Katrina Anniversary

Nothing to say other than we're still here.

I Have Achieved Nirvana

"Nirvana," to my knowledge, is the only Indian food restaurant in all of NOLA. Fortunately, since it is the lone representation of the genre, it is also delicious. The service however, has ranged from just below openly hostile to completely indifferent. Sometimes I think they treat us like crap to test our love of Nirvana. Once 8 of us went on a Sunday afternoon for the buffet, and though there were plenty of tables they could push together, they made us wait 20 minutes until the one large table cleared out. But of course they knew we would wait.

EZ's favorite thing to get on the buffet is the rice pudding. He will always fill a soup bowl with it rather than use the small metal bowls provided, and he gets inordinately grumpy if they run out and don't refill it. He's then forced to lope around the kitchen area until he can hunt someone down to bring some more out.

And no matter when we go in there, the same 3 guys are working the room, which makes us think it is a family run and these guys are enslaved to the restaurant, which is why they are so bitter. I, however, have made it my personal quest to win them over. We always tip an insane amount and am sure to greet the waitstaff and say "thank you" for every activity, regardless of how shittily performed.

Our usual ritual is that we go on Sunday after EZ gets out of church. This past Sunday was our first trip since our return to New Orleans. And of course, the same three guys were there, but this time they greated us when we entered in a friendly manner. And most surprising of all the moment we sat down, the bald one brought me a chai, which is what I order ever time we go. I was completely stunned, and I swear I almost cried.

My Mom Sends the Worst Emails Part III

Behold, the latest, deliscious, forward from my mother.

________________________

NEW DRUGS FOR WOMEN

D A M N I T O L
Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.

E M P T Y N E S T R O G E N
Suppository that eliminates melancholy and loneliness by reminding you of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn't wait till they moved out.

ST. M O M M A'S W O R T
Plant extract that treats mom's depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to two days.

P E P T O B I M B O
Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.

D U M B E R O L
When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of country music and pickup trucks.

F L I P I T O R
Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

M E N I C I L L I N
Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, "You make me want to be a better person. "

BUYAGRA
Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.

J A C K A S S P I R I N
Relieves headache caused by a man who can't remember your birthday,
anniversary, phone number, or to lift the toilet seat.

A N T I-T A L K S I D E N T
A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to
share their life stories with total strangers in elevators.

N A G A M E N T
When administered to a boyfriend or husband, provides the same irritation level as nagging him.

Last Day at the LC/Last Day in the ATX

I am sad to say that this is my last day of my summer clerkship at what Aquaman has termed "The LC". It has seriously been the best job I have ever had. Great people (especially the other clerks KB, Aquaman, and new clerk EJ), interesting work, decent pay, low stress, and not having to supervise worthless minions who I cannot fire. Yes, a good job indeed. I am definitely sad to be leaving and returning to the demoralizing academic world. I am also sad to be leaving the ATX, what with its plethora of hippies, 24 hour restaurants, regular trash services, and relative cleanliness. It is definitely the jewel in Texas' crown. So adieu to my Texas friends, hello to my NOLA friends. I expect to see some of ya'll at Mardi Gras.

My Mom Sends the Worst Emails Part II

Here's today's gem (font color and all):

A girl from Texas and a girl from the east coast were seated side by side on an airplane.

The girl from Texas, being friendly and all, said, "So, where ya'll from?"

The east coast girl said, "From a place where they know better than to use a preposition at the end of a sentence."

The girl from Texas sat quietly for a few moments and then replied: "So, where ya'll from, bitch?"

_______________
Incidentally, I am from Texas.

In Defiance of All Odds

I would like to give a quick shout out to my parents, fondly known as the 'rents ,who today celebrate their 42nd wedding anniversary.

My parents have the greatest, meet-cute story of all time. They were high school sweethearts. Even better, they had to sit alphabetically, which meant my father end up sitting directly behind my mother in class. He used to pick up her chair on his knees and move it around during class to annoy her. [sigh] Boys.

When they were in college, my Mom went to the Women's College and my Dad went to State. He used to hitch-hike to go see her on the weekends. They married at 21, right out of college.

Since my parents have beaten the odds, I'm fairly sure sis and I are screwed.

My Mom Leaves The Best Voice Mails

My mom is known, at least in the inner family circle for her very long voice mail messages. If you do not answer, she will usually begin by informing you (despite the fact that we all have caller id)






a) Hey Laaw-yuhr/Rabbit, this is Mom.
b) I'm just calling to check on you.
c) today I did ______ and then I did _______ and then _____.
d) also, I ran into _____ and their son/daughter is doing so well in _______.

