At left, Kelly and Bert are sitting on the couch shortly after my arrival at Bert's apartment Saturday. Kelly talks to a relative about e-plans while Bert works on his flexing. At right, we take our seats at Walk-Ons for lunch. Allen is really excited to be in the picture. We went here because IHop was closed for some reason. The Walk-Ons waitress told us the restaurant plans to be open by Tuesday night using a generator. If anyone knows, they'll rake in the dough with no one having power. Smart move.

BACK IN THE BATON ROUGE

Paul and I evacuated to Bert's apartment in Baton Rouge on Saturday afternoon. We left my house at 4:40 p.m. Coincidentally, that is the same time I was born. This time we didn't get lost. We took a sort of back way to the Red Stick and arrived at 6:41 p.m.

Ivan evacuation to BR: 6 hours

Katrina evacuation to BR: 5 1/2 hours

Gustav evacuation to BR: 2 hours

Paul tells me that the Palace had three workers show up Saturday for work. Seven people came to the theatre to see a movie. He brought doughnuts for the workers using his company P-card.

Paul: Not sure what the P stands for.

Me: Palace? Paul?

Paul: It's P-card for all companies.

Me: Petty cash card?

Paul: Could be. Or it is pay card.

Me: Maybe you're supposed to pee on it.

I don't think I could be more worried about the storm. There are just too many bad thoughts and uneasy feelings in my system to write about. Besides, I don't have to tell you people about the state of worry. It's not like my readership lives in Washington, D.C. Well, if you don't count Lisa.

Speaking of Lisa, I had a fairly long conversation with her Saturday night. Talking to her on AIM helped me forget about Gustav for a few minutes. That felt nice. Plus, I think I gave her good dating advice. Never thought I'd say that.

We played a friendly game of poker late Saturday night. Kelly, who wasn't quite sure what she was doing, came in second place. Every hand she had hit on the flop. She couldn't miss. It always seems to work out that way. She probably would have won, but she folded the best hand several times because she was scared of the other person betting. Ah, girls.

Let me tell you about Allen, who is Bert's roommate, longtime friends with David and childhood friends with Minkus (though they haven't spoken in 10 years). He's not worried about possibly losing power for up to a week here in Baton Rouge. You see, Allen has spent two years in Iraq (mostly in Fallujah and Baghdad). He said he was once without power for three consecutive months and had to dig deep holes in the dirt to be cool enough to sleep and avoid mosquitoes. He ate MREs every day and savored finding a special treat of Skittles every now and again in the MRE. That's my kind of guy. He also says things like: "Yeah. The war wasn't bad. It got pretty bad after that, though."

Today's famous Gustav: Gustav Kirchhoff. 1824-1887. German physicist. He helped in the understanding of the basics of electrical circuits and coined the phrase black-body radiation in 1862. Kirchhoff's laws (about circuit theory and thermal emission) are named after him.

Did you know? The Carl Gustav is the name of a recoiless rifle used by U.S. Soldiers, who often call it the goose. It was first produced in 1946 and first used in 1948 in Swedish services.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I'm away from mom during the storm. She refuses to leave. So we can only guess the curses she'll bring to Gustav. Hopefully, she scares him away. But before I left Saturday, we were watching the forecast. "Every time I look at one of these things, they change the fucking time (of landfall)."

AND THE SURPRISE TEAM IS ...

Every year in the NFL, there is a team (or two) that reverses its fortunes from the previous year, despite predictions to the contrary. I believe this surprise team has to be 6-10 or worse one year and then above .500 the next. Eight such teams qualified for that criteria. In the poll, I didn't include the Jets and Rams because I think those teams have solid expectations. I also didn't include the Dolphins because they're my team, and I always think they'll be good. Shut up.

According to readers of The Gene Pool, the Raiders will be that surprise team. Have ya'll seen JaMarcus in the preseason? Not good. But some woeful team had to win the poll. The 49ers received the fewest votes, which tells me that they will be the surprise team.

MY WEEKLY CUBS THOUGHTS

-- In the past six games, six starting pitchers have taken the mound. The Cubs have one quality start. By Jason Marquis. Take that, Derry.

-- The Cubs lost by more than two runs four times in August. That brings the total to 20.

-- A-Ram-Ram has 100 RBIs entering September. If he gets his average near .300, I think he should at least be in the Top 3 in NL MVP voting.

-- In August, the Cubbies went 20-8. That's impressive.

-- MVP of the Week: Carlos Marmol. He pitched three consecutive days, going 3 2/3 innings. He struck out seven of the 12 batters he faced and didn't allow a hit. He's baaaaccckk.

-- The Phillies meet on the mound a lot. Brenly called them "the meetingest team in the majors."

-- Jeff Samardzija went the whole month of August without an earned run. He pitched 14 1/3 innings in 13 appearances and struck out 13.

-- I watched the comeback Thursday night after returning from the Saints-Dolphins game. I didn't know what happened, and so the big rally in the eighth was awesome. Once these guys get a rally going, it seems impossible for the other team to stop it. I felt like the Phillies relievers knew after a few hitters that the game was over, even though Philly still led.

PARTING SHOTS

Jacob is worried about his hamster during the evacuation Saturday.

Kelly: "I've killed 21 hamsters in my life. I'll kill another one if I have to."

Paul gets a text from a co-worker making sure he got out of the city OK. She laughed at his response.

Co-worker: Are you straight?

Paul: Last time I checked.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top 5 moments of August.

5) The Gene Pool party.

I recently learned Kaila did not eat as much of Tina's turkey sandwiches (which are tiny by the way) as I thought. Turns out, Paul discovered he likes turkey that night. Maybe mom's sandwiches are magical.

4) Fantasy auction drafts.

I did two of these in August. I have Tom Brady in both leagues.

3) A surprising engagement.

Another one of my friends makes that lifelong commitment. And to quite a looker. The number of my non-ring-wearing friends continues to dwindle.

