Pet Peeves, Abandonment and Potpourri...

Okay, so let's talk about Mardi Gras. There isn't much to say about the actual holiday as it was slow and uneventful. There were many reasons for the slowness, it was early, it was supposed to rain, it wasn't very warm, it was Superbowl weekend. On that last note, why the NFL would hold the superbowl on Mardi Gras weekend is beyond me, but that's the thinking of most Orlenians I suppose. Many cities around the country have a mardi gras celebration that weekend, even Muncie Indiana has "Munci-Gras". (credit to Mattie P. For that one.)

Since there weren't many exciting things about the holiday I thought I would take this time to point out some of my bartending pet peeves, which were in full bloom this holiday.

1. If you are ordering one drink and holding a 20 dollar bill, don't ask me how much it costs. If you really believe that it's going to cost more than 20 bucks and you're still going to purchase it, then you have mental problems to start with. Just hand me the 20 and we'll get on with the process. It's a simple order really; order, pay, tip, leave.

2. Order your cocktails, all of them, at the same time. Don't walk up, get my attention and then turn to your 9 friends behind you and say "What do you guys want?" This will lead to my simply walking away and you being pissed off that I am now waiting on someone else. Also, on that note, wait your turn. If I have a bottle in my hand and am pouring a drink, I'm obviously already making someone's drink. Here's a hint: Most bartenders go in a pattern, from one side of the bar to the other in a crowded bar. If you're in that big of a hurry, figure out which direction I'm going and move to that end. If you're really in that big of a hurry to get a cocktail you're an alcoholic and will undoubtedly wait until hell burns out for your next fix, all the while shaking a 20 dollar bill in my direction. At that point it becomes fun to watch your desperation. I digress. Now since we're onto order protocol, let's cover a couple things. When you order, let's say, a vodka cranberry, it's just that. VODKA and then cranberry. It's not a cranberry vodka. A simple thing I'm sure, but to a bartender, this is a major annoyance. Since we're talking about Vodka Cranberry, which is more often known as a Cape Cod. Now the difference between a Vodka Cranberry and a Cape Cod is a lime. A lime, that's it. Much like a Rum and Coke is also a Cuba Libre, when you add a lime. Back to Vodka; most people who order a Vodka Cranberry want a lime and so I put a lime in this drink no matter how it's ordered. Not very often, but occasionally, someone will commit the worst offense.

"Hey, let me get a cape codder."

Okay, I'm gonna say this once, and once only. Pardon my capital letters, but this is important.

UNLESS YOU ARE AT HYANNIS PORT WITH A KENNEDY, YOU CANNOT ORDER A CAPE CODDER. If you are sitting at Hyannis Port with a Kennedy, it's probably going to be Ted Kennedy. If you are drinking cape codders with Ted, just a piece of advice. Don't let him drive you home. Seriously.

I like my job, I like being a bartender, I like people (okay that's a stretch) and these may seem like very petty complaints compared to the rest of the world, but hey, it's my blog, I'll bitch.

My abandonment continues. This weekend my friends Mike and Garland are leaving New Orleans to return to Tennessee. They have both been such good friends to me and it's very sad to see them leave. They threw me my 30th birthday party and we were on the same bowling team for two years. I've spent countless, countless hours at their house, boozing and talking over issues ranging from the Jewish Settlement in Israel to the fact that Palmetto bugs are really cockroaches. Since leaving Indianapolis I have missed the friends that I had there, the casual conversations, the longevity of friendship and it was with Mike and Garland that I first found that here in New Orleans. I'm going to miss them terribly and it makes New Orleans seem less like home without them here.

