Why Do Rednecks Like This Stuff?

Ahh, rednecks. So much to love. So much to hate. And so much I don't understand.

There are a few pieces of redneck memorobilia that I just don't get. Why are these things enjoyable? Why are they must-haves? What is the purpose of these things?

Allow me to explore a few of these little tidbits of redneck life...

1. My main purpose for writing a post on this topic is the testicle-like accesories that many of these folks choose to hang from their trailer hitches.

Why? No...really...I'd love to know why. Is this a symbol of PURE MASCULINITY? Like..."I'm a man. And my truck is a man. Check out its nutsack." I mean, if that's the case, then why not go HUGE and paint a giant scrotum on your tailgate? Or put a giant weiner as a hood ornament? Many of them have already gone obnoxiously huge as far as tire size or truck volume, so what's one more obnoxious vehicular adjustment?

2. Larry the Cable Guy
I know. He has legions of fans. People love him. I just don't think he's funny. Like, at all. The jokes are all the most obvious kinda stuff you'd hear from any local redneck. His timing is terrible. I just don't get it. Now Ron White...HE is funny. I'd take Ron White over Larry the Cable Guy any day. This also goes for the phrase "Git 'Er Dun!" or however that nonsense is spelled.

3. The "other" vehicular decorations.
This is all the other stuff rednecks like to decorate their cars with. Giant decals and bumper stickers with their names and other information that no one else cares about and totally shines a spotlight on their ignorance. Like whether or not they are "Skeered." At least Bud and Sissy had license plates. I also don't think that having three-foot praying hands on your back glass means that you're a religious person. In fact, it probably means you have something to prove, and therefore, I do not trust you.

4. The clothes.
Ok, now I'm certainly not trying to be a snob here. I understand that it's hard to afford the latest fashions. I don't dress like a movie star either. But come on, man. Don't buy white boots if you plan on wearing them every day for the next several years. They don't hold up well. Also, why did redneck fashion stop at various points in the 70s and 80s? The acid wash. The airbrushed t-shirts. The tight, floral pants. Oy vey. It's too much to bear.

5. The lady beautification.
Again, this is not my domain. I'm of more of the "I don't care" philosophy, but I do know a thing or two about how to get pretty when necessary, and it doesn't involve a can of Aqua Net and back-combing my bangs. Or uncomfortably long Lee Press On Nails.

6. The art
Velvet paintings. There was obviously a first person to take a piece of velvet and say, "this is so nice and plush...I think I'll stretch it out and use it as a canvas." Who was this person? I want a name. Velvet paintings are also almost always of hilarious subjects. Like panthers and other jungle cats. They are actually so bad that, for me, they've gone back to good again. I recently saw a velvet painting of an old hillbilly drinking something moonshine-esque out of a jug, and I really, really want it. If I ever get enough money to own and decorate my own home one day, it will be filled with hilarious things of that sort. Like this gem. OMG I must have this.

My apologies to any of you reading this that may have or enjoy any of the aforementioned things. Just let me know when, and I'll get you a little something for your suffering.

TV Dorkout

I have a love affair with certain TV shows.

When it comes to televised entertainment, I don't really have a type. There's no set formula that makes a show a favorite of mine. I like lots of different kinds.

But...seriously...how much better are your favorite shows on DVD?

I'm not one of those fancy pants people with a DVR. I'm talking about DVD. The disks. The tangible pieces of plastic that you own and keep on a shelf somewhere. That's the ticket. Not some file you have on a computer somewhere. Something that your visitors can peruse like a library of you. (I feel the same way about books.) They're conversation pieces. They're things you feel like you actually own because you can touch them. They don't live in a mystery ghost world of backslashes and code and numbers.

Anyway...I just got Lost season 4 on DVD. That's where I left off and never recovered. I got about halfway through season 4, then life happened and I missed a couple of consecutive episodes. Due to the fact that my job was my only real access to the Internets, it's not like I could watch the missed episodes online. I gave up. I forfeited. I waved the white flag to rabid Lostmania. And I didn't really have to deal with it too much because (for some reason) people weren't really talking about it for a while. It stopped being a major part of my life (I know that seriously sounds like the most losery thing you've ever heard, but if you think that's losery, you haven't been properly acquainted with Lost. There's serious emotional investment involved. Serious, traumatic shit that often feels personal - like it's happening to your family or something.)

