Audrey's wing-woman but I was laughing SO hard at this ridiculous man, I think a little pee came out! We've all made fools of ourselves when drinking, but this was something new for the record books!
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. The weather was horrible except for one day and that one day was spent at the beach, which was fabulous-HUGE waves, cool water, porcelain colored sand, light breeze. It really was a shame the whole trip didn't afford us such glorious weather. All-in-all, Pensacola was a bit too family oriented for Audrey and I, but we both enjoyed the chance to see each other and relax away from the office for a few days.
I didn't get any pictures from the trip to Pensacola, because there really wasn't anything to take photos of except a whole lotta rainbow flags, our less than desirable accommodations, and poor weather, but here's a photo of AJ and I from last year.
Friday, August 7, 2009
My Beautiful Bouncer
The second night Amy and I were down in the Quarter at the end of April, I met someone. Not one of the countless strangers and tourists I've met thus far; I met a LOCAL.
This local was the bouncer at one of the bars Ames and I checked out before we settled in again at the Famous Door (I wanna say it was the B Street Club, but honestly, they all run together after awhile). As Amy and I were walking by that fateful night, he asked us if we wanted to go up to the balcony. A innocent enough question and since Amy had never done the balcony thing, I said sure! We walked through the bar, up the staircase to the second floor and out onto the balcony. Amy and I tossed beads at folks and I showed her what I learned during Mardi Gras (which did NOT include raising your shirt!)......we had a good time.
When throwing beads got boring, we opted to leave. While she was using the bathroom upstairs, the bouncer came back up. I engaged him in some conversation, found out that he is active duty Coast Guard, originally from Florida, and he lives right down the street from my apartment. Amy came back out around that time, and we left.
Amy's visit ended the next day, but all the while, I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I met when she was here. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm nothing if not incredibly direct-I always go after what I want and I usually don't make any apologies along the way. After one weekend of rest, I decided that I was gonna go BACK down to the Quarter, find this bouncer, and get to know him a little more-CARPE DIEM!
That Saturday in May, after catching a cab to the Quarter, I walked into the bar, a little disappointed that I didn't see the bouncer at the door. I proceeded straight around the musician and up the stairs to the second floor. Much to my surprise, the bouncer was sitting at the bar on the top floor, having a drink! I ordered a drink, made some eye contact and smiled, and walked out to the balcony to people watch. After awhile, I came back in and sat down and struck up a conversation. He remembered me as soon as we started talking.
His name is Casey. He lives around the corner from me on Felicity, w/his cousin and his cousin's boyfriend (who also works at the bar). His parents, like so many, are divorced and he has a younger sister in college in North Carolina-she plays volleyball, I think. Casey is in the Coast Guard, looks dashing in his uniform (God Bless the man who invented camera and internet phones), and was a swimmer in school (which has now caused shoulder problems for him). He loves monkeys and motorcycles and owns a "rice burner" (don't ask me what that expression means, and if it's offensive in any capacity to anyone who might be reading this, you have my sincere apologies).
Aside from all the fascinating things I learned about Casey, his life, and how he got to this point, you must know he is, by far and away, the prettiest guy I have ever seen up close! I'm not using "pretty" to imply effeminate; Casey was, and is, stunning. At 6'4" 260lbs (I think....maybe it was 240-can't remember), the man is huge! He has hair that's such a dark chestnut, it's almost black, with eyes the color of the ocean sky after a storm-before the front moves through. He has insanely long, dark lashes, oh, and he's 23.....
Casey wasn't working that Saturday night I went back up to the bar solo-he just happened to be hanging out. While my interlude with him was relatively brief in relation to this vast spectrum that we call life, I continue to look back fondly upon the time I spent with Casey. I honestly believe you learn something from every person who's path you cross in life; what you do with that lesson is up to you. From Casey, I learned that I deserve something exciting and thrilling and beautiful in this world that makes me smile. I continue to carry that lesson with me to this day, and I know it will remain with me always.
This local was the bouncer at one of the bars Ames and I checked out before we settled in again at the Famous Door (I wanna say it was the B Street Club, but honestly, they all run together after awhile). As Amy and I were walking by that fateful night, he asked us if we wanted to go up to the balcony. A innocent enough question and since Amy had never done the balcony thing, I said sure! We walked through the bar, up the staircase to the second floor and out onto the balcony. Amy and I tossed beads at folks and I showed her what I learned during Mardi Gras (which did NOT include raising your shirt!)......we had a good time.