Jeff and I went to the movies the other night. We saw the movie Sideways, but more about that in a moment. While we were walking there we saw the beginning of a decent Pimp-Ho argument about to begin. White woman, stringy hair, oversized coat over super tight stone washed denim jeans and a long sweatshirt with white sneakers. Black man, black pants, black shirt, black shoes, black baseball cap. She screams at him and runs off, she comes back, he screams at her, he walks off. Amused by street life, we walk about a half block behind them for about 4 blocks. Suddenly however it took a turn when the man began beating the woman with an umbrella, until it broke, and then began punching her while screaming "Drop it Bitch! Drop it!" and her pleading screams, "I dropped it, I dropped it," before she ran off. Now I'm not about to jump in the middle of a fight like this, but I stopped and called 911. The cops showed up pretty quickly (we were only about two blocks from the station.) As soon as they arrived they grabbed the man (I pointed out which person he was to the police) and had him up against the squad car. Out of nowhere comes the stringy haired woman, "That's my man, what are you doing?" Of course since she swears he didn't do anything to her, they have to cut him loose. The cops stayed with us until the man had gone his way in case he decided to turn on us next. They told me that it was obviously a prostitution thing and that the man had been released from OPP 3 HOURS AGO. Three hours and he's having the police summoned for beating his ho. In my liberal belief system I have always believed that prostitution is a victimless crime. Seeing something like that really shakes that belief. The prostitution itself doesn't hurt anyone (we won't get into the spread of STD's) but the life that often goes along with it is dangerous and harmful. This woman took a beating from a man no doubt over drugs, stuck in a life that probably seems inescapable and that is victimhood, albeit mostly self imposed.

We went on to the movie and let me tell you, "Sideways" was the best movie I have seen in a long time. I never root for the love story and I was in tears rooting for this one. Thomas Hayden Church (Wings, Ned and Stacy) has not aged well, but god damn was he funny in this role. Virginia Madsen is phenomenal, phenomenal, phenomenal. I would have fucked her. Seriously. This movie was funny where it should have been, sad where it should have been, exciting and wonderful. I wish I had another thumb to give it three thumbs up. I will take the obvious joking comments on that note. I changed my Academy Award vote for supporting actress, from Cate Blanchett in "The Aviator" to Virginia Madsen.

It's time to make the doughnuts.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

It's Valentines Day! I don't really have a valentine but I can still enjoy the day. Yesterday I made little gift bags for my friends at work with home made cookies and suckers and those tasty little sugar hearts with stupid sayings on them. I even took flowers to a couple friends.

I will be posting more about my Mardi Gras experience later, I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy V.D.

Mardi Gras Post # 2

I was just out in the quarter for a bit, both to walk the dogs and run some errands. My managers permit, (which if you are unaware is yet another way that the city of New Orleans bends you over dry for $125 bucks a year) was expired and of course lost anyway when my wallet went bye bye. Fortunately the civil servants at the Office of Finance were feeling their oats today and the time went really quickly. As I went by the pub to drop off a photocopy of my new permit I got a little bit of Mardi Gras fever. There were delivery trucks everywhere, dropping off beer and liquor, the last coats of fresh paint being put on shutters and wood framing going up for extra support on balconies. At 49 degrees with a strong wind, it's cold out there, but the city is gearing up and it is a little exciting. I'm sure the 14th time I get stiffed on a drink while some bastard sticks another 20 in the dancers undies I'll lose that feeling, but what the hell, let me enjoy it for a moment won't you.

Speaking of dancers! I am told that last night there was an incident with a pub dancer. Little Jake, the hot Seattle boy, was humiliated when the VJ put up either photos or a clip of Jakes solo video appearance. A pity. Seriously, if you're ashamed of it, don't do it. There isn't enough money in these fly by night little porn companies to make it worth your while. I have a copy of this porn, given to me by a friend who found it in the bargain bin for 10 bucks at a video store. The shoot itself is pretty shoddy, and Jakes scene, well. Let's just leave it at this, he spends the majority of his time staring directly into the camera. While I know many people who have done porn, and admittedly it would probably be a little embarrassing to see yourself up on a big screen while you were dancing there, something tells me that this particular dancer is narcissistic enough to enjoy it. Thankfully we don't have a lot of mirrors up around the building, he'd never get a tip for looking in them so often. Now you might be saying to yourself that I am jealous of the boy, and I'll admit, he has a fantastic body, one that he has worked very hard to achieve. It's that smugness that gets me. It's the kind of smugness that makes you want to take a hammer to them. I really don't dislike this boy, in fact I rather enjoy having him around, but who among us doesn't need to be knocked down a peg or two now and again. Anyway....