But BOY OH BOY have people been talking about it lately. You've probably heard that it was just the big series finale. The last Lost EVAR! So I've had to try to avoid internet spoilers and friends' conversations and everything. So...I got tired of that and decided to pick up where I left off with it.

It's how I've watched the other episodes of Lost. I spend one smelly, greasy weekend sitting on my couch or in bed and doing nothing - no bathing, no chores, not even accepting phone calls...just Losting. It's easy to do. For Season 2, I literally watched the entire season, back-to-back episodes for like 20-something hours - over a full day. You can't stop. Even if you're tired, the show gets you so amped because there's ALWAYS something crazy happening that shocks the hell out of you.

It's ridiculous...I don't know if I'd recommend for anyone who has problems with addiction.

But yeah. I ordered my season 4, and it arrived yesterday (along with my new Sookie Stackhouse book, which I've already started reading). So now I've got some catching up to do. I'll have family in town for Memorial Day week(end), so as soon as the kiddies go to bed...late night Losting. And I won't stop until I catch up. Which reminds me....I'll need to order season 5 very, very soon.

Simon the Package

For any of you who don’t know me super well – I do most of my shopping online. When buying clothing online, I stick to places where I know my size. For everything else, it’s just so much easier.

You don’t have to talk to people. Some days, I really just don’t want to have to speak to a single person besides those I’ve chosen to have to speak to on a daily basis (even then…I don’t always want to talk to them either). Some days I want to read and watch TV and hang out outside and not utter a single word to anyone…not have to hear anyone’s bitching and whining, not have to engage in all those pre-mapped and unnecessary conversations.

“Hey…how are you?” “Good, how ‘bout yourself?” “Fine. How’s ____?” “_____ is doing really well.” “That’s great.” “Yeah. How’s your job?” “It’s alright. Yours?”

And it goes on like that without anyone really saying anything of any real substance. It’s generally pretty useless, right? Especially when it’s someone we see or talk with regularly. Same. Crap. All. The. Time. Which is why I like to have the occasional day of silence. It’s not because I’m training to be a monk or something. I just need an occasional break. And I’m not trying to act all high and mighty like I don’t initiate those exact same types of conversations. I do. All the time. Anything to avoid awkward silence.

Anyway, I’m getting off my intended topic for today, which is: shipping.

As a frequent online shopper, I get lots and lots of stuff shipped over to me. And let me just say that nothing makes me feel more like an excited little child than waiting to receive my recently-purchased goodies. From the moment I order something until the moment I’m holding it in my hot little hands, it feels just like Christmas - when you ask your parents a thousand times when you can open your presents. It’s a pretty good feeling, that excitement…

…just not when it lasts RIDICULOUSLY LONG! Seriously…I usually just have things shipped standard ground. It’s VERY hit or miss. Sometimes I’m shocked with how quickly I get things. Sometimes (through the technological wonder of package tracking) I find out that it’s been sitting in some warehouse in Dallas for a week and a half.

I realize all companies and government agencies that ship things are probably super efficient, and there are probably lots of variables that I’m unaware of because I don’t work there…but whenever I track a package and realize it hasn’t moved or even been scanned in several days…it sorta makes me wonder.

The poor little box…sitting in a dark corner all alone for days with no sunlight and only water and crusts of bread to survive on (just go with it). I imagine those places being like package prison. The little package (Let’s call him Simon), destined for my loving arms, is locked up for something that’s not his fault. It’s because I refused to pay eighty dollars for express shipping. So he sits, and he waits.

And I sit, and I wait.

Seriously, I understand that they’re probably delivering much more important things than my stupid new Sookie Stackhouse book. I realize they’re under lots of stress. I know Simon isn’t really sitting in there all alone…he’s probably surrounded by others just like him…

But they really need to get him the hell out of Dallas. I need to know what happens between Sookie and Eric!

Poo Styles of the Rich and Famous

I had a Facebook status about this a while back, but as a connoisseur of the disgusting, I figured I should dedicate a full blog entry to this thought:

Celebritity poop.