2) One night, two rejections.

First gal had a boyfriend; still not sure what the second girl said.

1) Hurricane Gustav makes its way to the Big Easy.

Do you think somewhere out there, a couple exists with the names Katrina and Gustav?

A DEATH IN THE T-P FAMILY

In the middle of worrying about Gustav on Friday afternoon, I head downstairs with JRap to buy some five-cent Skittles to cheer me up. I assume the vendor still came earlier that day.

When I began to approach the machine, I immediately knew something was terribly wrong. I didn't see any bright red up ahead. Alas, the Skittles had been replaced. The F4 slot remains five cents, but now the occupant is a Zero bar. Yuck. What was the vendor thinking? Perhaps he knows it's five cents and decided to put a five-cent candy par in there.

I collapsed to the floor and tragically pressed my face against the glass of the machine. I returned to the department and made the somber announcement. The already low morale from Gustav sank even more. At dinner, we had a moment of silence. I took comfort in knowing we had a good run. D had a Zero. I asked him if he liked it. "Not really. It ain't Skittles." Amen, D. Amen.

Farewell, my good friend. You will be missed. Rest in peace.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I tell my mom that I'm leaving Saturday afternoon. "They can't start contraflow yet. They got all that traffic at the fucking game."

I'm watching the LSU game. "That is so fucking ridiculous."

I tell mom that I'm going to Baton Rouge with Paul. She's not to thrilled because the Red Stick doesn't look so safe either. "What the fuck are you going for?"

Mom sees all the trash I take out of my schoolbag to pack for the evacuation. "Fucking ridiculous. You have to save every little piece of paper there fucking is."

Mom got a call yesterday asking if she wanted to move her scheduled hair appointment next Wednesday to today. "Can you believe that? At 2:30. On Causeway and fucking Vets."

GUSTAV TRACKER

I took this picture at right of the sports department in case it's my last day of work at the T-P. I was scheduled to work Saturday, but I decided not to go in and head to Baton Rouge with Paul in the afternoon instead. I hope to be back at work Thursday. But who knows at this point. It don't look too good. Song of the day: Ludacris' Move Bitch. In my head, he's talking to Gustav. Move, bitch. Get out the way. Get out the way, bitch. Get out the way.

I watched the first half of the LSU game, though it didn't feel quite right. I felt like I should be doing something else. Quick observations: Charles Scott was impressive, the defense came prepared and I'll wait another game or two to form my opinion of the quarterbacks.

Today's famous Gustav: Gustave Flaubert. 1821-1880. He was a French writer most famous for producing Madame Bovary.

Did you know? Primeval, a horror film from last year, is based on the true story of Gustave, a 2,000 pound crocodile in east Africa. Orlando Jones was in it.

FANTASY FEVER

Liam and I were supposed to auction draft for our fantasy team Dos Agateers on Sunday afternoon. Gustav pushed the draft up to midnight Friday at Anselmo's. It's like I'm a regular there now. I show up just time from work for the draft to start.

We are an expansion team, but I think our draft came out all right. The two main running backs available (the rest are keepers) were Brian Westbrook and Frank Gore. (At right, the big board before the draft began. Our team is third from the left. As you might be able to tell, we don't have any players yet.) We had to get one of those two backs. Gore went first, and the price got too high. So, we had to take Westbrook. We also went high for Tom Brady. 

Besides our two stars, here's the rest of our main lineup:

RBs: Thomas Jones, Justin Fargas, Fred Taylor

WRs: Torry Holt, Donald Driver (at 2 bucks), Joey Galloway, Sydney Rice, Joey Porter

TE: Chris Cooley

With our last pick, we couldn't resist picking up a Saint for the squad. We took Patten.

I didn't see this joke coming, but in retrospect, I should have. Derry introduces Liam and me to the group as the new team. This guy wearing a Shockey jersey in the corner starts to chuckle. "What was their name? Dos Fagateers? Ha."

PARTING SHOT

Chuck hates Alabama (the state school). He encounters some fans evacuating to Atlanta.

"I must have rolled over 15 of those car flags that flew off their cars. I will never cheer for that team ever. They are the lowest common denominator in the gene pool."

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top times I cried because of a TV show, not counting a series finale. Note: Possible spoiler alert in the explanations.

5) Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

I don't know what season, but it's an episode where Will's real dad comes to town. Will hates him at first but grows quickly to love him. They make plans for a road trip. But pops takes off without an explanation. Will loses it and cries on Uncle Phil's shoulders. 

4) The season 2 finale of The Office.

Jim finally makes a move on Pam and kisses her. She tells him to stop the second time.

3) The season 1 finale of How I Met Your Mother.

Ted walks down the street to his apartment in the rain in the middle of the night to find Marshall sitting on the porch with the engagement ring Lily gave back to him.

2) A season 7 episode of Scrubs.

Kelso leaves his post. And you find out he had a soft heart all along.

1) The season 6 finale of Friends.

Chandler and Monica propose to each other. I can lose it just thinking about the moment.

SOME FANS ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT WINNING THIS THING

As a reward for my hard work, Marcus graciously gave me off Thursday night. Two days before he told me this, Brick offered me his tickets to the Saints final preseason game against the Dolphins because he knew he had to work. That worked out nicely.

I first offered the other ticket to Paul, who is also a Dolphins and Saints fan. Though he seems to be falling off the Miami train and could care less about preseason. I don't think he's seen one play of Saints preseason action.

Me: Hey, do you want to go to the Saints-Dolphins game next Thursday?

Paul: I don't think so.

Me: I have free tickets.

Paul: Umm. I'll have to think about it. But probably not. I don't really care.

I knew my dad wouldn't say no, though. He's the reason I cheer for the

Dolphins in the first place. I was proud of the two of us for one reason: We both wore Saints shirts to show community unity. (At right, if you look between the two cars underneath the Piccadilly sign, that is a man laying there. At first, I was concerned, but then he started to move. Not sure if he is depressed about Gustav or if he was catching a nap. Or maybe the food at Piccadilly is just that filling. You can't make it to your car without falling asleep.)