I'm going to turn on some Carly Simon now and sign off....

Mardi Gras Post #1

Greetings Kiddies!

I just wanted to let you all know a couple things as we head into the Mardi Gras Weekend. First you can all find me at my usual spot downstairs at the pub all weekend, beginning tonight, Thursday, and continuing through Fat Tuesday. I actually have Ash Wednesday off so if anyone wants to go to Mass let me know. You'll have to explain the whole stand up, kneel down thing, but I catch on pretty quick most of the time.

Secondly, the pub has made a change this year in one policy. Instead of charging people at the mezzanine to get upstairs to the parade, they are going to charge people at the front door (where the cover usually goes up) every night of Mardi Gras. Yes, every night. From what I am told that cover will be $10 dollars a night, but I'm sure it will probably go higher at certain times or certain days. I'm sure that one of the reasons for this is to encourage people to buy the weekend passes, which I do now suggest you do. I didn't encourage it before if you were not planning to go upstairs, but since it's for the whole bar now, I do suggest you buy them. They are currently $ 50 bucks and are available either at the Hit Parade (the store across the street from the pub) or online:

https://secure.hitparadeonline.com/clubpasses/mardigras_purchase_form.htmhttps://secure.hitparadeonline.com/clubpasses/mardigras_purchase_form.htm

Third, and perhaps most important, the police are going to be out in full force this year emphasizing old and new rules. One of those is that you cannot have any kind of glass OR metal on the streets now. If you are drinking canned beer, even if you are only going down the street to another bar or right outside the door of the pub, please put your drink in a plastic cup. We have had instances of people being arrested on St. Ann Street for simply carrying canned beer. They will be watching for nudity and "lewd behavior" as well, so if you can't keep it zipped up, keep it semi-private.

Despite all these changes and warning, I am looking forward to the holiday and to seeing all of you out and about. If I don't see you, have a safe and Happy Mardi Gras. If I see you but don't remember, then I'm probably having a good Mardi Gras. Ciao!

Dear Gentle Reader

My Trip to Indiana

Those that are continuous readers here know that my father suffered a slight stroke on Christmas Eve. Assured that his health was in no real danger, I put off a more immediate trip and planned for a time when I didn't have to be at work for major events like New Years. I never dreamed that the ensuing family drama would unfold. My parents are divorced and have been for some 20 years. My mother has maintained an unhealthy hatred of my father all these years. In hindsight I suppose this was a mistake, but because of her hatred of my father, my sister and I have kept our relationship with our dad on the DL. I use the term relationship loosely as there really isn't much of a relationship. I see my Dad occasionally when I come through town, and there have been several visits to Indy when I haven't seen him at all. We used to talk online occasionally but even that has been a long time ago. He usually manages to call me sometime around my birthday (though this last year he was in the hospital for a heart scare. Oh yeah, he's had a major heart attack, quad-by-pass surgery, throat cancer and a car accident that would have killed any normal mortal. Amazing he's alive and he's only 54.) Those of you who know enough of my family history probably understand why I don't have much of a relationship with him. He was, at his worst, a horribly mean alcoholic who was abusive in every single way that he could be. At best he was an absent father. Get the picture? I do not blame my mother for her opinion of him but I just don't have the energy to sustain a hatred of him for all these years. Ask me about his second wife, Carol, I have the capacity and strength to hate her for the rest of her sluttish, whorish, cuntish life. I digress.

My mother was furious that my sister and I did anything closely resembling caring about our father. I knew that my visit was going to be an experiment in riding a fence between the two camps, waving a white flag and hoping that I didn't have a breakdown myself.