I am seriously quite curious as to how this works for them. They're always out and about - talk shows, award shows, on the set of a movie or TV show, nightclubs, coffee shops, restaurants, shopping, etc. Yet you never hear stories of any of them totally destroying a bathroom's integrity.

I got a comment in my status entry about how you have to eat enough to have a proper shit. While this may be true, I think most famous people actually eat...but what they eat (and ... let's just say "consume") only adds fuel to my curiosity about this less-than-glamorous topic.

Let's start with the obvious - Gwyneth. On her website, she's always talking about these detoxifying, "cleansing" diets she's on. Basically, these diets entail eating stuff that makes you "shit like a pet coon" as my dad would say, in order to cleanse the colon and make you more energetic and lively. That's great and all...but seriously...if she does these cleanses so much, and probably keeps up with the legumes, bran, leafy greens and stuff. I'm just sayin' - her poops must be epic.

A lot of them are on macrobiotics and other diets like that that involve lots of "cleansing" foods. I wouldn't be able to leave my house.

Then, of course, there's the other side of the celebrity spectrum. Those on the booze and drug diet.

Let me first say that I've followed the good advice of the older, wiser people in my life and have never touched the hard stuff, nor do I ever plan to...but I've lived in a city known for rampant use of hard drugs. I've seen it....I know people that partake, and I've heard plenty of stories about what many of those hard drugs do to the bowels and digestive system, and it ain't pretty.

And even for those of us who haven't experienced that first hand - I think we've all been there after a night of boozing. I won't get too graphic...but y'all know what I mean.

Then the coffee! They are forever photographed with a freakin' latte in their hands. Once again - a main ingredient for an extra large colon jolt.

And finally, the cigarettes. I know not as many celebrities smoke now as they did in years past, especially not when they are going to be photographed, but I'm pretty sure a good number of them still smoke. And nothing kickstarts the bowels like a morning cigarette. Especially when accompanied by coffee.

So how, when you mix the "cleansing" diets, the alcohol, the drugs, the coffee and the cigarettes, are these people not walking doodoo machines? Seriously? How are they not having to #2 every single place they go?

Are there confidentiality agreements involved? "Sorry I bombed your bathroom. Sign this paper please. If you tell anyone about this, I'll see your ass in court." ????

Do they have their assistants pretend to be the offenders? "If you pretend it was you, I'll give you first dibs at the gift tent." ????

Do they leave whatever function they were attending to go to a more secure location to poop?

And don't give me the whole, "Maybe people don't care." or "Maybe people are just too sophisticated to comment on things like that," because that's malarky. We are treated to much more offensive and disgusting information about these people all the time. You're telling me we can all see a shot of Britney's hoo-ha when she gets out of a car, but a story about her dropping a deuce is just too personal and too much to bear?

We can hear Jessica Simpson talk about how she rarely brushes her teeth. We can see hundreds of these people's sex tapes (some of which involve much nastier stuff than a story about pooping in a public bathroom). We can see Fergie's crotch shot from when she allegedly pissed her pants on stage. We can see a photo of Lindsay Lohan, straw in hand, lines on mirror, when she's just missed a court date and, rather than flushing turds, is flushing her life down the toilet. We can watch Kate Gosselin do whatever the hell this is. We can watch Jon Gosselin be Jon Gosselin. And we can see pretty much all the way down into the depths of Paris Hilton's vagina canyon (if we wanted to...which I don't. Hence the lack of link).

Yet, poop stories are unheard of.

I, for one, would rather hear a funny story about a celeb makin' turds than I would see any of the above. But maybe that's just me.

Oldies but Goodies

I've recently had the good fortune to be able to see and hang out with many, many old friends that I hadn't seen in a while.

One of my besties from our pubescent phase came into town for a visit, and because of this, we've had many get-togethers and hang out sessions.

It's always interesting to see people you haven't seen in a long while. There's that initial apprehension - how have they changed? Are they still the same person I knew years ago?

