Voter's Remorse

I've always loved Ray Nagin. I love his peanut-shaped head. I love his off-color remarks and public-relations mess-ups. The debate goes on about whether or not he's a good mayor, but I'm a Nagin fan irregardless.

Atleast, I was a fan. Until I served Mr. Nagin at Mona Lisa.

RAY NAGIN IS A SHITTY TIPPER!

His bill is $25 and he tips $5. Which doesn't seem that bad. It's 20% - average. Not great but not assholish. But then you have to consider that he gets half off - because, you know, he's the mayor - so his bill was really $50. And when you get a discount, you're supposed to tip on the pre-discounted price!. So he tipped me 10% (on $50). Which is, indeed, assholish. And furthermore, he paid with a City Of New Orleans corporate card, so it wasn't even his money. It's the taxpayers' money. IT'S MY MONEY (I mean, it would be, if I paid taxes, which I don't, because I'm gangsta).

I can't believe I voted for this guy. Twice.

I hate you, Ray Nagin. And I hate your peanut-shaped head.

yeah, it's a comeback.... kind of

After months of distraction and avoidance, I think it's finally time to start blogging again.

So brace yourselves.

Well, brace yourselves, but don't get too excited. I'm not really all that interesting. Not really very interesting at all.

So, what interesting little tidbit should I offer you guys on this momentous occassion... um....
well....

um...

This morning, I had really bad gas.



whew! This blogging thing is a lot more tiring than I remember. Time for a nap.

~T

R.I.P. Lola

During the last week of may, Lola died of congenitive heart failure. Lola lived on the corner of Barracks and Chartres sts. She spent most of her time on the front porch chewing things or in Verti Marte - chewing things. She participated in Barkus numerous times; this year she went as a FEMA tarp. She rarely, if ever, pissed in the house. She is survived by her husband Lump and baby girl Lob.

(if you haven't figured it out yet, Lola's a dog. A bulldog, to be precise)


Alas.

Unbearably Hip(ster)

Last night, G, his friend Brady and I drove up to Baton Rouge to go to a Liars show. I had no idea who the Liars were, but Wienerschnitzel is in BR and I loves me some Wienerschnitzel so I went along.

It was quite a learning experience.

I learned that:
I will never totally understand white people or their musical tastes.
Yes, there is such a thing as a concert where NO ONE DANCES.
Hipsters are scary and have stupid haircuts.

I also learned a few things about Baton Rouge: Wienerschnitzel there closes early (a fact that made the entire trip pointless from where I'm standing). There are red lights in the middle of blocks. THERE ARE NO SIDEWALKS. All of this I find highly disturbing.

additional quote: G on the leadsinger of one of the bands who played
"He's black? He hides it well."

Upon Waking Up Stark Naked: How you know you have issues with your memory (and relationship)

Me: Why am I naked? Baby, did we do it last night?
Him: I... really... don't remember.

Happy Birthday and A Half

Tomorrow (May 5), I'll be 20. No longer will I be a teenager, which sucks, because I use my teenagerness to get away with lots of stupid things.

I'm afraid.

Me? A responsible adult?

It's the end of the world.

(It's Sauce's half birthday too. He's 20.5)

The Return

Yeah. I know. I did it again. I ... Disappeared.

See, what had happeneded was that my computer broke (damn you viruses) and I didn't really have time (or motivation) to go all the way to UNO and use the computer lab.

But don't think I haven't been thinking about you. I have.
(just not that much).

In other news:

I'm in love with my bank teller. Her name is Dominique. And she's just so... nice. Everyday I wake up and get together all the cash I have and ride my bike down Royal Street so that I can see her. I stand t the little desk and fill out a deposit sheet and wait in line. I start to get all antsy because she's not the only teller there (of course), and I really don't want to have to bank with one of the others. But through the grace of God, I'm always next in line when she finally says "Can I help the next person?" and I wiggle on up there and she smiles at me and I blush and hand her a wad of money and she types something or other and we talk about the weather and she hands me a little slip of paper and says she'll see me tomorrow.

She's making me rich. I don't spend any of my tips because I want to see her. So everyday I deposit about ninety bucks.

I think we should all be in love with our bank tellers. We'll be millionaires in no time.

Portland Tidings.

So I work in a warehouse stacking boxes now. Life is good.

Thats me and my room mate Nick in the bathroom of a very happening vegan eatery. I always order the cheeseburger.
-Sauce

Don't call me. I'm too busy being pissed off.

Last night, my phone fell out of my pocket. It is now broken.

What the fuck. We send people into space. We discover fucking lobsters that live seven thousand feet below sea level and grow hair on they're pincers. We make babies in test tubes. We make square fruit. We've developed weapons that can turn you to ash from thousands of miles away. You can get a fucking chin implant.

Yet no one has invented a cell phone that can survive a four-foot drop onto asphalt.

Fuck the modern age. I'm reverting to quadrupedalism.

Oh.My.God

I have met the three stupidest girls on the face of the earth.

They're from Detroit, visiting one of my roomates for the weekend.

They are fucking retarded.

Some of the highlights of the last two days include these phrases:

While sitting on the river watching the riverboats steam by: "So, can you, like, swim in this lake?"
"What river is this?"
"What's FEMA?" This one was especially bothersome because the other two couldn't answer her.
"What's all this stuff with the Chocolate City? Does that have something to do with the hurricane?"
And my personal favorite --- "So, New Orleans got hit by the hurricane, right?"

Part of me thinks I shouldn't post this because they might happen upon it and be offended. But the rest of me is pretty sure they can't read.

Sometimes

we're really cute...


Other times...We're fucking retarded drunks.

Hopefully in the future we'll be cute more often than we are idiotic.

But I doubt it.

Oh, go kill yourself

Dear Guy-who-ordered-a-bottle-of-water-and-a-cup-of-ice-because-"New Orleans Tap Water is Dirty",

Where the fuck do you think the ice comes from? That lettuce you ate in your salad; what do you think it was washed in? Where do you think the water in fountain drinks around town comes from? What do you bathe in and brush your teeth with?

No matter what you do, you're getting tap water into your system all fucking day long. So stop being a pompous piece of shit and deal with it.

You are an idiot.
I hate you.
I hope you drown. In tap water.

~T

So I made this 2 years ago for saucy.

Still great. And dont get a VD on Vday (click the picture).

-Sauce

There must be a God.

My dad got hit by a car.

While sitting on the couch at my uncle's house.

I swear, life doesn't get any better than that.

in other news: I hate pig-faced bitches.

A Conversation With My Boss

.: Well well, T-Bag, that's a nice shirt.

.: Ummm... thanks?

.: I like it. It's so black and whore-ish.

.: Like your mother.

.: pause :.

.: What the fuck? Did you just call my mother black?



*also, should I be bothered that my boss calls me T-Bag?

From Last Night

"I couldn't hear you! What'd you say?"

"Nothing. It wasn't important."

"Everything you say is important."

"What'd you say?"

"I said that everything you say is important."

*silence*

"Are you.... insulting me?"

"No! I'm saying that I care about what you say because I like you and you're my friend and I think you're funny and interesting and smart."

"Fuck you, man. Fuck you."


related: Rebirth + Alcohol may lead to miscommunication.

Best Pick-Up Line I've Ever Heard

While I was sitting outside work reading the paper and he was staring at my chest:

I could see yo' classifieds?

Yes. Yes, sir, you can.