The dresser next to my bed
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Anarchy number three
More fun with signs in the kitchen at work. This is the latest addition to the gallery:
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Here we go again
It's happening again. I hear it everywhere I go. An entire country has developed a fetish for a sport that in reality, they know or care nothing about. It's like the fucking Olympics all over again.
Really people? Soccer? You're trying to make me believe you give a flying fuck about soccer? Before June 11th, you couldn't name a single player on the American team, could you? No, you couldn't. Don't lie to me.
The last time most of these people watched a soccer game was during the last World Cup four fucking years ago. Now everyone's running around, gravely concerned about whether or not the U.S. will advance to the next round. Again, I'm really not sure how winning a soccer game makes one country superior to another, but I guess that's the world we're living in now. Nice to know we've got our priorities in order.
Although I have to admit, I can appreciate Kimi's reasons for watching. As she likes to say, basically, the World Cup is a collection of the most beautiful men on the planet running around all sweaty and delicious on TV for four weeks. I can get behind that. Today at work, when Chile and Spain were about to play, she grabbed me and positioned me in front of the TV as the camera slowly panned across the players close-up as they stood for the national anthem.
Ah. Yes. I think I'm starting to see what the fuss is all about...
Really people? Soccer? You're trying to make me believe you give a flying fuck about soccer? Before June 11th, you couldn't name a single player on the American team, could you? No, you couldn't. Don't lie to me.
The last time most of these people watched a soccer game was during the last World Cup four fucking years ago. Now everyone's running around, gravely concerned about whether or not the U.S. will advance to the next round. Again, I'm really not sure how winning a soccer game makes one country superior to another, but I guess that's the world we're living in now. Nice to know we've got our priorities in order.
Although I have to admit, I can appreciate Kimi's reasons for watching. As she likes to say, basically, the World Cup is a collection of the most beautiful men on the planet running around all sweaty and delicious on TV for four weeks. I can get behind that. Today at work, when Chile and Spain were about to play, she grabbed me and positioned me in front of the TV as the camera slowly panned across the players close-up as they stood for the national anthem.
Ah. Yes. I think I'm starting to see what the fuss is all about...
Well said... again...
I know I just posted this a few days ago. But the other night I was, uhhh, let's call it tired, and I decided to edit it for some reason and then I fucked it up even worse and then somehow I deleted it completely. How? I have no idea. Why? Because I'm an idiot, I guess. So here it is, Banksy revisited...
"1.7 billion people have no access to clean drinking water. 20 billion people live below the poverty line. Every day hundreds of people are made to feel physically sick by morons at art shows telling them how bad the world is but never actually doing anything about it. Anybody want a free glass of wine?"
~Banksy
As I said before, Banksy kicks ass, without a doubt. This is a piece he did in New Orleans a while ago, on Kerlerec and Rampart. The covered it with plexiglass to protect it from that Gray Ghost bag o'douche.
"1.7 billion people have no access to clean drinking water. 20 billion people live below the poverty line. Every day hundreds of people are made to feel physically sick by morons at art shows telling them how bad the world is but never actually doing anything about it. Anybody want a free glass of wine?"
~Banksy
As I said before, Banksy kicks ass, without a doubt. This is a piece he did in New Orleans a while ago, on Kerlerec and Rampart. The covered it with plexiglass to protect it from that Gray Ghost bag o'douche.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Unnecessary piles of paper
For a dead lady, my mother is pretty popular. See that down below? That's a coffee table damn near five feet long, covered in a month's worth of junk mail.
Cable companies, phone companies, maid services, all begging for business. Every charitable organization under the sun begging for a handout. Coupons for this. Coupons for that. All in all, a bunch of dead trees for absolutely no fucking reason. It has to stop. If she keeps getting this much garbage, there will be no room for MY mail when I move in next month.
I'm in NY this week, busy again Getting Shit Done. The doormen have been holding her mail for me while I was gone for the past month. When I got here Monday, he handed me two huge piles of crap. It's startling to see it in one big bulk like that. Day to day a piece here, two or three there, doesn't seem like that much. But try saving all that crap for a month. Seriously. See how big the pile gets.
I hate it. I truly do. I want it to stop. But I don't know what to do about it, really. Any ideas?