When I was younger, my goal in life was to get the hell out of my small hometown and completely change myself. Meet new, interesting and fabulous people. Go to fancy parties. Become this new person who knew a lot of things and had lots of connections and was artsy and cool. Someone who needed a day planner to keep up with all of my grand social functions. Someone who never had to search for people to do things with.

Well, after being away for a little while, I realized there was nothing wrong with me to begin with. I realized most people kinda suck, and that I already had the best and most wonderful friends in my life that anyone could ever wish for. I realized I always avoided fancy shit because I can't stand it. And I realized that I like days that are completely empty so that I can do absolutely nothing but sit on my ass and watch TV. My life was already as fabulous as I needed it to be...and I may have learned a lot of stuff, but I had absolutely no reason to change...and I didn't really want to.

I don't know...does everyone go through that?

Anyway, like I said...it's interesting to see people you were close to long ago. Fortunately, in my experience, it's usually really pleasant and uplifting. I'm lucky enough that most of my old friends have adapted to life in much the same way as I have. We've gained knowledge. We've grown (both metaphorically and literally, as my ass is probably twice the size it was in high school). But, deep down, most of us are still the same people. We've grown separately of each other, but we can still relate. Still laugh at each other's jokes. Still pick up where our conversation left off so many years ago...and that conversation has just as much meaning and understanding as it did then. It seriously gets me sorta misty to think about it (shut up). Of all the things that happen to us in our lives - our real friends can last forever.

This isn't the case with everyone, obviously. Some people I see again, I have a very hard time reconnecting with. I suppose it's either because they've grown too much, or, perhaps more likely, they've stayed the same while everyone else has grown around them.

It's also always hard to say goodbye to old friends. Especially when you're terrible with goodbyes like I am. I used to cry when my sisters would leave after their weekend visits because I just wanted them to stay. I still cry a little inside every time someone has to leave. I'm that sort of person. I don't ever want those good moments to end, but, of course they inevitably have to. We've all got our separate living to do.

And hopefully, when we meet again, we'll have as much fun as we did this time.

Thank you to all of my awesome friends - old ones, new ones, and ones that are always there. I love you guys.


Ok, I know that's sorta sappy, but it's depressing Sunday and I just watched My Sister's Keeper (I know, I know), so give me a break!

And, in honor of my friends...watch my new favorite Youtube video. Joe Cocker says it all.

Feline Drama

I've never been a cat person. I like dogs. They're goofy and loyal and, even though they might be more trouble, they show more love, and it's worth it.

However, until my living situation changes, I cannot have dogs.

If it were only me, I would choose to instead not have a pet. But...David is a cat person. He loves kitties. He is a cat whisperer of sorts - he can get stray, skiddish ones to come up to him...all cats love him. It's bizarre.

I am my mother's child. I've always though cats were worthless and pretty much left them alone save for one failed cat experience in high school...which didn't end well.

So please.....everyone....humor me and allow me to make a crazy cat lady post today. Even though David is really the crazy cat lady of the two of us, but he didn't have to go to the vet with them this morning, I did. But yeah, just this one time, I promise. No more cat posts.

Anyway, when we lived in our apartment in New Orleans is when David started the cat business. He wanted a kitty. He needed a pet. So...one of the Ducat cats had some kittens that were old enough to take away from their mom when I was home one weekend, and I picked one out and brought her home with me. She was cute and tiny, but cuh-razy, so we decided to call her Couillion (Cooey for short). She's been with us a couple years now. Mostly keeps to herself. Isn't too much trouble except for the occasional hairball vomit. Does crazy stuff like pees in the toilet (and doesn't miss...if I could only get her to flush, we'd be in business). She's a cat...and she's grown on me. I kinda like having her around.

Now, as many of you know, about a week ago David decided to pick up a kitten that was walking around in the middle of the road in the S-curve in Hayes - the cat whisperer strikes again!!! I wasn't happy about it, but whatever. I did put my foot down, though. The foot has spoken. This is the last one. He is not allowed to rescue any more animals. Dogs, cats, whatever. NOT HAVING IT!

So...since HE decided to play kitty savior...I had to take today off work (that part I'm fine with) to bring them to the vet.