When throwing beads got boring, we opted to leave. While she was using the bathroom upstairs, the bouncer came back up. I engaged him in some conversation, found out that he is active duty Coast Guard, originally from Florida, and he lives right down the street from my apartment. Amy came back out around that time, and we left.
Amy's visit ended the next day, but all the while, I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I met when she was here. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm nothing if not incredibly direct-I always go after what I want and I usually don't make any apologies along the way. After one weekend of rest, I decided that I was gonna go BACK down to the Quarter, find this bouncer, and get to know him a little more-CARPE DIEM!
That Saturday in May, after catching a cab to the Quarter, I walked into the bar, a little disappointed that I didn't see the bouncer at the door. I proceeded straight around the musician and up the stairs to the second floor. Much to my surprise, the bouncer was sitting at the bar on the top floor, having a drink! I ordered a drink, made some eye contact and smiled, and walked out to the balcony to people watch. After awhile, I came back in and sat down and struck up a conversation. He remembered me as soon as we started talking.
His name is Casey. He lives around the corner from me on Felicity, w/his cousin and his cousin's boyfriend (who also works at the bar). His parents, like so many, are divorced and he has a younger sister in college in North Carolina-she plays volleyball, I think. Casey is in the Coast Guard, looks dashing in his uniform (God Bless the man who invented camera and internet phones), and was a swimmer in school (which has now caused shoulder problems for him). He loves monkeys and motorcycles and owns a "rice burner" (don't ask me what that expression means, and if it's offensive in any capacity to anyone who might be reading this, you have my sincere apologies).
Aside from all the fascinating things I learned about Casey, his life, and how he got to this point, you must know he is, by far and away, the prettiest guy I have ever seen up close! I'm not using "pretty" to imply effeminate; Casey was, and is, stunning. At 6'4" 260lbs (I think....maybe it was 240-can't remember), the man is huge! He has hair that's such a dark chestnut, it's almost black, with eyes the color of the ocean sky after a storm-before the front moves through. He has insanely long, dark lashes, oh, and he's 23.....
Casey wasn't working that Saturday night I went back up to the bar solo-he just happened to be hanging out. While my interlude with him was relatively brief in relation to this vast spectrum that we call life, I continue to look back fondly upon the time I spent with Casey. I honestly believe you learn something from every person who's path you cross in life; what you do with that lesson is up to you. From Casey, I learned that I deserve something exciting and thrilling and beautiful in this world that makes me smile. I continue to carry that lesson with me to this day, and I know it will remain with me always.
Welcome to Jazz Fest!
So, we're now up to April 2009 in my back-dated posts. April brought (aside from the taxes I haven't yet finished) one of my nearest and dearest friends for a visit. FINALLY I got someone to come out and see me in the Big Easy! Jazz Fest made a perfect excuse to get a visitor! This will be a VERY long post, so be forewarned. It covers the whole whole visit......
Amy was a sight for sore eyes. I don't think anyone can realize exactly how much you miss the people you love until you up and leave 'em all and are separated for several months. After being late to the airport because of traffic, I met up w/Ames at the curb of Louis Armstrong International around 9:30am, loaded her 60lb suitcase into the car, and we were off.
On our way back to my apartment, I HAD to stop at Maurice's Bakery in Metairie for a keuglehoff. A keuglehoff is a cake, made in a bundt pan, kinda similar to angle food, but much more moist, a completely different texture, and infinitely sweeter. Maurice's makes every flavor of keuglehoff you can imagine, but on this occasion, chocolate chip was our poison. Mmmmm....chocolate.
After Maurice's, I drove down Carrollton to the famous Camellia Grill. The atmosphere is, hhmmmm, unique (think Waffle House w/out the booths), and the food is superb, w/omelets that stretch from one end of the plate to the next. Since it was still brunch, Amy and I each had an omelet, and by the time we got done and we got back to the house (after a dash to the store for booze), we were both ready for a nap!
Naps were had and then it was time to party! 2 hours of showering & grooming later, and we were off to Dickie Brennan's Steak House down in the Quarter. We ordered a "barbecue shrimp" appetizer along w/steaks, some sides to share, and salads. I think Ames was a little leery of ordering the barbecue shrimp, but we did anyway and I just smiled to myself. I knew she was leery because, for most of the rest of the world, "barbecue" implies a thick, tomato and molasses based sauce usually poured over chicken or ribs. That's not the case in New Orleans. Here, the term "barbecue shrimp" means "shrimp cooked in butter, Worcestershire sauce, LOTS of garlic, and spices." The shrimp are usually cooked w/the heads and shells on, and when they're cooked correctly, are some of the best things you'll EVER put in your mouth!