Cable companies, phone companies, maid services, all begging for business. Every charitable organization under the sun begging for a handout. Coupons for this. Coupons for that. All in all, a bunch of dead trees for absolutely no fucking reason. It has to stop. If she keeps getting this much garbage, there will be no room for MY mail when I move in next month.
I'm in NY this week, busy again Getting Shit Done. The doormen have been holding her mail for me while I was gone for the past month. When I got here Monday, he handed me two huge piles of crap. It's startling to see it in one big bulk like that. Day to day a piece here, two or three there, doesn't seem like that much. But try saving all that crap for a month. Seriously. See how big the pile gets.
I hate it. I truly do. I want it to stop. But I don't know what to do about it, really. Any ideas?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Thoughts on Treme
I've held back my thoughts on Treme so far, because I wanted to see the entire season before I made any judgements. The season finale was Sunday, so now I feel comfortable sharing my opinions with you. For those who haven't seen the show yet, don't worry. I won't ruin any storylines for you.
First of all, it's a great show. Well presented, extremely well written. My hat is definitely off to the writers, I can understand why everyone was so nuts for The Wire, although I still have no interest in seeing that show. I'm only interested in Treme because it's so desperately, painfully, close and personal to me.
A little too close. A little too personal.
It is, without a doubt, the most accurate portrayal of the city I love the world has ever seen It's on the same level as Confederacy of Dunces, which is quite possibly the Greatest Book of All Time.
But what's difficult for me about seeing my city and my people so accurately portrayed is that now the air is ripe for misinterpretation. People have always been sadly misinformed about New Orleans, so many people have a vision in their minds that's so far off it's depressing. It got worse after Katrina. Much worse. I had just gotten to San Francisco, and I can't tell you how many times I had to walk away because some yuppie douchebag fuck who had never even BEEN to New Orleans was telling me "facts" about my hometown and I wanted to smack the fuck out of him.
Oh, sorry. Did I just go off on a little rant there? Oops. That's not what this post is about...
Anyway, I'm afraid the same thing might happen with Treme. Now people all over the country are going think they know all about New Orleans because they watched a stupid fucking TV show a few times. They'll half understand or half remember what they saw, then run around talking shit, getting everything all misconstrued. And then they'll start talking shit to me, and I'll want to smack the fuck out of them.
I was talking about it with my father, who has been to New Orleans many times to visit me and knows the city and her people well. He said, "Man, if I had never been there, or only been once and didn't know what that place was all about, I don't know what the fuck I would think after watching that show."
"I know. They're making us look like... like..."
"Losers. They're making you guys look like a bunch of losers."
Ouch. Thanks, Dad...
It's kind of true though, I can't lie.
But fuck it. They're also making us look like a bunch of people who know how to drink, dance, enjoy life, play music, and have a good time better than anyone else on the planet. Period. And it's great seeing all the musicians I know and love so well finally getting a little recognition.
So yeah, overall, I give the show two thumbs up. It's not perfect, but nothing is. There are a few things that aren't quite right, mostly minor. My biggest qualm? That fucking street musician couple. Seriously? When have you EVER seen street musicians so well dressed and gorgeous all the time, and able to afford nice apartments in the Marigny, especially in New Orleans? I can't even afford such nice clothes, and I have a fucking JOB. Come on now, guys. I thought we were going for accuracy here...
But I forgive you. Can't wait for season two.
First of all, it's a great show. Well presented, extremely well written. My hat is definitely off to the writers, I can understand why everyone was so nuts for The Wire, although I still have no interest in seeing that show. I'm only interested in Treme because it's so desperately, painfully, close and personal to me.
A little too close. A little too personal.
It is, without a doubt, the most accurate portrayal of the city I love the world has ever seen It's on the same level as Confederacy of Dunces, which is quite possibly the Greatest Book of All Time.
But what's difficult for me about seeing my city and my people so accurately portrayed is that now the air is ripe for misinterpretation. People have always been sadly misinformed about New Orleans, so many people have a vision in their minds that's so far off it's depressing. It got worse after Katrina. Much worse. I had just gotten to San Francisco, and I can't tell you how many times I had to walk away because some yuppie douchebag fuck who had never even BEEN to New Orleans was telling me "facts" about my hometown and I wanted to smack the fuck out of him.