By the time she finished to voicemail, she has completely obviated the need to call her back. Nevertheless, she will be wounded if you don't call. And of course, when you do call, she will then inquire if you listened to her message. I generally give up after the first 30 seconds, and when questioned if I listened it is an internal debate as to how to answer. The best lawyerly strategy I've been able to come up with is to reply "Most of it, but then I lost the signal. Cingular sucks." Since my sister lives in a foreign country, she gets considerably more lattitude on this issue than I am afforded. My mother, upon hear this instead of recaping, will provide the long version of the voicemail. Sometimes I set the phone down and go to the bathroom. I have also found this to be prime eyebrown maintenance time.

But as La Blogda pointed out in the comments to my last entry, my mom is famous, or rather, infamous amongst my friends for one particular voice mail that she left my sister. It's circulated from my sister's friends to me and my friends and even our godparents, and is official family lore. The story is as follows:

My mom was driving and leaving my sister a voicemail in the above pattern. About 35 second into the message she suddenly shouts "Wooo! Wooo! Woooooooo! Oh-mah-gawd-yoooou-suuuuunufa-bitch!" and then hangs up.

This is especially good because:

1) my mother was always big into not cursing, which is diametrically opposed to the rest of the family.
2) my mother has an insane thick southern accent. On the rare opportunitues when she curses it's delicious, and usually involves phrases which I do not understand (e.g. "that would puke a bull-bitch on a gut wagon").

As Mom tells the story a Semi-truck -or as she likes to call 'em, a "Sixteen-wheeler"- "appeared out of nowhere" and "cut her off." I am not sure how a truck that size can materialize from nowhere. Methinks perhaps Mom had her mind on other things (e.g. leaving sis a voicemail) and missed spotting the truck. One can never be sure.

But after getting this wonderful message, my sister proceeded to forward it to many a voicemail box so that we could all share the joy.

I freely admit I should not throw stones as I leave horrible voice mail messages. I will call somebody and then if I get their voicemail completely choke and forget what I was going to say. I also do this when standing in line for movie tickets. When I get up to the counter I'll have forgotten what I am there to see (yes film friends, I know this annoys the hell out of you. Maybe I will start writing it on my hands).

I can only hope this doesn't mean I am turning into my mother.

My Mom Sends the Worst Emails

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

For every yin, a yang; for every light a darkness.

And for every haiku email my father sends, my mother counters it by sending something bizarre and unnerving -usually in the form of a heinous forward.

Behold my mother's latest, in all it's glory!

Your Tax Dollars At Work

I have miserable ass allergies. It seems like every few weeks this summer I get some sort of massive allergy attack that makes me want to dose myself up with antihistamines and decongestants and enter a coma until my mucusy debacle is over. But being a working stiff does not allow this luxury.

Today is one of the days I felt like crap, so I headed to Walgreens because I'm out of antihistamines. I get to the appropriate isle only to discover there is no Clariting D. WTF? I ask the pharmacist if they've just failed to restock. She informs me that they have to keep track of who purchases Claritin D and I'll have to come to the other line (of course) and produce ID. Mind you I purchased Claritin D from this very drugstore a few weeks ago.

"What sort of ID?" I ask. I'm thinking if they're going to do something as assinine as put claritin behind the counter then no doubt I have to have some special ID that says I can buy it, but no, I merely need to produce my drivers license so that all of my pertinent data can be copied down.

Ok, usually I think all that government spying on you shit is slightly paranoid, but this did strike me as totally invasive. I realize 16 year olds in rural areas convert acetametaphin into speed, but I just have damn allergies. And honestly, if I wanted some speed, I just buy some from the junkie loitering outside of Walgreens. Or some Coke. Or meth. Whatever, but I am seriously not going to go to the trouble to distill antihistamines into some sort of super drug. I just want to breath freely, assholes. Give me my fix!

So now, stupid stupid pharmacist lady and I have the most inefficient conversation in the universe:

"How many would you like?"
"Well, what are my choices?"
"I have boxes of 10, 20, and 30?"
"What's the price?"
"Well..."
"You know what, never mind, just give me 20."
"12 hour or 24 hour?"
"24 hour."
"Walgreens or Brand?"
"Brand."
"Ok, in the Brand I only have a box of 15."
I glare at the pharmacist for a good 10 seconds. "Fine. Whatever."

The pharmacist seemed to be hitting the good stuff herself and spoke very, very slowly, which made this conversation take 5 times as long to happen as it just took you to read it. Also keep in mind that in the world where I can actually purchase this over the counter, it would take all of 2 seconds to grab the appropriate box.

Pharmacist lady then proceeds to take my drivers license and copy the information which takes another 5 minutes and then make me sign for it. I want to shout IT'S FUCKING CLARITIN. CLARITIN!

I am now in a murderous rage. I skulk out of Walgreens with my claritin and lotiony tissues and I'm tempted to buy some shit from the junkie and walk inside and show it to the pharmacist. I realize that the pharmacist is not the real problem, but her bucolic attitude was maddening.

I can hardly wait for the morning after pill to be sold "over the counter." If Texas has anything to say about it they'll require ID so, you know, they can keep track of the "hos".