On the way to the Dome, dad informs me that we have a Saints connection. Drum roll, please. We are cousins with Gumbo! I kid you not. Well, it is through marriage, but close enough. My dad's dad's brother's daughter's daughter is married to Gumbo, or as we call him in the family, Henry. And no, I can't score you a free Gumbo T-shirt. Heck, I've never met him.

I have several fan observations. Two guys are passing us as they walk up the stairs to their seats (we're in row 17). One guy: "Oh, boy. We're way the fuck up there." Two couples climb the stairs and the lead guy is looking at his ticket to find the right row. This happens all the time, I'm sure. But with two minutes remaining in the first half of the final preseason game? Why even show up? Are these people related to Tyler Palko?

A Six Beers is walking around our section chatting up various people. He grabs the shoulders of a guy (who looks awfully familiar to me, but I can't place him) sitting in the row above us.

Six Beers: Hey, man.

Familiar guy (confused): Hey. Who are you?

Six Beers: Oh, man. You don't remember? You're on my myspace page.

FG: Say what?

Six Beers: You have a Drew Brees jersey?

FG: Yeah.

Six Beers: Yup. That was you.

FG: Me?

Six Beers: It was during the playoff game (against the Eagles). My girlfriend was recording the action after the game. We were right over there by the railing. I was just high-fiving everybody in sight. When I went to high-five you, you went right in for the hug. I got the pic on myspace.

FG: Oh. OK. Sure.

Six Beers: Yah. That was awesome.

(Six Beers then went over to the next section, sat with two gentleman and began a discussion about Wade Wilson.)

I tell dad that I've enjoyed the game, but I can't sit through the second half. Boy, did we beat traffic. Not another car around us leaving the downtown area. But first we had to complete the maze of leaving the parking area under the bridge next to Poydras. Somebody blocked our immediate exit. Somebody dad referred to as a dickhead. So dad threw his truck in reverse, went around a couple of cars, avoided a few muddy areas, ran into a few more dead ends and eventually found the only opening to the street. Whew.

A couple of thoughts on the game.

1) Deuce looked pretty good, especially that move he put on a cornerback. I didn't think he needed to play as much as he did. (At right: Deuce is introduced to the crowd.)

2) Shockey didn't play. But he was the first person to congratulate Gramatica on his field goal. He came on the field and slapped him on the helmet. Barely anybody else looked at Martin.

3) The Dolphins might not be too bad. They got two good running backs when healthy. Pennington could resurrect his career. Hey, a guy can hope, can't he?

(At right, this is one of three smoker's sections dad and I passed on our way out at halftime. I knew these existed, but I didn't realize how many people were out there. This pic is on the left side. I couldn't capture the whole crowd in one shot. It looked more like the floor section at a concert waiting for the main act to make its first appearance. Like dad said: "You don't even have to smoke. Just come outside and breath everybody else's. Save a little money.")

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I tell my mom that dad won tickets to the Saints-Bucs game Sept. 7 in the driver's T-P raffle. I meant to say dealer's T-P raffle. "The person who brings the papers to the station is called the fucking driver."

Katrina anniversary coverage/Gustav tracking dominated the local stations Friday. "My fucking stories aren't coming on today."

Dad picked up seafood lunch, and we're eating in the kitchen. Dad tells mom about the shower he went to in Mandeville a few weeks ago, where he met Gumbo. "All those showers are fucking ridiculous."

Mom tells Dad about Gillie's latest blog in which she is struggling to find someone to properly print her save the dates. "Save the dates. You ever fucking heard of that? I ain't never heard of that."

Mom gives Dad a warning about talking to me. "You betta watch what you say around him now. He writes everything you say all over the fucking Internet. (And yet she doesn't realize that I'm going to write that.) One day the FBI will come to the door."

GUSTAV TRACKER

I've been nervous about the storm since Marcus' phone call Tuesday afternoon, but I've maintained in my head that it isn't coming and have not freaked out. That changed a little when I got to work Friday afternoon. Just the feel of the building was off. I was given the option to work the weekend. All the TVs were showing press conferences. Everyone is preparing for the worst. That talk makes me edgy.

Now, more lyrics from the new hit that's sweeping the Gulf Coast region: "Can't Take My Mind Off You."

We hate you, Gustav (I love you, baby).

And if it's quite alright (same)

Stay away, Gustav (I need you, baby).

Out of our line of sight (To warm a lonely night).

We hate you, Gustav

Trust in us when we say:

Oh, awful Gustav, (Oh, pretty baby)

Don't come visit, we pray (Don't bring me down, I pray).

Oh, awful Gustav, now that we loathe you, sway (Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay).

to another place, Gustav (And let me love you, baby).

Another place. (Let me love you).

Notes from Friday.

Fox had evacuation spelled wrong during the 5 p.m. news. WWL cut off the governor's press conference for a commercial.

Tina's thoughts on Gustav.

1) "I don't know why they give these (emergency) numbers. It'll just be busy. They don't give a fuck about these people."

2) To dad: "Gustav. What a fucking name."

Today's famous Gustav: Gustav Klimt. 1862-1918. Klimt was an Austrian Symbolist painter mostly known for his erotic depiction of the female body.

Did you know?: Gustav has been used four previous times as a named storm (1984, 1990, 1996, 2002). Names of storms are on a six-year rotation and repeat unless they are retired for causing damage. The other four Gustavs did not touch the U.S.

THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK

No jokes this week. Pray for a miss. A lot. And for those who would get hit if it misses us.

--------------------------------------------------

PARTING SHOTS

I was told about this one Friday, but it happened Thursday night at work.

Marcus (to JRap): I've got a great Laffy Taffy joke. What do you call people who are the opposite of Lopes? (JRap eventually gives up.) Anti-Lopes.