While at the vet, I discovered that the new kitten is a boy and not a girl as we originally thought (I'm thinking of calling him Fred. He's definitely a Fred.), and that Cooey has all of a sudden turned into the Antichrist.

She HATES the new cat. Hisses and growles these deep, dog-like growles. Gets all tense and freaked out and pissed off when the new cat is around. She's NEVER done anything like that before. Never. She's also never been bad or weird or had any trouble at the vet. So what do I do? Yay! Let's take them to the vet together!

Right after putting Cooey in her little carrier, I knew it wasn't going to be good. She was already hissing at me.

Fred went first. Got his ear mite treatment, a shot and also some flea meds. He was a trooper and gives kisses like a dog. Fred was fine.

Then it was Cooey's turn. I put her carrier up on the exam table to take her out...I could hear her hissing. So we decided to take the top off of the carrier....she started growling then. Then she swatted and bit at the vet and the assistant. Then jumped off of the table and hid in the corner of the room...growling these deep, whole-body growles and hissing when anyone would go near her. They got a towel thinking covering her face would help (?), but to no avail. The doctor kept jumping backwards in terror. Cooey kept trying to bite them and scratch with her back legs. I was freaking horrified. I'd never seen her freak out on the vet like that before.

She couldn't even get all of her vaccinations because they couldn't keep her still long enough to give her a shot. They will have to wait for that until they have her under sedation for her spay surgery next week.

So...anybody want to cat sit? hahaha

Trying not to play favorites here, because I know that will only make things worse...but I'm really liking Fred better at this point.

Anyway...again, I'm sorry about the cat post. It won't happen again. I just almost had a stroke today and needed to share.

How Did THAT Happen?

Short post about a random, odd piece of Americana....

The foam finger.

If you're a freaking dork like I am and keep yourself up at night thinking about how silly crap like this came to be...Well, I've done your work for you today, my friends.

Behold!




And just as a little bonus....

If you haven't seen this most horrifying, embarrassing display of douchebaggery, you really, really should. It's so....eeeesh. It hurts my soul, but I love it at the same time. The faces. I spent a little too long getting screencaps of the horrible faces this afternoon. It's screencap GOLD.

I always thought he'd be a big dumb goofball...but no...he's just sooo....soooo....painfully.....gross. And he thinks he's the best thing ever, too. You can tell. He's like the skeezy dude always trying to mack on chicks by showing them his tattoos. The necklace. The hair. The jacket. The saucer eyes. I just can't take it. Too much. Too sad and hilarious at the same time. I think my head is about to explode.

hahaha....it's like I just told you all, "This stinks! Here, smell it!" But in this case, you really should smell it. If for no other reason than to say that you have smelled it. And it smells like douche, leather and Rogain with a splash of bong water.

(Via Lainey Gossip)

Farts Will Always Be Hilarious

Now that I have a basically serious job in the health care realm...I'm starting to realize more and more that people are not too keen on potty humor...

I read an article recently about how "shocking" branding is becoming more popular in the health care industry. The examples in the article were some rough sketches for a gastroenterology facility that incorporated butts and toilet paper and things like that in the logo. That was considered super cutting-edge.

As a frequent crosser of the "too gross" line, I sometimes have trouble with the boundaries of what is acceptable to society when it comes to that kinda stuff...and what is not.

I get it. People don't want to be grossed out. But seriously...people should get over it. It's like the book says...Everyone Poops. Are you really that offended by something that you are a daily (hopefully...otherwise you should see Jamie Lee about her yogurt) participant in? Grab a heaping bowl of Colon Blow and read on...

There are few things in this world that are funnier than a good poop joke. My sister, who is a flippin' medical doctor, once said, "It doesn't matter who you are. Farts are funny." And damnit, she's right. Farts are funny.

I'm not sure what sort of sense of humor a poop joke-teller would be classified under. It wouldn't be a "dry" sense of humor...so......wet? (sorry.)

But seriously....it never gets old. One of my favorite examples is the Fat Bastard fart scene from Austin Powers In Goldmember. It's glorious. (For you, Duckit.)

Then there's the classic.

And this classic, too.

At this point, don't most of us think this stuff is funny? Maybe I just have a juvenile sense of humor. But I'd certainly rather my entertainment be more of the childish, doodie joke variety than the depressing.