When they brought the appetizer out, Amy gave me this look like "what in the sam-hill is this?!?!?" I'm sure that look mostly had to do w/the fact that they served the shrimp w/the heads and whiskers looking up and out at you, but the expression was nonetheless, priceless. The food at Dickie Brennan's, although pricey, was phenomenal. She and I both were so full afterward that I wasn't sure whether we'd enjoy the Quarter that night....silly me!
Once dinner was over, we ventured out into the night. Frivolity was rampant and the Quarter was hopping, even on a Thursday night. We stopped at the Famous Door and that is where we stayed until around 3AM. I'll get into my love for all things at the FD in later posts, but let me just say, I've never had such a good time. Even if I look like a tourist every, single, time I go down there, I will NOT care. The guys in the house band have SO much energy and charisma that one cannot help but party like a rock star (for lack of a more descriptive phrase).
Friday was spent napping (you have to build up to the lifestyle down here w/drinking and partying all night and then getting back up after only a few hours sleep) and shopping at the mall.
Saturday was Jazz Fest! I'm told that it almost always rains during JF, but when we went, it was hotter than the sun. W/no place to escape from the heat, you can quickly reach critical status if you don't stay hydrated. We sat through Ivan Neville and the Dumpstafunk, and I'm sure got a contact high from all the folks blazin' up around us. The food was okay, but honestly, I was a bit disappointed. In addition to daiquiris, beer, and water, Ames had a shrimp po-boy, some strawberry lemonade, and shrimp taquitos (I think), while I had some fried boudin balls and crawfish monica. The only act I REALLY wanted to see was James Taylor and we could get absolutely NOWHERE near the stage. We couldn't even get close to the jumbo-tron. We ended up getting James Taylor coming at us from the front, and Erykah Badu coming at us from the back, and that was just wrong.
Once James Taylor's set was over, that was it for the day, so we left among a throng of people. Trying to get a cab would have taken at least two hours, so we started walking down Esplanade. Thank God for GPS on Amy's phone! We finally got to a gas station on a corner and took a rest, all the while I was frantically calling and trying to reach Omar the cabbie (who has taken quite a shine to me, but that's another story for MUCH later). There were some cops in the parking lot and one of them jokingly asked me if I had a license to use the phone. My response, albeit a bit paraphrased here, went something like this: "Well, officer, now that you mention it, I don't. BUT, my friend and I could REALLY use a ride. I'm new in town, my friend is visiting for Jazz Fest and we can't get a cab. I don't suppose you could drop us off Uptown, could you? We'll even ride in the back!" ......You're shocked, I know. Don't be.
The officer thought about my proposal for a couple of seconds, and then declined, but it was right about then that I was able to reach Omar. We had to split a cab w/4 other people, Amy and I in the front seat. The folks we shared the cab w/said something about Omar telling them that his "girlfriend" was getting in the cab.....ummmm, no. Amy and I were so thankful to get a ride home, though, that I let the comment slide w/out checking him.
Saturday night, more partying. Once we got home, we showered, dressed, dined and headed back down to the Quarter. We checked out a few other places (one of which lead to my meeting Casey....), but, ultimately, we ended up back at the Famous Door. We closed down Bourbon Street that night, my friends, and ended up back at the house around 5:00-5:3030ish. Amy's flight left around 6pm, and when I dropped her off at the terminal, I said goodbye to my dear, hungover friend, and closed the chapter on another adventure in the life of Chappy.
Jazz Fest, groovin out to the sweet sounds of James Taylor
Chillin w/the Dumpstafunk
Behind the stoners at the 'Funk (notice what's in the foreground...)
Munchin on some tasty grindage
More w/the 'Funk...
Ames and Me lookin like clones before we head down to the Quarter on the first night
Amy was a sight for sore eyes. I don't think anyone can realize exactly how much you miss the people you love until you up and leave 'em all and are separated for several months. After being late to the airport because of traffic, I met up w/Ames at the curb of Louis Armstrong International around 9:30am, loaded her 60lb suitcase into the car, and we were off.