Oh, sorry. Did I just go off on a little rant there? Oops. That's not what this post is about...
Anyway, I'm afraid the same thing might happen with Treme. Now people all over the country are going think they know all about New Orleans because they watched a stupid fucking TV show a few times. They'll half understand or half remember what they saw, then run around talking shit, getting everything all misconstrued. And then they'll start talking shit to me, and I'll want to smack the fuck out of them.
I was talking about it with my father, who has been to New Orleans many times to visit me and knows the city and her people well. He said, "Man, if I had never been there, or only been once and didn't know what that place was all about, I don't know what the fuck I would think after watching that show."
"I know. They're making us look like... like..."
"Losers. They're making you guys look like a bunch of losers."
Ouch. Thanks, Dad...
It's kind of true though, I can't lie.
But fuck it. They're also making us look like a bunch of people who know how to drink, dance, enjoy life, play music, and have a good time better than anyone else on the planet. Period. And it's great seeing all the musicians I know and love so well finally getting a little recognition.
So yeah, overall, I give the show two thumbs up. It's not perfect, but nothing is. There are a few things that aren't quite right, mostly minor. My biggest qualm? That fucking street musician couple. Seriously? When have you EVER seen street musicians so well dressed and gorgeous all the time, and able to afford nice apartments in the Marigny, especially in New Orleans? I can't even afford such nice clothes, and I have a fucking JOB. Come on now, guys. I thought we were going for accuracy here...
But I forgive you. Can't wait for season two.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
New Orleans, Louisiana
June 13th, 2010
Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral on my birthday.
http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/
June 13th, 2010
Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral on my birthday.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
facebook sucks...
...because if it weren't for facebook, I wouldn't have had to have this conversation today:
(both of us sitting in the kitchen on our laptops)
Me: "Hey, you changed your relationship status to 'in a relationship and it's complicated'. How are we complicated? As a matter of fact, weren't we saying JUST YESTERDAY how glad we were that our relationship is so uncomplicated and drama-free? What the fuck?"
Him: "Well, it IS complicated. Your status says 'single'. If your status says 'single' and mine says 'in a relationship', you don't think that's complicated?"
Me: "What? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you serious? Besides, I AM single, technically. We're not married."
Him: "Not the point. Don't you want people to know that someone's hittin' it every night?"
Me: "I'm sure you could have found a better way to phrase that, Sweetheart. Anyway, the people who need to know that information know already. Does EVERYONE on facebook have to know EVERY tiny little detail of my personal life at every moment?"
Him: "Fine, I'll change it. What should I put? That we're in an open relationship?"
Me: "No!"
Him: "Why not? We ARE in an open relationship! We're totally open with each other! We talk about everything!"
Me: "Oh, fuck you. That's not what that means and you know it."
Him: "So you're saying that people might get the wrong idea?"
Me: "Exactly."
Him: "And you keeping your relationship status as 'single' won't give people the wrong idea about what's actually going on with your relationship status?"
Me: (long pause) "Oh, fuck you..."
He won, in the end. I changed my damned status to 'in a damned relationship'. Seriously though? Is this how it works now? Is this how relationships are defined? According to facebook status?
"Hey, what's happening with that girl you were seeing?"
"I think that's done. Last week her status said we were complicated, but now it says she's single."
I give up. I'm waving a white flag. I hereby relinquish the remaining shreds of my privacy. Anything you want to know, I'll tell you. What color are my panties right now? Black. When was the last time I took a shit? About two hours ago. Who do I secretly wish I could fuck? My boss.
Seriously. Whatever you want to know. Just check my status...
(both of us sitting in the kitchen on our laptops)
Me: "Hey, you changed your relationship status to 'in a relationship and it's complicated'. How are we complicated? As a matter of fact, weren't we saying JUST YESTERDAY how glad we were that our relationship is so uncomplicated and drama-free? What the fuck?"
Him: "Well, it IS complicated. Your status says 'single'. If your status says 'single' and mine says 'in a relationship', you don't think that's complicated?"
Me: "What? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you serious? Besides, I AM single, technically. We're not married."