Some examples:

I hated Atonement, Legends of the Fall (stills only, please...I can't even watch it on mute...still too depressing), Requiem for a Dream (eeesh), The English Patient, most every war movie, effing 21 Grams, Seven Pounds (sorry, Duckit), etc. etc. etc. In fact, the movies on that list are so depressing that it almost becomes comical. Like, "Oh, what now...is the pregnant young wife gonna get hit with a ricocheted bullet and die?" and then BAM! Pregnant young wife gets hit with ricocheted bullet and dies.

Life is depressing enough. I don't need movies to bring me down. And, really, I don't even mind so much if it's at least slightly balanced with funny or happy stuff. And REALLY funny or happy stuff. I'm not talking about when little girls are dancing through a field of flowers in one of those heavily-music-ified scenes where you know that's the end of the goodness and something terrible is about to happen. I'm talking about this.

That is all. Thanks for reading. Talk to y'all tomorrow. And poop on!

Gee...Thanks.

It's hard to pick out a good gift for someone. What I often do is buy the person in question something that I want and then get super mad when they aren't as excited about it as I would have been and tell myself that I should have kept it and gotten them the cheaper gift I originally had in mind. (I never express this outwardly, of course...what kind of a heartless shrew would I be if I did that?)

But seriously...gifts are super weird. At what point did it become necessary to give gifts for so many things? Christmas, birthday, graduation, retirement, new house, anniversary, wedding, baby, just "because." It's too much.

And rather than acknowledging that it's all too much, and that, if I never speak to you anymore, I probably don't want to give you a pricey gift nor do I expect one from you - we keep the gift-giving tradition alive. And some are even passive-aggressive about it. Like when people re-gift....or when they give stupid old crap that was clearly free (or darn close to it) and that has absolutely nothing to do with your personality or the occasion. Like dollar store shower gel that smells like old lady armpit. Nobody wants that shit. Nobody. I think there is a certain point where "It's the thought that counts," just isn't true. What does it say to you if I'd give you some stank ass shower gel? It either says, "I hate you and this is what you deserve." Or "I totally forgot about this, so I stopped at the dollar store on the way over here and grabbed the cheapest and first thing I saw." At that point...seriously...don't bother. Even just a card with a nice sentiment and nothing else inside is better than that crap. I would rather have nothing than mystery shower gel that's been collecting dust on a dollar store shelf for 12 years and smells like gardenias and minge.

It's also just as uncomfortable when people give really inappropriate gifts of the other end of the spectrum...too familiar...too pricey...too much.

Like, if it's someone you don't know that well...don't effing buy them clothes. I've gotten some of the most laughably bad clothing as gifts from people who barely know me at all. I won't go into specifics because I don't want to offend anyone...but unless you know someone super well (and even then, it's a stretch...unless it's a baby because they can't yet choose their own wardrobe) don't get them clothing....

And it's also just as tacky to get some lavash, extravagant gift when you don't know the person that well. If you have to look up their phone number, don't drop hundos or thous. I don't care how rich and fabulous you are. Well....maybe not. Maybe if I were rich and fabulous I would buy a bunch of ridiculously expensive stuff for people I don't really care about. I can't say what I would do...because I've never been there.

I've also recently become aware of websites that offer "Gift Ideas" for various "types" of people. These suggestions are rarely very good and also almost always suggest things that are stupid expensive. What to get the gadget guru? An iPad! At the bargain price of $800! While you're at it, get him started with several e-books! Only five bucks a piece! And make sure he's got the best photos with his new fancy pants camera...only $1,700! That's not a gift. That's a mortgage payment. That's a used car (a crappy one, but still). That's a new wardrobe.



Ok, doesn't look like the rain is going to let up anytime soon, so I'm gonna get while the gettin's good.

Do Ya Know What It Means?

In honor of my Sunday Treme watching, I figured I'd post tonight about one of my most favorite New Orleans experiences.

It wasn't long after Katrina, I had just gotten back in the city and, needless to say, everything was chaotic. People were freaked out. Everyone was saying stuff about New Orleans being a lost cause, and that there was no need to rebuild. It was pretty shitty. I had school coming up. A bunch of my friends from school and from regular life were still away...would they return? No one really knew.