On our way back to my apartment, I HAD to stop at Maurice's Bakery in Metairie for a keuglehoff. A keuglehoff is a cake, made in a bundt pan, kinda similar to angle food, but much more moist, a completely different texture, and infinitely sweeter. Maurice's makes every flavor of keuglehoff you can imagine, but on this occasion, chocolate chip was our poison. Mmmmm....chocolate.
After Maurice's, I drove down Carrollton to the famous Camellia Grill. The atmosphere is, hhmmmm, unique (think Waffle House w/out the booths), and the food is superb, w/omelets that stretch from one end of the plate to the next. Since it was still brunch, Amy and I each had an omelet, and by the time we got done and we got back to the house (after a dash to the store for booze), we were both ready for a nap!
Naps were had and then it was time to party! 2 hours of showering & grooming later, and we were off to Dickie Brennan's Steak House down in the Quarter. We ordered a "barbecue shrimp" appetizer along w/steaks, some sides to share, and salads. I think Ames was a little leery of ordering the barbecue shrimp, but we did anyway and I just smiled to myself. I knew she was leery because, for most of the rest of the world, "barbecue" implies a thick, tomato and molasses based sauce usually poured over chicken or ribs. That's not the case in New Orleans. Here, the term "barbecue shrimp" means "shrimp cooked in butter, Worcestershire sauce, LOTS of garlic, and spices." The shrimp are usually cooked w/the heads and shells on, and when they're cooked correctly, are some of the best things you'll EVER put in your mouth!
When they brought the appetizer out, Amy gave me this look like "what in the sam-hill is this?!?!?" I'm sure that look mostly had to do w/the fact that they served the shrimp w/the heads and whiskers looking up and out at you, but the expression was nonetheless, priceless. The food at Dickie Brennan's, although pricey, was phenomenal. She and I both were so full afterward that I wasn't sure whether we'd enjoy the Quarter that night....silly me!
Once dinner was over, we ventured out into the night. Frivolity was rampant and the Quarter was hopping, even on a Thursday night. We stopped at the Famous Door and that is where we stayed until around 3AM. I'll get into my love for all things at the FD in later posts, but let me just say, I've never had such a good time. Even if I look like a tourist every, single, time I go down there, I will NOT care. The guys in the house band have SO much energy and charisma that one cannot help but party like a rock star (for lack of a more descriptive phrase).
Friday was spent napping (you have to build up to the lifestyle down here w/drinking and partying all night and then getting back up after only a few hours sleep) and shopping at the mall.
Saturday was Jazz Fest! I'm told that it almost always rains during JF, but when we went, it was hotter than the sun. W/no place to escape from the heat, you can quickly reach critical status if you don't stay hydrated. We sat through Ivan Neville and the Dumpstafunk, and I'm sure got a contact high from all the folks blazin' up around us. The food was okay, but honestly, I was a bit disappointed. In addition to daiquiris, beer, and water, Ames had a shrimp po-boy, some strawberry lemonade, and shrimp taquitos (I think), while I had some fried boudin balls and crawfish monica. The only act I REALLY wanted to see was James Taylor and we could get absolutely NOWHERE near the stage. We couldn't even get close to the jumbo-tron. We ended up getting James Taylor coming at us from the front, and Erykah Badu coming at us from the back, and that was just wrong.
Once James Taylor's set was over, that was it for the day, so we left among a throng of people. Trying to get a cab would have taken at least two hours, so we started walking down Esplanade. Thank God for GPS on Amy's phone! We finally got to a gas station on a corner and took a rest, all the while I was frantically calling and trying to reach Omar the cabbie (who has taken quite a shine to me, but that's another story for MUCH later). There were some cops in the parking lot and one of them jokingly asked me if I had a license to use the phone. My response, albeit a bit paraphrased here, went something like this: "Well, officer, now that you mention it, I don't. BUT, my friend and I could REALLY use a ride. I'm new in town, my friend is visiting for Jazz Fest and we can't get a cab. I don't suppose you could drop us off Uptown, could you? We'll even ride in the back!" ......You're shocked, I know. Don't be.
The officer thought about my proposal for a couple of seconds, and then declined, but it was right about then that I was able to reach Omar. We had to split a cab w/4 other people, Amy and I in the front seat. The folks we shared the cab w/said something about Omar telling them that his "girlfriend" was getting in the cab.....ummmm, no. Amy and I were so thankful to get a ride home, though, that I let the comment slide w/out checking him.