----------------------------------------------------------

I tell Jelly that I need some sensitive advice.

Jelly: Because I'm such the sensitive type?

Me: No. Because you're a woman.

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THE DAILY TOP LIST

As it seems I might be sleeping out of town in a few days, here are the top 5 places I've spent the night (besides my house) since high school.

5) Some random place Uptown. Junior year.

4) The Uptown Girls dorms. Spring 2003-Spring 2004.

I had an air mattress set up in the living room. If there was a late night at the Maroon or I was drinking somewhere, I was allowed to crash in the dorm, as long as I didn't disturb anyone.

3) Sterling apartments. Baton Rouge. August 28, 2005-early December 2005.

My home during Katrina. At first, we had 10 people living in the four-bedroom apartment. After a few weeks, we went down to seven for a while. Then five. Technically, I was Paul's guest. I had all my stuff in his room. But I couldn't take his snoring, so I kicked him out of his own room. Pretty terrible sounding. In my defense, he often fell asleep on the couch in the living room anyway.

2) South Liberty off Jefferson. July 24, 2005-August 26, 2005.

I spent 34 glory days living away from Tina. That was supposed to be me getting out there on my own. Chuck and I were getting along famously (we even had a Madden night) until Katrina beared down on N.O. It was going to be one heck of a semester, though. Senior year. Parties. A little hard work.

1) The Maroon office. Various nights Spring 2004-Spring 2006.

I lost count of how many nights I slept in the school newspaper's office. If production night went long, I slept there. If I had to pull an all-nighter to finish a paper, I slept there. In spring of junior year, I had a Monday night class from 6 to 9 p.m. and then a Tuesday class from 11 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. in the meeting room of the Maroon office. So I turned the Maroon into my bedroom every Monday night. Someone would nudge me at about 10:55 a.m. Tuesday morning, and I would roll off the couch and stumble into the class with the sheets. Don't freak out. I had all my clothes on.

I'D LIKE TO GO TO LUNCH

Derry has told me several times and written a blog entry about his wife's fondness of The Gene Pool. She's even on a mission to find me a woman. Good luck with that. Drea has asked for a picture of Tina, as have several others. Mom refuses to have her picture taken (I've tried a few times), and out of respect for her, I won't sneak a picture of her and post it. The TCC, however, will continue daily. (This is where you clap and cheer like you're at a political convention.)

Drea happens to run an Italian restaurant in Fat City. And somehow I've never eaten there. I tell Derry that I can't post a picture of Tina, but I can bring her for lunch one day. This seems to satisfy Drea, as she offered to put the lunch on the house. One of the perks of running a universally-liked Web site. Soon, I'll be a VIP at an upscale club. After that, I'll get my own personal driver.

Me: Mom, we're going to Anselmo's for lunch one day next week.

Mom: That place by the Randazzo's?

Me: Yeah.

Mom: That's Italian. I don't eat Italian food.

Me: What?

Mom: When was the last time you saw me eat Italian? It's like you don't even fucking know me.

Me: But. But. You're full-blooded Italian. I... I...

Mom: I had too much of it when I was young.

Me: Well, they have other stuff. We are going.

So Thursday we ran some errands and ate lunch at Anselmo's. We saw a bar called Cheers in Fat City. How ironic. I write an entry about the show, and the next day I'm mere feet from a bar with the same name. Mom declined to stop in for a drink.

After we sit down, I scan the room. I immediately spot Pete (a retired T-P writer) sitting in the middle of a large group of old men. A few minutes later, I walk over there to say hello, and Pete is chatting with Derry. Pete talks a million miles an hour, and I know I have to cut it short at some point or I will be stuck there all day. Pete informs us that the group of old men meet for lunch every two weeks. Many of them were involved in the sporting world. I think he may have told us what all of them did, but I only caught that one played in the NBA and another once managed the Cleveland Indians. I ask if Mel Parnell ever eats with them. Pete says he usually does, just not today.

Mom orders the chicken marsala, which she has never had before, and I get the veal parmesan. Mom enjoyed her dish, but what really got her going was the Italian salad. She gobbled hers down, then took my remains and finished that off. Both plates were completely cleaned; she got all the juice with the bread. She said it was authentic Italian, with all the olives and pieces of tomato. Next time, Tina will order a large Italian salad as her meal.

Drea stops by our table for a chat. We discuss St. Christopher grammar school because her young son used to go there, and I am, of course, a legend there. I wouldn't be surprised if my picture is hanging somewhere in the hallways. We talk about the decline in the quality of the school in the past several years. Very sad. I am shocked to find out my old football and basketball coach now also teaches Spanish. Maybe I should visit.

How did I enjoy my meal? As soon as I finish typing this up, I'm devouring the leftovers for dinner. That's some tasty red sauce. Besides, who doesn't enjoy a free meal? Oh, and my mom behaved herself. Not one 'fuck' came out of her mouth during lunch. I was hoping one would for Drea. Sorry.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom went to Wal-Mart the other day. "There's still no Sam's water. I'm like, 'What the fuck?' Then, I found some on another aisle. They're so clueless over there."

Mom and I are getting ready to head out Thursday afternoon. I tell her I just need to take a quick shower. "You still have to take a shower? Hurry up. You are so fucking ridiculous."

Mom is ready for summer to end. "I'm sweating my fucking ass off in here."

The rest of today's cursing took place in the car while running the errands.

She gets to a confusing turn. "What the fuck?" She has to turn around in an apartment complex as a result. "This is a major fuck-up."

Mom tells me that Deborah Phelps has her own sponsor now (a clothing line). "Can you fucking believe it?" (Umm, yeah.)

Mom is about to pull into a parking spot at Best Buy when she sees that the spot is reserved for expecting mothers. "What the fuck? I never had that."

Mom is listening to the "news" on the radio; I'm not. "What the fuck? Somebody put ashes on Teri Hatcher's chest?"