There is a wrinkle to add to this whole situation. The Sunday before I left my wallet was lost/stolen, whatever. I had no I.D., no credit cards no anything. I spent the day Monday at the DMV which is always a fun experience. I usually go to the west bank branch because it seems to move the fastest. It was there that I found out about a Louisiana law I didn't know anything about. Let's say, for example, that you own a truck which is registered and insured in this state. Again, for shits and giggles, let's say that you have a lot of built up unpaid parking tickets on this vehicle. Now let's say that this vehicle was towed for parking in a street cleaning area. If you didn't have the money to pay for the vehicles fines plus the tow you might leave it there for a few days and then realize that you now owed another 15 bucks a day for "Storage" fees. Then perhaps you might decide that since you have another vehicle anyway, you may as well just abandon the truck as the cost of all these fines is waaayyy more than the worth of the truck. So you cancel your insurance and forget about the whole thing. WELL. If you cancel your insurance and don't' return your license plate to the state, they get upset. This is the dumbest thing I have ever heard, but alas, this is the law. So when I showed up to get a new drivers license I discovered that I had to pay a VERY LARGE fine to the state. Hundreds of dollars. Those who are regular readers here will remember the large amounts of money I have paid out to the city in parking fees and tows. It's expensive to drive in New Orleans. After paying my 300 some dollars in fines I was able to get a new drivers license and an ID card.

Given that I spent most of my day at the DMV, I accomplished little else that day. I did manage to have my credit cards cancelled and start doing laundry for my trip. I washed the clothes and threw them into the dryer, planning to get up early the next morning to pack the now dry clothes. (Hint, this is foreshadowing) I had already called my mother to tell her of my wallet situation which only effected her in that she was going to have to put my rental car on her credit card. She wasn't happy about it but I assured her I had the cash to pay for this when I left town. The next morning I woke up to the alarm but went RIGHT back to sleep. When I did get up for good I realized my clothes were still wet. Yes, still wet. So I packed what dry clothes I had and raced for the airport. I got there with 20 minutes to spare before my flight departed and thank god there wasn't any kind of a line at the check in. I rushed to the security gate to find it, thankfully, empty as well. "This will be a breeze," I thought, not realizing that I was about to come very close to being arrested. The TSA agent was not a friendly woman. Let's put that extreme understatement out there now. When she informed me, in her oh-so-friendly manner that I had been "pre-selected" by the airline, I was not happy. I was down to about 9 minutes to get on the plane. Full Disclosure, I said "God-damnit, I don't have this kind of time." I'm going to call her Laquicha, she cobra necked me and said "Oh you wanna take an attitude 'wit me and I'll call officer Joe over here and he'll take you to 'da jail." She motioned me to the side and continued her tirade until I said "Look, I'm standing where you want me to stand, let's just get on with this, I have a flight in a few minutes! Whatever you need to do, just do it!" Now for those of you who are thinking that it's not her fault that I was running late, you are absolutely correct. Some of you may be thinking that this woman has a tough job and I should do everything I can to make it a smooth operation as possible by co-operating fully. You'd be (mostly) right again. New Orleans airport is not that busy of a place and so I doubt it's that tough of a job. Still, the safety of the skies is a serious job and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. It's also expensive to fly and that does give me the right to have a little bit of an attitude. Pardon me if I am not the happiest traveler ONE time in my life. I am always friendly and co-operative with airline people, determined not to be "that guy." That day I was that guy. Laquicha is still berating me under her breath when her male co-worker comes over to, and let me get the emphasis right, Waaaand me. He was very nice and efficient but was suggesting in low tones that I didn't want to mess with Laquicha. That she was "mean." Laquicha, at the time, was not doing anything but glaring at me and waiting to launch her ample hips my direction to drag me over to Officer Joe, a quite elderly Jefferson Parish officer who really looked like he wasn't up to dragging anything but his feet. I informed my new male TSA agent friend that Laquicha didn't know "mean," that I could show her "mean." It might have been a fun death match but frankly I was in a hurry. After my waaanding I moved on to the third agent who emptied my carry on, quickly I might add, and relinquished my belongings after running my bag through two or three more times through the screening machine. I FINALLY get to my gate and discover that my flight is 15 minutes late. So I had plenty of time to go back to the security gate and find Laquicha's supervisor and let him know about my experience with his uber friendly employees. He himself did chide me for using "curse words" but my explanation that I cursed in general, and not specifically AT Laquicha seemed to satisfy him. I did suggest that Laquicha be transferred to some other area in the airport where she wouldn't have to deal with customers, such as baggage handle. When I left he was having a discussion with my fat little nemesis. I'm sure the conversation went something like "hey talk to me and look serious while the little white queer walks away and then we'll go on break together and laugh about this," but I was at least satisfied that Laquicha hadn't gotten her way and dragged me to the jail. I calmed down by Memphis and of course was pre-selected by the airline again to have an additional screening, one I could have avoided by not going outside to smoke, but alas. Memphis is a very busy airport with very efficient employees. My entire screening took about two minutes and was conducted with great professional courtesy (and yes I realize my attitude probably did help facilitate that speed) and for those who think some of my comments racist, the gentlemen who moved me through the process in Memphis was also black, very nice and when I intimated that my process in New Orleans was very bad he chuckled and said "Well some people don't like their jobs very much, now do they." That seemed to sum it all up.