Saturday night, more partying. Once we got home, we showered, dressed, dined and headed back down to the Quarter. We checked out a few other places (one of which lead to my meeting Casey....), but, ultimately, we ended up back at the Famous Door. We closed down Bourbon Street that night, my friends, and ended up back at the house around 5:00-5:3030ish. Amy's flight left around 6pm, and when I dropped her off at the terminal, I said goodbye to my dear, hungover friend, and closed the chapter on another adventure in the life of Chappy.
Jazz Fest, groovin out to the sweet sounds of James Taylor
Chillin w/the Dumpstafunk
Behind the stoners at the 'Funk (notice what's in the foreground...)
Munchin on some tasty grindage
More w/the 'Funk...
Ames and Me lookin like clones before we head down to the Quarter on the first night
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Kiss me, I'm Irish!
Aaaah, yes. St Patrick's Day. A day to celebrate my Irish heritage and drink beer with my brethren. I like to claim I'm 100% Irish, Lord knows I'm pale, freckled, and light-eyed enough to get away with claiming loyalty to the mother-land; when you look at Mom and her side of the family, though, you can clearly see I'm a mud-blood, and then the charade is over.
I really lucked out w/where I settled in New Orleans. The area of town that I live in, although considered Uptown, is more specifically called the Lower Garden District. The LGD abuts the Irish Channel. A block, yes, only a block I say, from my house is Parasol's-headquarters for the St Patty's Day celebration at Third and Constance Streets.
March 17, 2009, happened to be on a Tuesday. The Saturday prior to St Patrick's Day is when the parades roll. That Saturday happened to be rainy and stormy so the parade coming down Magazine, and right past my balcony, was substantially delayed. This parade was like none I'd seen before; completely disorganized, chaotic, and racy. The men, in their kilts carrying flowers, stopped to give the ladies on the street a kiss and a rose. Random strangers who felt like joining the parade just hopped in line and walked the route, drunk people just fell over in the streets and folks kept walking.....a very different experience than Mardi Gras.
Since the cops already had all of Magazine and most of Third Streets closed down, rather than get pummeled by drunks on the street, considering the perfect view I had anyway, I opted to stand out on my balcony waving and snapping pictures. In this parade, however, while they still toss the occasional bead, the people on the floats toss food! I was informed of this ahead of time so I was well prepared. They tossed cabbage (for what would a day of the Irish be w/out cabbage!) and carrots, onions, I think some of them tossed potatoes. It was a riot! I tried to get a little of everything, but only ended up w/some carrots-it takes a lot of upper body strength to hurl a cabbage from a moving float to the second story of a house! As it was, one of the girls in my office (Tracey from one of my prior Mardi Gras posts) caught 2 whole sacks of cabbage and she gave me two heads. I made the best stuffed cabbage rolls on the planet! Mmmmm...cabbage.
Third Street on the other side of Magazine remained closed the entire day and into the night. After the parades were over, my Turkish neighbor Alper came over and told me to get my shoes on-we were going down to the party at Parasol's. Out into the drizzle we headed simply to stand on a corner, getting wet, drinking beer and talking. While we were standing and talking (and Al chain smoking), I had occasion to people watch. Drunks are nothing new to me down here and frankly, I find them amusing. One guy in a kilt, w/nothing but the goods God gave him underneath, fell over 10' from me and began licking a woman's muddy toes through the thong of her flip-flop. Gag. The cops? Flirting w/all the ladies and clearly enjoying the festivities more than, in my opinion, a police officer should. I didn't hear about any acts of violence breaking out, though, and all seemed to be having a good time, so I guess that's the important part.
Once it got dark, Al suggested that we walk down the road to a couple of bars. Eh, a bar is a bar is a bar. We went, more beer, yada yada yada, got home and did laundry on Sunday.
Much to my surprise, come Tuesday, after being in the office for all of two hours, I'm asked by my co-workers as to WHY I'm at the office. "Ummmm, working?" "Leave, go home right now!" they say. I learn that the police are shutting off Third Street (which means I'll have NOWHERE to park) and 4,000 people are expected to be at Parasol's by 10am.....I, naively, thought since they had the parades on Saturday that everything was done. Silly me! If there's an excuse to drink and get out of work here in NOLA, the people will come.
I raced back home, just in time to get a decent place to park on the street, and I got inside my crib before the massive influx of people heading to Parasol's hit. There's a bar directly across the street from me too and they were wall to wall. The weather was positively immaculate that morning and afternoon, and was a great day for drinking crappy green beer from a keg!
Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
More from the Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
I really lucked out w/where I settled in New Orleans. The area of town that I live in, although considered Uptown, is more specifically called the Lower Garden District. The LGD abuts the Irish Channel. A block, yes, only a block I say, from my house is Parasol's-headquarters for the St Patty's Day celebration at Third and Constance Streets.
March 17, 2009, happened to be on a Tuesday. The Saturday prior to St Patrick's Day is when the parades roll. That Saturday happened to be rainy and stormy so the parade coming down Magazine, and right past my balcony, was substantially delayed. This parade was like none I'd seen before; completely disorganized, chaotic, and racy. The men, in their kilts carrying flowers, stopped to give the ladies on the street a kiss and a rose. Random strangers who felt like joining the parade just hopped in line and walked the route, drunk people just fell over in the streets and folks kept walking.....a very different experience than Mardi Gras.
Since the cops already had all of Magazine and most of Third Streets closed down, rather than get pummeled by drunks on the street, considering the perfect view I had anyway, I opted to stand out on my balcony waving and snapping pictures. In this parade, however, while they still toss the occasional bead, the people on the floats toss food! I was informed of this ahead of time so I was well prepared. They tossed cabbage (for what would a day of the Irish be w/out cabbage!) and carrots, onions, I think some of them tossed potatoes. It was a riot! I tried to get a little of everything, but only ended up w/some carrots-it takes a lot of upper body strength to hurl a cabbage from a moving float to the second story of a house! As it was, one of the girls in my office (Tracey from one of my prior Mardi Gras posts) caught 2 whole sacks of cabbage and she gave me two heads. I made the best stuffed cabbage rolls on the planet! Mmmmm...cabbage.
Third Street on the other side of Magazine remained closed the entire day and into the night. After the parades were over, my Turkish neighbor Alper came over and told me to get my shoes on-we were going down to the party at Parasol's. Out into the drizzle we headed simply to stand on a corner, getting wet, drinking beer and talking. While we were standing and talking (and Al chain smoking), I had occasion to people watch. Drunks are nothing new to me down here and frankly, I find them amusing. One guy in a kilt, w/nothing but the goods God gave him underneath, fell over 10' from me and began licking a woman's muddy toes through the thong of her flip-flop. Gag. The cops? Flirting w/all the ladies and clearly enjoying the festivities more than, in my opinion, a police officer should. I didn't hear about any acts of violence breaking out, though, and all seemed to be having a good time, so I guess that's the important part.
Once it got dark, Al suggested that we walk down the road to a couple of bars. Eh, a bar is a bar is a bar. We went, more beer, yada yada yada, got home and did laundry on Sunday.
Much to my surprise, come Tuesday, after being in the office for all of two hours, I'm asked by my co-workers as to WHY I'm at the office. "Ummmm, working?" "Leave, go home right now!" they say. I learn that the police are shutting off Third Street (which means I'll have NOWHERE to park) and 4,000 people are expected to be at Parasol's by 10am.....I, naively, thought since they had the parades on Saturday that everything was done. Silly me! If there's an excuse to drink and get out of work here in NOLA, the people will come.
I raced back home, just in time to get a decent place to park on the street, and I got inside my crib before the massive influx of people heading to Parasol's hit. There's a bar directly across the street from me too and they were wall to wall. The weather was positively immaculate that morning and afternoon, and was a great day for drinking crappy green beer from a keg!
Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
St Patrick's Day w/4000 people
More from the Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
I'm sorry, you want me to eat WHAT?!?!?!
So, shortly after the fun of Mardi Gras died down, a friend and business associate just happened to be turning 40. Now, you might ask "What does one who lives in Louisiana do to celebrate turning 40 at the beginning of March?" The answer to that question would be a crawfish boil!
If you don't happen to know what a crawfish is, I'm gonna let you Wikipedia that stuff 'cause I just don't have the time to explain. While you certainly CAN eat crawfish anytime of the year, they're really only fresh and soft enough to peel for a very short window in the year. After that, I'm told the water gets too hot and they bury down in the lake waters/mud.
Back to the party....I drive about an hour+ to get to the location where the party is being held (a very nice house w/a pool and well manicured yard). Since, at this point, I've only been in town for a little over three months, there are few people I know at this shindig, which really wasn't a problem for me socially, I've never had a hard time meeting new people. The problem comes later.... Thankfully, though, my friend and his wife who invited me to the Bacchus Ball were at the party.