Mom checks the price of season 5 of CSI:Miami at Best Buy. It is $55. "People spend that much? I can't see fucking doing that. I know it's 24 episodes. But, fuck!"

A commercial on the radio tells residents to make sure they have batteries in their digital cameras for the storm. You should take picture before the storm and then after to show the damage for insurance purposes. "Fuck that. I have a $xx deductible. Which means if that fucking tree falls on my house, I have to pay the whole thing."

PUTTING OUR PLAN INTO ACTION

When Gillie was at my house for an afternoon of crawfish back in May, we discovered that we both have an unhealthy love for action movies. Every action movie I said I like, she also likes it. We hatched an idea to do an action movie marathon. Since our differing schedules don't allow for such tomfoolery, we are actioning it up in installments. This started Wednesday.

We ordered calzones from Reginelli's and immersed ourselves in Die Hard. Pretty much the perfect choice with which to kick off this series. Chuck even joined us for calzones and part of the movie. He also took the time to discover the flash on my camera.

My favorite line in the movie: (Bruce Willis sees the approaching fire trucks) "C'mon baby, come to papa. I'll kiss your fuckin' dalmatian."

Gillie and I also discussed travel plans for Gustav. I got my first bad 

sign that this sucker is coming. Jenna and Gillie are both flying to Chicago in the next few days. I already knew this because I'm jealous that they are both seeing Cubs games while there. The problem is that in late August 2005, they both took a trip to Greece. Clearly, they should not be allowed to travel to the same place in late August. Shame on them for not planning accordingly.

(At right: Gillie inserts the Die Hard DVD. Not sure what is on the TV, but she is hooked. I'm surprised we got to the movie.)

GUSTAV TRACKER

I watch the 10 p.m. update Thursday and learn that the track has Gustav hitting to the west of New Orleans. I feel a little better, but I'm still really nervous. Bob Breck isn't so confident of a miss anymore. I'm sure the track will change by Katrina anniversary night. Might not need to evacuate with this current path, but I'm thinking of heading to Baton Rouge anyway to hang out for a few days. 

I've been seeing the Planters commercial a lot. The one with the ugly chick attracting attention because she smells like nuts. It plays the song, "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." I decided to change the words for the chorus to relate to Gustav, giving us a new song: "Can't Take My Mind Off You." If you're good boys and girls, I'll do more of the song tomorrow.

You suck too much to be true (You're just too good to be true).

Can't take my mind off you.

You'd be like Hell to touch (You'd be like Heaven to touch).

I want you to miss so much (I wanna hold you so much).

At my house please don't arrive (At long last love has arrived).

God, please keep our city alive. (And I thank God I'm alive).

You suck too much to be true.

Can't take my mind off you.

Notes about Gustav from Thursday.

I counted 24 friends with a facebook status regarding the storm. That's a record. The previous high I counted was 15 during the Hornets-Spurs series.

Two phrases keep getting repeated as regards the tracking of Gustav: "monitoring the progress of (the storm/Gustav)" and "keeping a close eye on (Gustav/the storm." I don't like these. We can't see the storm so we can't keep an eye on it. And the first one sounds like something a doctor would say. ("I got your tests back. We'll be monitoring the progress of these cancerous cells, Mr. Patient.)

I also love hearing these ads for Labor Day sales around the city. I don't think anyone is looking to buy furniture this weekend.

What does Tina have to say about Gustav?

1) If this shit comes, I'm eating well (we have plenty of steak). Last time, I didn't have any fucking meat in the freezer.

2) You think those fucking levees will hold up if that thing comes again?

Today's famous Gustav: Gustave (French translation) Eiffel. 1832-1923. He was a structural engineer. He is famous for designing the Eiffel Tower as well as the armature (framework around which the sculpture is built) for the Statue of Liberty.

Did you know? In Latin, Gustav translates to Gustavus. In Italian, Spanish and Portuguese, it's Gustavo.

PARTING SHOT

My dad and I went to the Saints-Dolphins preseason game Thursday night (more on this tomorrow). We're sitting in our seats.

Dad: I'm nervous.

Me (somberly): About the storm?

Dad: No. Tonight's game. I hope both teams do well.

(Don't worry. He knows preseason doesn't mean anything.)

THE DAILY TOP LIST

Speaking of the Dolphins, here are my five favorite Miami Dolphins of all-time.

5) Ricky Williams.

Weed aside, his monster 2002 season can't be ignored. 1,853 yards and 16 touchdowns. I am glad I didn't buy his orange jersey, though.

4) Zach Thomas. Linebacker.

The most determined player I've ever watched.

3) Jason Taylor. Defensive end.

I call him JT for short. I wrote an entry on him after he was traded to Washington.

2) Sam Madison. Cornerback.

My favorite secondary player of all-time. Had 20 interceptions in a three-year span. His anticipation was something to behold.

1) Dan Marino. Quarterback.

Duh. Amazingly, my jersey I got in the seventh grade still fits. No jokes, Marcus.

WE SHOULD ALL MEET FOR A DRINK

Making my way in the world today takes everything I've got. Taking a break from all my worries sure would help a lot. Wouldn't I like to get away. Sometimes, I want to go where everybody knows my name. And they're always glad I came. I want to be where I can see our troubles are all the same. I want to be where everybody knows my name. 

I feel this way a lot. And since Cheers Season 10 comes to DVD next week, it's time to compare my friends to the characters of the classic 80s (and part of the 90s) show from that bar in Boston.

ME: Cliff Clavin. 

We both live at home with our moms. We both aggravate our friends with useless trivia. Cliff is the most made fun of guy at the bar. I'm the most made fun of copy editor at the T-P and was the most made fun of person in the Maroon office. 

BOB: Frasier Crane.

Frasier is a psychiatrist and spends his day dishing out advice to crazy people. Bob doesn't get paid to offer advice, but that doesn't mean he's shy about giving it out. Often Bob will say to me: "Here's what you should do, Gene ..." or "Next time, you should say ..." Frasier often corrects the other characters. Bob probably will correct me on something in this blog.