Him: "Not the point. Don't you want people to know that someone's hittin' it every night?"
Me: "I'm sure you could have found a better way to phrase that, Sweetheart. Anyway, the people who need to know that information know already. Does EVERYONE on facebook have to know EVERY tiny little detail of my personal life at every moment?"
Him: "Fine, I'll change it. What should I put? That we're in an open relationship?"
Me: "No!"
Him: "Why not? We ARE in an open relationship! We're totally open with each other! We talk about everything!"
Me: "Oh, fuck you. That's not what that means and you know it."
Him: "So you're saying that people might get the wrong idea?"
Me: "Exactly."
Him: "And you keeping your relationship status as 'single' won't give people the wrong idea about what's actually going on with your relationship status?"
Me: (long pause) "Oh, fuck you..."
He won, in the end. I changed my damned status to 'in a damned relationship'. Seriously though? Is this how it works now? Is this how relationships are defined? According to facebook status?
"Hey, what's happening with that girl you were seeing?"
"I think that's done. Last week her status said we were complicated, but now it says she's single."
I give up. I'm waving a white flag. I hereby relinquish the remaining shreds of my privacy. Anything you want to know, I'll tell you. What color are my panties right now? Black. When was the last time I took a shit? About two hours ago. Who do I secretly wish I could fuck? My boss.
Seriously. Whatever you want to know. Just check my status...
Friday, June 18, 2010
Corporate art
The hotel was hosting some yearly conference for some big company. Anne and I had the dubious honor of providing them breakfast, lunch, snacks and beverage service as they sat through their God-awful, boring-ass, ridiculous meetings for the past two days. We got to watch as they tried to keep their eyes open, most likely wishing they could put them out with ice-picks. We got to run back into the kitchen, eat leftover cantaloupe, and discuss how grateful we were that we didn't have to sit through such meetings.
Some people looked like they were diligently taking notes. But when everyone got up and left and we cleared their shit away, this is mostly what we found...
Some people looked like they were diligently taking notes. But when everyone got up and left and we cleared their shit away, this is mostly what we found...
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Familiar faces
It's what I love the most about being home.
We were in the kitchen at work the other day, polishing glasses and such, when Clayton came bursting in.
"Guys. Table 35, guy in the white tux. Memorize his face. We need to take extra good care of him anytime he's in here. Big-time money, lots of influence in the city. His last name is Maselli..."
My head popped up like a piece of toast. "Maselli? Is his first name Frank?"
Clayton: "Yeah."
A huge grin spread across my face. "No shit? Frank's here? Oh, baby! I've gotta go say hi!"
So I went marching out to table 35. Clayton followed behind with a semi-worried look on his face.
By the way, if you haven't figured it out yet, Clayton is one of our dining room managers. He's a damn good one and a pleasure to work for, so it was fun watching his nervous look disappear when Frank lifted me up off the floor in a big bear hug and started covering my face with kisses.
Frank was my landlord for five years. He always said I was his favorite. I think it was true.
It was great to catch up with him, he was delighted to know that I'm back in town. It was also adorable watching Clayton trip over his tongue trying to be cool about the whole thing. Actually, to be honest, he was pretty smooth.
Frank: "This one right here? She's all right, you know. She's a good girl."
Clayton: "Absolutely, sir. That's why I hired her."
Frank: "You're lucky to have her you know! I hope you're treating her right."
Clayton: "Absolutely, sir! We are VERY lucky to have her, and we treat her the very best we possibly can."
Frank: "You'd better..."
I love my familiar faces. I love it that they love me too. It's going to be really hard to leave here next month...
We were in the kitchen at work the other day, polishing glasses and such, when Clayton came bursting in.
"Guys. Table 35, guy in the white tux. Memorize his face. We need to take extra good care of him anytime he's in here. Big-time money, lots of influence in the city. His last name is Maselli..."
My head popped up like a piece of toast. "Maselli? Is his first name Frank?"
Clayton: "Yeah."
A huge grin spread across my face. "No shit? Frank's here? Oh, baby! I've gotta go say hi!"
So I went marching out to table 35. Clayton followed behind with a semi-worried look on his face.
