Lawd Have Mercy, Chilldens.

After a long, rainy drive, the Old Man and I made it home from New Orleans in passable condition. Though we have gone completely feral and nocturnal, there are no new tattoos, scars, or diseases to speak of. A stiff regimen of well-timed naps and nourishing food should get us back in shape for work by Monday. If not, who the hell's gonna notice anyway?

For the reading pleasure of those who did not accompany us on this escapade, here's a brief rundown of our time in the Big Easy:

Friday - left Louisville, drove for ages, peed at a rocket, and the old man made out with a mannequin near the Hee Haw Motel.

Saturday - arrived in NOLA, ate and shopped, the ladies got called fat by an ugly old bar fly who Kim nearly vaporized, napped, tried to keep Kim from attacking Cissy - something about ketchup and beards, drank A LOT, sang Pantera to the obvious shock and dismay of my compadres, heard Cissy sing a whole FOUR WORDS (the only time in the decade I have known the man that I ever heard him sing. The words will ring eternal in my memory.) The singing occured in a tiki/goth bar that featured fisting reindeer wall art. Pics to come.

Saturday creeps into Sunday - stagger back to the Biscuit Palace, sleep on the floor of friend's room because our room is not ready, get up just before noon to move to our room, which was gorgeous from what I could see as I made a mad dash to the bathroom to relieve my innards. Made it to the bed where we slept for many hours. Woke up and repeated eating shopping drinking regimen. I cannot remember exactly which day, but Kim was dismayed that someone would bring the FMLA to the French Quarter. When asked if she meant the FFA, she said, "Whatever."

Monday - Caught the Trolley and went to the Garden District with Kim and Brian. Visited the cemetary, played heavily on Kim's mortal fear of the living dead, shopped on Magazine street. Kim bought a pig that poops goo. I actually got some sun, and have the line on what little part of my body was exposed to prove it. Old Man and I watched some street musicians in front of the cathedral. Napped. Ate and drank some more. Learned how to eat a crawdad. Stayed up late with the Old Man and Cissy to talk politics and the after-life.

Monday creeps into Tuesday - the pals fly back home. The Old Man and I drive up the coast to Biloxi to see where he used to be stationed when he first joined the Air Force. It was a shithole. We ate a place that actually had fried corn on the cob. What the fuck? That night we saw fantastic jazz at Preservation Hall. We met a guy who called himself "Rock n' Roll" at Harry's Corner, where we earned the nicknames "Pretty Lady" and "The Big Galoot."

Wednesday - Rained like all hell, but we went out walking anyway. Window-shopped at art galleries on Royal Street, ate too many beignets and muffalettas, had the most awesome crab cake on the planet, learned that I can do a stellar impersonation of a Baby Boomer waspy wife on her cell phone in a retsaurant, napped, bought baubles for folks at home, took pics, listened to karaoke night at Jean Lafitte's in Exile from our balcony while reading till rain stopped, visited Jean Lafitte's Blacksmith Shoppe, listened to some Blues band featuring a guy named "Hambone", ate again, finished night at previously mentioned tiki/goth bar where they were showing trailers from 50's and 60's pornos (Box Office International, ya'll) and an episode of South Park which had everyone in the bar chanting, "I made you eat your par-ents!"

Thursday - drove drove drove. Dog destroyed the house. Pics to come. Sponsored by Shop-Vac.

I am sure I have left out plenty of details, probably for the better. I want to give a shout out the the pugs at Pug Place, the cat at Preservation Hall who bit that waspy lady, but liked me, and the homeless guy who asked us for a comb as we packed the car. Enjoy the brush "on your way to work", bro.

I miss the French Quarter already.