NICK: Sam Malone.

Sam runs the bar (well, not all the time). Nick has a bar on Tulane Ave. named for him: Nick's Bar. Sam is a former major league pitcher. Nick is a former Peace Quad wiffle ball pitcher. Both are tall and skinny. Sam has a way with the ladies. Nick did all right in his day. 

MOM: Carla Tortelli.

Both are short, fiery Italians with two marriages under their meatballs. Carla doesn't take shit from customers, not even when her brother came into town. Mom doesn't take shit from me or Cox or anyone else who dares cross her.

BERT: Woody Boyd.

Woody's dream job is to be an actor. Bert was the star of our fourth grade play about a kid who needs to win the top prize on a game show to pay for his mom's surgery. FYI, I played the host of the game show, Mr. Van Bigstar. Bert also was in a play in the seventh grade. In the final season, Woody gets elected to the Boston City Council. Bert's dream job is to be a judge. So both are political personalities. Plus, Bert's main squeeze is named Kelly, the same name of the girl Woody marries. 

LOPES: Ernie "Coach" Pantusso.

Coach coached Sam with the Red Sox. Lopes is the coach of an eighth grade basketball team. Coach has laid off the booze since his baseball days. Lopes doesn't drink since that incident in high school. The following rhyme has been approved by Lopes: Most of coaches friends, including his wife, have long been dead; being friends with Lopes just may put a voodoo curse on your head. Coincidentally, Lopes has appeared on all three of my comparisons. Congrats.

KAILA: Diane Chambers/Rebecca Howe.

Since Rebecca replaced Diane, Kaila gets to be both. Diane suffers from OCD on the show. Her pencils and pens in her pocket must be in precise order. I'm not sure of the specifics, but I'm fairly certain Kaila has a touch of OCD. Kaila has a sort of resemblance to Rebecca, and both are a little clumsy. Rebecca once burned down Cheers. Kaila drops her beer when she's had too much. (Sorry. I had to.)

LITTLE JOE: Norm Peterson.

Maybe the easiest comparison I've ever done. Norm sits at a bar all day and drinks beer. That's how Joe imagines heaven. The patrons shout Norm's name when he enters Cheers. I shout Joe's name upon first seeing him when he comes into town. And they're both short, cute and chubby.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is not happy about the condition of her Sex and the City DVD. "My fucking thing is fucking ripping. Those things aren't worth shit."

Mom sees that Fay still is dumping rain up the East coast. "I thought that fucker died." Then, later in the day she spat out a rhyme: "Fucking Fay just won't go away."

Mom and I were working in the yard early Wednesday. We have these piles of leaves everywhere, and I'm going to the stacks and putting them on the lid of the garbage can to dump it in the trash when I'm done. I kick the lid, pretending to play some soccer, from one pile to the next. Mom looks at me: "You are some fucking lazy." As we are wrapping up, she says, "I can't fucking do this anymore." During the process, I'm dumping the grass out of the bag of the lawnmower into the trash when I hear mom scream from the other side of the yard: "Oh, fuuuucccccckkkkkkk." The neighbors definitely heard that one. 

GUSTAV TRACKER

I wake up at 10 a.m., and mom gives me a nice dose of panic to start the day. I'm still opening my eyes when she says, "That fucking thing is coming here."

Me: No, it's not.

Mom: Have you seen the paper? (she shows me the Gustav story). ... How do you pronounce this fucking thing anyway?

Me: Goo-stav.

Mom: Is that Russian?

Me: No.

Mom. Well, everyone is on fucking alert.

In the afternoon, I call Paul to make e-plans (e=evacuation). He doesn't think it's coming either. But just in case, we're headed off to Baton Rouge at some point to rekindle the good old days of Katrina. Hopefully, we don't get lost again on the way.

 

I get off the phone with Paul, and mom asks if I've spoken to my dad about e-plans. I tell her that we're going to the Saints game Thursday night. "They're not gonna open that fucking thing again if the storm comes, are they?"

I look at the five-day tracker map for Tropical Storm Gustav at 1 p.m. Weather.com seems to have it missing us to the east. Don't breathe easy yet, kids. I don't recall the last time a storm went on the path the weather experts first laid out. I decide not to think about Gustav until Thursday. Mom, however, didn't let it go quite yet. "Gustav. What a fucking name."

Today's famous Gustav: a group of kings in Sweden. There have been six kings of Sweden with the name Gustav (or Gustaf), beginning with Gustav I, who reigned from 1523 to 1560. There have been two other kings with the name Gustav in it, including the current king Carl XVI Gustaf, who has been in charge since 1973 when his grandfather King Gustav VI Adolf died. All told, a Gustav has been king of Sweden at various points for a total of 208 years. 

Did you know?: Gustav means "staff of the gods." 

IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING

The person who says this phrase almost always follows it by making a point or going into an explanation. If the point or explanation is necessary, then the phrase "it goes without saying" doesn't need to be said. Because if it did go without saying, then the person wouldn't be saying anything. It goes without saying that Gustav will cause damage wherever it happens to hit. No shit, Sherlock. Nobody needs to tell you that. So if someone is talking to you and starts with "it goes without saying," I give you two options. 1) Ignore what comes after it by taking out your phone and texting me that someone just said IGWS to you. 2) Slap him across the face.

Since I decided to make this an entry a few days ago, I've realized a slight variation of the phrase can be used. Not by following it with an unnecessary rambling but as a response to an obvious point made by someone else. For instance:

Paul: We're both off tonight. We should go to Bruno's.

Me: Well, that goes without saying.

PARTNG SHOT

I wasn't at work Wednesday night, but I was tipped off to this exchange.

Lopes (to Derry): I think the name (of the NBA team) should be Oklahoma City Bombers. It fits.

Marcus (shaking his head): Ya see. That's why the fucking hurricane is coming here. Because of you two assholes.