As you would expect at a party, folks were milling about, drinking and talking. The kids were running too and fro. Merriment abounded. It was at this point that they brought the first batch of crawfish out. I'd never seen anything like it! The men carried this massive pot over to two long tables and began dumping out cooked crawfish, potatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and corn. After the food was dumped, people closed in on the table and got to work. The only thing I can equate this initial scene to is that of an animal trough, w/all animals descending upon the trough to get some tasty vitels.
Now, I try to get in there and see what this is all about, when I realize there's a problem: I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EAT THESE THINGS! I've eaten crawfish plenty, but the tails have already been peeled and are usually in a sauce or a fondue. Before me on this table were cherry red mudbugs w/full on shells and whisker-like things and eyeballs....How in the WORLD am I supposed to eat this? My salvation came from my friend and his wife who, although they laughed at me plenty, graciously showed me how to peel and eat the crawfish. I think it took me like 3 minutes just to peel the first one on my own, and during those three minutes, they must have peeled a dozen! If my friends hadn't helped, I woulda driven back to New Orleans pretty hungry that night!
The food was excellent-spicy but not so hot my lips were on fire-washed down positively perfect w/an ice cold beer! I wasn't able to get any pics of my actual first time, but I did get some of my second time at my friend Shaun's house for Mother's Day. I might add, now that I'm no longer a novice to the whole crawfish peeling experience, Shaun's husband Curtis' crawfish are the best I've ever had, and to this day, while I'll pinch a tail just fine, I am NOT sucking a head!
If you don't happen to know what a crawfish is, I'm gonna let you Wikipedia that stuff 'cause I just don't have the time to explain. While you certainly CAN eat crawfish anytime of the year, they're really only fresh and soft enough to peel for a very short window in the year. After that, I'm told the water gets too hot and they bury down in the lake waters/mud.
Back to the party....I drive about an hour+ to get to the location where the party is being held (a very nice house w/a pool and well manicured yard). Since, at this point, I've only been in town for a little over three months, there are few people I know at this shindig, which really wasn't a problem for me socially, I've never had a hard time meeting new people. The problem comes later.... Thankfully, though, my friend and his wife who invited me to the Bacchus Ball were at the party.
As you would expect at a party, folks were milling about, drinking and talking. The kids were running too and fro. Merriment abounded. It was at this point that they brought the first batch of crawfish out. I'd never seen anything like it! The men carried this massive pot over to two long tables and began dumping out cooked crawfish, potatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and corn. After the food was dumped, people closed in on the table and got to work. The only thing I can equate this initial scene to is that of an animal trough, w/all animals descending upon the trough to get some tasty vitels.
Now, I try to get in there and see what this is all about, when I realize there's a problem: I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EAT THESE THINGS! I've eaten crawfish plenty, but the tails have already been peeled and are usually in a sauce or a fondue. Before me on this table were cherry red mudbugs w/full on shells and whisker-like things and eyeballs....How in the WORLD am I supposed to eat this? My salvation came from my friend and his wife who, although they laughed at me plenty, graciously showed me how to peel and eat the crawfish. I think it took me like 3 minutes just to peel the first one on my own, and during those three minutes, they must have peeled a dozen! If my friends hadn't helped, I woulda driven back to New Orleans pretty hungry that night!
The food was excellent-spicy but not so hot my lips were on fire-washed down positively perfect w/an ice cold beer! I wasn't able to get any pics of my actual first time, but I did get some of my second time at my friend Shaun's house for Mother's Day. I might add, now that I'm no longer a novice to the whole crawfish peeling experience, Shaun's husband Curtis' crawfish are the best I've ever had, and to this day, while I'll pinch a tail just fine, I am NOT sucking a head!
I'm back in the saddle again!
It's been what? 6 months? After nonstop harassing from friends and family, I'm back BABY! The blog is up and running again thanks to my mother and brother who bought me a computer while they were in town visiting last week. THANKS GUYS!!! I'll never be able to repay your generosity!
There is so much to catch you all up on with all of my adventures over the last couple of months, from my very first crawfish boil to my first quasi-date post-divorce (yikes is about all I can say to that). Please be patient because it's gonna take some time to get everything in-you all know how incredibly verbose I can be at times! I'm told Mom and Trev loaded all the pics from my camera onto this machine already, though, so perhaps it'll go faster than I anticipate.....
HERE WE GO!!!!
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