By the way, if you haven't figured it out yet, Clayton is one of our dining room managers. He's a damn good one and a pleasure to work for, so it was fun watching his nervous look disappear when Frank lifted me up off the floor in a big bear hug and started covering my face with kisses.
Frank was my landlord for five years. He always said I was his favorite. I think it was true.
It was great to catch up with him, he was delighted to know that I'm back in town. It was also adorable watching Clayton trip over his tongue trying to be cool about the whole thing. Actually, to be honest, he was pretty smooth.
Frank: "This one right here? She's all right, you know. She's a good girl."
Clayton: "Absolutely, sir. That's why I hired her."
Frank: "You're lucky to have her you know! I hope you're treating her right."
Clayton: "Absolutely, sir! We are VERY lucky to have her, and we treat her the very best we possibly can."
Frank: "You'd better..."
I love my familiar faces. I love it that they love me too. It's going to be really hard to leave here next month...
Monday, June 14, 2010
well said
"Moral indignation is in most cases two percent moral, forty-eight percent indignation, and fifty percent envy."
~Vittorio De Sica
~Vittorio De Sica
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Comic relief
OK, I know. I've been lecturing a lot. I'll lighten up a little, I promise. Enjoy...
Click HERE for comic relief.
One more thing before you go. Have you gotten a reusable cup for all the coffee, tea, and water you drink, that way you're not stuffing plastic bottles or styrofoam and cardboard cups into landfills and recycling bins on a daily basis? Maybe one of those fancy, insulated ones that keeps your coffee hot and your water cold? No? Please do.
Oh, come on. You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy, did you?
Click HERE for comic relief.
One more thing before you go. Have you gotten a reusable cup for all the coffee, tea, and water you drink, that way you're not stuffing plastic bottles or styrofoam and cardboard cups into landfills and recycling bins on a daily basis? Maybe one of those fancy, insulated ones that keeps your coffee hot and your water cold? No? Please do.
Oh, come on. You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy, did you?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Addendum
If you remember, when I left you in my previous post I was heading off to Jack Dempsey's to get my fill before a seventeen dollar oyster platter turned into a sixty-seven dollar oyster platter. When I arrived, this is what I saw:
Pretty depressing, and I'm not just talking about the grammatical errors. A seventeen dollar oyster platter is already a nineteen dollar oyster platter. Two dollars extra today, five in two weeks, next month, who knows. Get it while you can...
Pretty depressing, and I'm not just talking about the grammatical errors. A seventeen dollar oyster platter is already a nineteen dollar oyster platter. Two dollars extra today, five in two weeks, next month, who knows. Get it while you can...
It begins
Not the first casualty, to be sure, but a significant one. I woke up to this article today. Serious shit, people. Not good.
P&J Oyster Co. has been providing oysters to local restaurants here in New Orleans for 134 years. Well, they were. They've suspended operations as of today.
Just yesterday our chef was talking to a guy at the bar about seafood prices and availability, and how we don't really know what the long-term ramifications will be, and we're starting to see changes right now, and who knows what the fuck is going to happen. I know I have an over-active imagination, but I don't like what's going on in my head right now. Could twenty-five dollar fried oyster po-boys be on the horizon around here? The disappearance of the 25-cent oyster-on-the-halfshell happy hour?
Say it ain't so.
I beseech you once again, my friends. I know you're sick of hearing it, but fuck you. I'll keep saying it until I think you're listening. Lower your air-conditioner. Downsize a little bit. Recycle. Reduce the amount of crap you buy. Use less fuel, use less electricity. Hey, it saves you money, right? Isn't that the American way, worship of the almighty Dollar? Use your car less. Much less. I know it's a necessary evil and you need to use it sometimes, but you don't need to use your car that much. No, you don't. You have options. Yes, you do. You aren't "above" public transportation. No, you're not.
You aren't too good to walk places, either. Weren't you complaining about wanting to lose those extra five pounds? Here's your golden opportunity. Can't really walk that far, maybe your knees hurt? I can relate to that. Ride your bike. Don't have one? Get one, they don't have to cost that much. Borrow mine. Steal your sisters. It may not be as comfy as your nice, cushy private auto with the AC and all, but this can't be all that comfortable either...