Derry: It wasn't me!

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top 5 Tom Cruise movies. 

5) Collateral. 2004.

He played a heck of a bad guy.

4) Risky Business. 1983.

Sometimes you just got to say: What the fuck. As in what the fuck happened to your sanity, Tom? 

3) Jerry Maguire. 1996.

Has one of the most copied/imitated lines in cinema history: You had me at hello. An imdb search gave me four other movies using that line, but I know there are several more that changed up the line. Though I can only think of one: Dodgeball. "You had me at blood and semen." Saying "you had me at (whatever)" isn't funny. I hope this nonsense stops. 

2) A Few Good Men. 1992.

Paris Hilton played with Elisha Cuthbert in House of Wax; Cuthbert played with Will Ferrell in Old School; Ferrell played with Amy Smart in Starsky & Hutch; Smart played with Cuba Gooding Jr. in Rat Race; Cuba played with Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire; and Tom played with Kevin Bacon in A Few Good Men. Man, that game is fun.

1) Rain Man. 1988.

Tom was right about one thing. K-Mart does suck. 

I'D RATHER BE IN THE RAT PACK


For anyone who reads this site consistently, I feel like I owe you an apology. You see, I've sort of been tricking you. I've bragged about my memory several times and backed it up too. If you know me well, I've probably freaked you out at some point by remembering something you forgot a long time ago. In some of my top lists, I've listed exact dates in many of the lists pertaining to my personal life.

As impressive as my memory may be, it's not the only reason I can pull exact dates out of my ass (like when I got Ric Flair's autograph). I have a confession to make: My name is Gene, and I'm a pack rat. Sorry for the deception. But I'm coming clean now. I hope our relationship is strong enough to get past this.


For my whole life, I've had trouble throwing things away. Instead I collect piles of paper and junk everywhere. You never know when you might need these things. Unfortunately, my mom is quite the opposite. She thinks everything should be in perfect order. These contrasting life styles lead to confrontations every now and again, mostly with her winning. I can't really compete when she yells: "Clean up this shit right now. I'm sick of all your little fucking piles of paper. Organize this shit or I'm throwing the whole fucking pile away."

If it were up to me, we would not have had that garage sale (or garbage sale as mom calls them) when I was 14. Mom sold a lot of good shit from my childhood. I would feel much better about my life if I still had my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toys or the He-Man: Master of the Universe ones. I even had this wrestling buddy that I used to beat up. Gone. I've been bodyslamming a pillow for the past 10 years.

As you can see in the picture, I have a box for my collection of events I've attended. I have stubs for every movie I've seen, stacked by the year (though I'm a little behind in the organization). I have a stack of Saints tickets, LSU tickets, Hornets tickets, concert tickets and wrestling tickets. So yeah, I remembered that I got Flair's autograph at a Timberwolves game, but I had to refer to my Hornets tickets to get the exact date. Once again, my apologies.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

The grass needs to be cut at casa de Guillot. "The fucking grass is growing like weeds."

Mom has been cleaning a lot of dishes. "I'm getting sick and tired of fucking cleaning."

Mom wants to buy season 5 of CSI: Miami. The price is a bit steep. "You know how much it was? Fucking $55!"

GUSTAV TRACKER

I'm getting ready for work Tuesday afternoon when I get a call from Marcus.
Marcus: What are your evacuation plans?
Me: For what? (I had no idea.)
Marcus: Gustav.
Me: Where is it?
Marcus: Over Haiti.

And so began the week of worry. I don't think I went thirty minutes for the rest of the day without thinking deeply about it or hearing someone discuss the possibilities. Since that's all anyone will be focused on for the next several days, I will try to have a daily update on my feelings and the happenings with this thing. For today, I don't think Gustav will hit us. Somehow, I became more confident of that after watching Bob Breck. Go figure. He has this graphic on the news dating from 1851 (I think) to 2006, which shows all the storms that have gone over Haiti or very near it in August. In all that time, not one storm coming from Haiti has ever hit Louisiana. Breck says:

"Look at us there (on the graphic). Nada. (Extends arms in the air.) I love history!

At work, Mike and Phil are looking at the projected path of Gustav. I look too.

Mike: Why don't these things ever go south?
Me: They're not birds.

POOR SIGN OF THE WEEK

Paul and I are watching my tape of Raw when he tells me to rewind back a few seconds. Six fans that went together made a sign for the wrester CM Punk. The sign was actually a fairly large cut out of each letter. Each fan held one letter in the air to spell his name. They were in the front row. However, the sign they held when he came out to the ring said: CM PNUK. Like Paul said: "Why go through all that trouble and put the letters out of order?"

I'm starting to think wrestling fans aren't the brightest group. And it's OK to admit it. You want to know what the CM stands for, don't you? Well, it stands for Cookie Monster, a nickname his mother gave him when he was a baby boy and would grab for more cookies.

PARTING SHOTS

Phil and I are watching the Cubs-Pirates game. Pirates pitcher Ian Snell is struggling.

Phil: Snell does not handle adversity well. (On the next pitch, Snell throws a breaking ball way up that Soriano barely avoids having hit him.)

D finds multiple mistakes in Sunday's blog.

D: I will hook you up, Gene. For $20 a day, I'll edit it real good.

The office is talking about hurricanes and the possibility of sleeping through a storm.

Brick: You couldn't have done that for Katrina, though.

Bake: No. That would have been a wet dream.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top 10 guilty pleasure songs, for those songs that I really shouldn't have on my iPod anymore, let alone spend the night jamming to.

10) Fergalicious. Fergie.

"I be up in the gym just working on my fitness." What a great line.

9) Buttons. Pussycat Dolls.

At least I have the image of the hot lead singer in my head when I sing along.

8) Candy. Mandy Moore.

I was like 15 when this song came out. I think I watched the video a half a million times.

7) Summer Girls. LFO.

"You're the best girl that I ever did see; the great Larry Bird jersey 33." With classic rhymes like that, it's a shame the group only had one hit album.