It was that sort of restlessness and turmoil and depression that everyone was going through that made the bars the meeting places. Upon returning to town, my first stop was my local bar (which I will report on in more detail in a later post) to see which of my friends were back, where everyone who wasn't back was, and how everyone was doing.

It was during this time that I met one of the most wonderful, colorful characters that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting in my entire life. Mr. Walter Payton. No, not this Walter Payton. This Walter Payton.

I walked into my local haunt one evening and saw one of my best friends talking to this gentleman at the end of the bar. So, I walked on in there, had a seat next to them, ordered my usual Miller High Life, and began talking to them.

Now, I was a 21-year-old Tulane student. This guy could have brushed me off as a youngster who knew nothing in life or about the city or anything yet (it wasn't all that long ago, but I really had waaaay less knowledge of the world then than I do now...and I know I still have a lot yet to learn). But he listened to my gripes, my worries and concerns, and everything else I had to say about post-K life in New Orleans with a sympathetic and wise ear, and then he told me one of the best things I've ever heard in my life.

He said something to this effect. I don't remember direct quotes, sadly. But this is what he said:

Once you live in New Orleans...and really live here...it gets to you. It gets inside you. Something in you changes forever. And even if you move away, you'll never get that feeling out. It's the River that does that to people. The River gives makes music. It puts off a note. An F note...The note of love. Once you experience that, you will never be the same.

Then, I thought it was probably the coolest thing I've ever heard and the best reason why every New Orleanian past and present is a die-hard. Now, when I think about him saying that, it makes me want to cry because I miss that place so much. I miss the laid back. I miss the late nights of good friends and good times. I miss everything being a reason to celebrate. I miss the whole city, good and bad (and believe me, there was lots of bad, which is why I moved away).

But, the bottom line is that Mr. Payton is one of the coolest, sweetest people I have ever met. He took the time to listen to a dumbass Tulane kid, and he gave me some of the best words of wisdom that I will ever receive if I live to be 115 years old. He is a true New Orleanian (no matter where he lives) and he will beat your ass at the hand-slap game (the one where you put your hands under someone's and try to slap their hands...and vice-versa) EVERY FREAKING TIME.

If I ever see him again, I would love to give him a big hug, buy him a drink, and tell him what a huge impact he made on me...a silly white girl Tulane kid...when I was at a very low point.

Thank you, Mr. Payton!

All Byyyyy Myyyyseeeeellllf

A lot of people tend to think that being alone or doing things alone is the worst thing that could ever happen. I'm sure being alone and cooped up in the house for an extended period of time could send anyone to Crazytown [see Geezerville post again]...that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about venturing out and doing things on one's own. I do it often, and I love it.

It's been a very, very long time since it was easy to just decide on a whim to do something with my friends and then do it immediately. We're all older now. People have commitments and responsibilities. It's hard to coordinate schedules. It's hard for everyone to agree on an event. It's just not the same as being 16 or 17 and piling in the car to go see a random band or movie, or go to the mall...or do anything really. People have shit to do. Including me.

Which is why, when I have the time and the "envie" to do something, I started doing it by myself. I get to go exactly where I want to go, at exactly what time I want to go. There's no waiting, no last-minute cancellations, no negotiations, no 30 minutes of "You decide!" "No, YOU decide!" "Well I'm not deciding." "Well, I'm not either...so you're gonna have to!" AHH! (It really would have paid off for me to have more demanding, decisive friends...But then we probably wouldn't have gotten along so well...)

For me...the slowest eater on the planet...it's really nice at restaurants. I can eat my food at the pace I'm comfortable and don't have to have everyone sitting there waiting for me or watching me eat after they've finished. People seem to watch me eat anyway, though. I eat in such a slow, calculated, OCD way that it tends to be interesting for people to watch. I'm used to it by now...but it's still nice to get a break from feeling like I'm holding everyone up while I'm taking my sweet time.