That's a bird, by the way. You've seen that one already, right?
Anyway. I'll get off my soapbox and leave you alone. I've got to pedal down to Jack Dempsey's and get a huge plate of fried oysters before my bank account won't let me.
**ADDENDUM** CLICK HERE
P&J Oyster Co. has been providing oysters to local restaurants here in New Orleans for 134 years. Well, they were. They've suspended operations as of today.
Just yesterday our chef was talking to a guy at the bar about seafood prices and availability, and how we don't really know what the long-term ramifications will be, and we're starting to see changes right now, and who knows what the fuck is going to happen. I know I have an over-active imagination, but I don't like what's going on in my head right now. Could twenty-five dollar fried oyster po-boys be on the horizon around here? The disappearance of the 25-cent oyster-on-the-halfshell happy hour?
Say it ain't so.
I beseech you once again, my friends. I know you're sick of hearing it, but fuck you. I'll keep saying it until I think you're listening. Lower your air-conditioner. Downsize a little bit. Recycle. Reduce the amount of crap you buy. Use less fuel, use less electricity. Hey, it saves you money, right? Isn't that the American way, worship of the almighty Dollar? Use your car less. Much less. I know it's a necessary evil and you need to use it sometimes, but you don't need to use your car that much. No, you don't. You have options. Yes, you do. You aren't "above" public transportation. No, you're not.
You aren't too good to walk places, either. Weren't you complaining about wanting to lose those extra five pounds? Here's your golden opportunity. Can't really walk that far, maybe your knees hurt? I can relate to that. Ride your bike. Don't have one? Get one, they don't have to cost that much. Borrow mine. Steal your sisters. It may not be as comfy as your nice, cushy private auto with the AC and all, but this can't be all that comfortable either...
That's a bird, by the way. You've seen that one already, right?
Anyway. I'll get off my soapbox and leave you alone. I've got to pedal down to Jack Dempsey's and get a huge plate of fried oysters before my bank account won't let me.
**ADDENDUM** CLICK HERE
Passing the buck
It's great not being the boss. All day long I hear all kinds of stupid shit, and because I'm not the boss, it's really not my problem. I get to say, "Sorry. I just work here."
"You don't carry Heineken? Why? Why don't you carry Heineken? How can you NOT carry Heineken?"
"I don't know, baby. I just work here..."
"How much? You guys are charging THAT MUCH for a Belvedere martini? Are you SERIOUS?"
"Honey, I don't set these prices, OK? I just work here..."
"Hi! I'm Blah-Blah-Blah from So-and-So distributors and I have a bunch of garbage I would like you to taste and buy for this restaurant."
"I can't help you with all that, darlin'. I just work here..."
It's not that I'm lazy. It's just that at this particular time in my life, I really can't bring myself to care that the restaurant down the street only charges fifteen bucks for a corkage fee and you think it's ridiculous to have to pay any more than that.
I can assure you, lady, I don't give a flying fuck what the restaurant down the street, in your home-town, or on the motherfucking moon charges. We charge twenty, OK? Deal with it.
Oops. I mean, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I just work here..."
"You don't carry Heineken? Why? Why don't you carry Heineken? How can you NOT carry Heineken?"
"I don't know, baby. I just work here..."
"How much? You guys are charging THAT MUCH for a Belvedere martini? Are you SERIOUS?"
"Honey, I don't set these prices, OK? I just work here..."
"Hi! I'm Blah-Blah-Blah from So-and-So distributors and I have a bunch of garbage I would like you to taste and buy for this restaurant."
"I can't help you with all that, darlin'. I just work here..."
It's not that I'm lazy. It's just that at this particular time in my life, I really can't bring myself to care that the restaurant down the street only charges fifteen bucks for a corkage fee and you think it's ridiculous to have to pay any more than that.
I can assure you, lady, I don't give a flying fuck what the restaurant down the street, in your home-town, or on the motherfucking moon charges. We charge twenty, OK? Deal with it.
Oops. I mean, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I just work here..."
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Happy anniversary!
Exactly four months ago today, the New Orleans Saints won the Superbowl.
Yes, we're still talking about that down here. It's our first one. Ever. Forty-three fucking years. As I've said before, we'll celebrate as long as we damn well please.