When I got to Indy my mother was there to meet me and we went to rent a car. I would have reserved one but without that good old credit card, it's impossible. To no-ones surprise probably, there were no rental cars. So finally one car company said they would have a car the next afternoon at their Greenwood (my hometown) office. I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with my mother and tell her that I was expected to take both my grandmother and my father to the doctor the next morning so I kept quiet. Sharon (my mother) and I went to her house and me up with my sister and then we all went out to dinner. Now let me say that when the three of us are together we really have a wonderful time. My sister and I feed off each other and Sharon (or Cher as I call her most often) is there with her own dry wit and little jabs, usually doubled over laughing at the Lawrence and Julie show.

The next few days were decent, Julie took me to my dads and I drove his truck to take everyone to the doctors office and then Julie picked me back up and I went to get my rental car with Cher. Unfortunately the company was mistaken about their car availability and it took us a couple more hours to get another car from another company. My mother was furious and bitchy through that experience but it was very frustrating. The attendant, whose name was either Paris or Parish, he wasn't very good at enunciation, was a complete moron. While it was humerous to watch him fumble over words and try to answer the phone at the same time, it was annoying. While we waited I went to the mall and bought some new clothes since I had not had any dry clothes to bring with me.

Thursday I took my dad to another doctors appointment and then spent the rest of the day with my mom. In the conversation with my dad he said that he wanted to talk to my mother. It seems that his work in AA (don't get me started) has gotten him to a point where he wants to make amends with my mother. I told him I would tell her of his wishes but I have serious issues with this entire thing. Making amends through AA usually only helps the Alcoholic. I don't agree at all that my mother would be soothed in any way by my fathers 23rd hour pleas for forgiveness. I had promised him however that I would mention it to her, and I kept my word, which opened up a whole can of worms. First and foremost her answer to my fathers desire to apologize was met with something between a polite "no thank you," to a resounding raging "fuck no." Then we went through the reasons she was upset with my decisions to visit my father. I'm not going to go through all of that here, but I don't think either one of us came away any happier. The rest of the trip was somewhat strained and the last day my mother was angry because of a mix up in phone messages led me to eating lunch with my grandmother instead of her and she was sullen and bitchy the rest of the day. So I left a little early and went to the airport, bought a trashy Jackie Collins novel and sank into a world of fake disfunctional relationships all the way home.

I had not seen my friend Jason while I was in Indy but he and his boyfriend Travis came for a visit a few days later. Jason and I have been friends for a long time, since junior high, and so we have quite a history together. I had to work a lot but we did get to spend some time together and have quite a few guffaws and laughs and a couple cocktails here and there.

Now it's almost Mardi Gras and the rain has been pouring for days on end it seems. Right now we are having a lull, so I'm going to take the stir crazy doggies for a walk before I go off to my employee meeting. Tomorrow starts my 7 days of work, then a day off, then four more days. That's not too bad, 11 out of 12 days. Some people are working 14 days non-stop.

So if I don't blog again before, HAPPY MARDI GRAS!