And movies. Movies are nice and fun to see with other people...but I do enjoy a movie alone. It's easier to pay attention. I always get more out of movies I see alone because I'm just not as comfortable when other people are there. I don't know why. I think it might be because I'm big on seeing people's reactions. One of my favorite things to do is watch a movie that I've seen with someone who's watching it for the first time - I know that's strange...but I love to see other people's reactions to funny things. What parts do they laugh at? Etc. Yes...I'm one of those weirdos that will look at you throughout the movie. Don't judge me.

Another good thing about seeing a movie alone is that you only have to scout a seat for yourself. You don't have to coordinate bathroom times with everyone else. And also, if you have to go during the movie, you don't have to try to find the rest of your party in the dark during the best part upon your return. You can just have a seat at the first available spot. Brilliant! And, perhaps the best reason to go it alone is if you have movie buddies who can't shut their traps. It's a movie! Not an open forum. We'll talk about it later in the car if you want, but for right now...stop talking...please. Unless it's a Twilight movie, then we can laugh and mock it the entire time because everyone else in the theater has seen it 12+ times already anyway. As long as we're careful. I would hate to get knifed by the pre-teens in the parking lot.

The only thing I don't like to do by myself is shop for clothes. Clothes shopping is one of the most traumatizing, horrifying things a girl can go through (unless she's skinny and loves herself A LOT). The sizes are always jacked up...too big, too small....Why does this even come in my size if it makes anyone wearing it who is larger than a size 4 look like a sack of potatoes? Why is everything on this shirt big except for the tiny boob area? FYI, big girls typically have big boobies. Why are the arm bands cutting off my circulation on this shirt that fits otherwise? They expect girls to be HUGE with skinny arms and teensy boobies. And that is just usually not the case.

So, rather than attempt to go this alone, I like to have my besties by my side. People who understand. People who will tell me what's good and what is not, and who will be honest about it. People who will laugh with me when my jugs look obscene but my waist is swallowed in that top that we all thought would be so cute. People who will help me rummage through sale racks to find the perfect thing. And people who will cry with me when those pants make my ass look like the surface of the moon.

And then we all go get milkshakes to expand the craters in our asses. Because that's what friends do!

By the way...ice cream in any form is also always better with friends.

Random Hilarity

I didn't post yesterday because it was one of those days where I get home from work and feel like someone let all of my air out. Completely deflated and tired and blah. Incapable of making a sentence.

So, since I flaked out on you, I'm now compiling a few things that always make me laugh, and a couple of funny recent discoveries. If you've seen them already, I hope you enjoy them again. If you haven't, then I hope you love them or the first time.

• Trey Parker and Matt Stone would be so much fun to hang out with. Saw this episode of South Park for the first time last night and laughed my ass off. This was my favorite part.
• A good Ludacris song always puts me in a better mood. This reminds me of his old school stuff like "Roll Out." So funny! My favorite part is the way he says "Macy's." Cracks me up every time.
• This delightful gem of a photo.
• And this one, too.
• The shirt that my boyfriend and my best friend's hubby should each own (for fancy special occasions).
• This look. Is it tough? Should I be frightened? I say it's hilarious and he looks like he needs to take the Activia challenge. Or get with Gwyneth about her poop diets (see below).
• And the crazies who love, appreciate and obsess over that look.
• This pretentious nonsense courtesy of Madame Paltrow. It's not supposed to be funny, but it so, so is. Dawn simulator? Kale juice? Shut your snooty, rich mouth, Gwyneth! And stop telling us about your colon-cleansing poop diets!
• Coco's Tweets. I love this giant ginge and his awesomeness. Leave me alone! It's all I have left! At least until he's on TBS, for which I will have to get cable.
• Dlisted. The bestest celebrity gossip blog in the world, and the one I prefer to get all my Hollywood drama from. Michael K and I have a very similar world view and sense of humor. (Not for the squeamish or faint of heart, though.)
• Hours and hours of fun. And so educational!

Please, feel free to add your favorite internet amusements in the comments.

Oh, and I've got a running list of potential topics that I'm itching to write about. So expect some good stuff this weekend. I don't know if I'll get to post more tonight since my boy just returned from a work trip and I must have beers and hand-holding and smooches, but I will definitely be back tomorrow.

Be cool, mah babehs!