More photos from that glorious, sacred night, which will forever remain legendary in New Orleans history:
Yes, that's St. Louis Cathedral flying an NFC Championship flag, and yes, that's the statue of Joan of Arc over on Decatur Street proudly displaying a Saints flag high above her head. Why, you ask? Because these are the SAINTS we're talking about, people.
WHO DAT!!
Yes, we're still talking about that down here. It's our first one. Ever. Forty-three fucking years. As I've said before, we'll celebrate as long as we damn well please.
More photos from that glorious, sacred night, which will forever remain legendary in New Orleans history:
Yes, that's St. Louis Cathedral flying an NFC Championship flag, and yes, that's the statue of Joan of Arc over on Decatur Street proudly displaying a Saints flag high above her head. Why, you ask? Because these are the SAINTS we're talking about, people.
WHO DAT!!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Broken record
Him: "What's the matter?"
Me: "It's everywhere. It's washing up on Pensacola Beach."
"You were watching the news at work all day, weren't you?"
"Look at this picture. That's a fucking bird."
"Damn..."
"I'm getting depressed."
"Try not to let it depress you. Try to let it inspire you."
"Dead sea turtles don't inspire me."
"I know. I'm sorry. What are we going to do when a hurricane comes through the Gulf?"
"Stop it. Please, stop it..."
And so the conversation continues, every day. Every morning, every night, like a broken fucking record. The same conversation, with different lines thrown in according to the News of the Day.
"That top-kill thing didn't work, now they've got some kind of cap over the fucking pipe again."
"Is it working?"
"Not really..."
What the fuck can we do? My friend is always talking about Prolonging the Inevitable, and I guess that's all we can do. Use your car less, stop running your washer and dryer for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Take two seconds to recycle your shit, stop drinking so much bottled fucking water. Thank you for reminding us, my friend.
He's also right when he says we're only fucking ourselves. You know how long the Earth has been here? In the long run, she'll shake us off like the common cold or a simple flesh wound. In the Grand Scheme of things, I doubt we'll even leave a scar.
But in the meantime, shut your damn lights off when you're not home. Prolong the Inevitable, huh people?
Me: "It's everywhere. It's washing up on Pensacola Beach."
"You were watching the news at work all day, weren't you?"
"Look at this picture. That's a fucking bird."
"Damn..."
"I'm getting depressed."
"Try not to let it depress you. Try to let it inspire you."
"Dead sea turtles don't inspire me."
"I know. I'm sorry. What are we going to do when a hurricane comes through the Gulf?"
"Stop it. Please, stop it..."
And so the conversation continues, every day. Every morning, every night, like a broken fucking record. The same conversation, with different lines thrown in according to the News of the Day.
"That top-kill thing didn't work, now they've got some kind of cap over the fucking pipe again."
"Is it working?"
"Not really..."
What the fuck can we do? My friend is always talking about Prolonging the Inevitable, and I guess that's all we can do. Use your car less, stop running your washer and dryer for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Take two seconds to recycle your shit, stop drinking so much bottled fucking water. Thank you for reminding us, my friend.
He's also right when he says we're only fucking ourselves. You know how long the Earth has been here? In the long run, she'll shake us off like the common cold or a simple flesh wound. In the Grand Scheme of things, I doubt we'll even leave a scar.
But in the meantime, shut your damn lights off when you're not home. Prolong the Inevitable, huh people?
Things I miss about San Francisco
Walking past this house almost every day. On the way to work. On the way to catch the train. On the way to Rosamunde. On the way to the store. On the way to the park. On the way to pretty much everywhere and everything. I loved the funky-ass doorway.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Alaskan afternoon
I won't be making it to Alaska this summer. I really wish I could. KKV and Ty are there right now, and the Donnellys are going on that fishing trip again. I talked to Kirsten a couple of weeks ago, and she said that Nome has been beautiful lately.
But time and money and life are getting in the way right now. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to driving the road down to Homer...
But time and money and life are getting in the way right now. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to driving the road down to Homer...
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Well said
"A man must pay the fiddler. In my case it so happened that a whole symphony orchestra often had to be subsidized."
~John Barrymore
~John Barrymore
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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