6) Bye. Bye. Bye. N'Sync.

I'm hoping this scores me points with a future girlfriend.

5) He Loves You Not. Dream.

Not as popular as it should have been.

4) Always Be My Baby. Mariah Carey.

David Cook's version isn't bad either.

3) Love Will Find a Way. Christina Aguilera.

Truer words about love were never put in a song.

2) You Drive Me Crazy. Britney Spears.

No matter how bad she ruins her legacy, this song always will have a special place in my heart.

1) Rock Your Body. Justin Timberlake.

I can't help but dance to this one. Mix this song and a few drinks in me, and I'll probably start taking my clothes off.

Three weeks ago, I broke down all the aspects of my wrestling character: The Gene Pool. I asked my good buddy Paul to draw the character, and here is his creation. Those are rain drops on the swimsuit. He even added my signature wristbands. The elbow pad is an extra touch for the finisher. I think I shall tape the drawing to my computer at work for motivation.

MINKUS MEETS WORLD

In an episode of The Office, Jim says of Dwight: "I'm pretty sure he (Jim's roomate) thinks I'm making up Dwight. (pauses) He is very real." That's the way I feel about Minkus. I think many of my co-workers think I am making him up. But he is very real (just take a look at that picture).

Over the years, I've been fairly hard on Minkus. But he definitely deserves at least half of it. What else could he expect with comments like these:

1) Instead of asking, "Where yat?" like a normal local, he'll ask me on the phone: "What's your location?"

2) Instead of asking for a piece of paper, he once asked Paul if he could borrow some stationery. 

3) When he called Thursday to tell me he was coming into town, he asked if I worked all weekend. I said I was off Sunday and asked what he had in mind. Minkus: "I don't know. I just want to see you." (Talk about creepy.)

So he's a little creepy and mumbles (or as we called it in high school, merrs) a lot. I mean you have to be next to him and listening closely to understand what he says. But the boy just might be my ticket to the privileged life. Let's do a quick review of the top students in my graduating class of 284 students.

Valedictorian: working in the LSU gift shop, last I heard.

Co-salutatorian: a sports copy editor (hey, that's me)

Co-salutatorian: a chemical engineer approaching a master's and soon after a PhD (Minkus)

Gee, who's winning this unwritten-after-high-school contest?

Let's see, what else? Oh, he's working on a project that could revolutionize the world.

Me: Um. How's that $10 million idea coming along, buddy?

Minkus: It's a lot more than that, Gene.

Me: I'm talking about my cut. 

Basically, the "pill" he is trying to develop immediately sobers you up. How does this not make a shitload of money? It would change the way people go to college. It would eliminate designated drivers. You wouldn't have to worry about the drive home while at the bar. And it could significantly decrease the amount of drunk-driving deaths, making the world a better place to live. Makes writing a catchy headline a little less impressive. 

For legal reasons, I can't go into the specifics of the development. Legal reasons and the fact that I can't comprehend any scientific mumbo-jumbo coming out of Minkus' mouth. In laymen's terms, he has these enzymes that want to have sex with the alcohol in your system to dissolve it. But the stomach is being a huge cockblock by destroying the enzymes first. 

For my part, I have offered to name the product when it hits shelves in like 10 years. These thing don't happen overnight, you know. I'm calling it: Drunk Dial. Can't you see a college kid in 2018 stumbling out of a bar with his friends? "Dude, I'm so wasted, but I need to drive home. You got any Drunk Dial on you?"

Anyway, Minkus' birthday is Wednesday. For the past six or seven years, I've been giving him change as a present. A penny for about five or six years. Last year, I told him he was worth it and upgraded him to a nickel. This year, I went even bigger: a bag of Skittles. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom looks through the ads in the paper and sees that some place has the Wii on sale, but you have to get in line and wait. "They can't be in demand that much. I don't think you should have to stand in a fucking line anymore."

Paul came to pick me up Sunday night. I was writing my blog and listening to music, so I didn't hear Paul knocking. That led to this:

Mom: Gennnnneeeeee!

Me (taking off headphones): What?

Mom: Answer the fucking door!

When I went to bed Sunday night, there was a flash flood watch until 6 a.m. Tuesday. I get up, and the sky is clear.

Mom: Where the fuck is all the rain?

Me: Did you know we have a flash flood watch?

Mom: Yeah. It's all over the fucking paper.

Mom made red beans and rice Sunday. We had it for lunch again Monday. She didn't heat it up enough, so I put the plate back in the microwave. "What? Is it not fucking hot enough?" Then, as I'm taking the plate out of the microwave, she looks quizically at the stove. "Is the fucking stove on? (It was.) How the hell did this happen?"

Mom is waving goodbye to me Monday when she tells me to move the neighbor's garbage container out of our driveway. It was on our pavement a little bit. I move it, but as I do that, I ask her why that was so important.

Mom: Because you would have hit the motherfucker backing out.

Me: No, I wouldn't have.

Mom: Bullshit!

DID YOU KNOW? (The final Olympics installment)

Did you know that Michael Phelps won eight gold medals in Beijing. I'm not kidding. He set the record for one Olympics, too. Plus, he set a whole bunch of world records. Did you know that his relay team had to rally in one event and that he won the seventh gold by .01? You should have seen it. Also, did you know he eats 10,000 calories a day and his body is the ideal shape for a swimmer? I'm not making any of this up. I promise.

Speaking of Phelps, he'll probably be making several commercials in the near future. He has to take advantage of his fame right now while people still remember him. I have an idea for an ad with VISA, one of his sponsors. Phelps is shown living underwater (did you know he feels most at home in the water?) and doing a couple of routine tasks. He then makes a purchase (still underwater) on his computer using his VISA card. And the guy who does the VISA voice says as Phelps prints out the tracking number for the item: VISA: It's Everywhere You Want to Be.

Wait, scratch one part of that. His mom should say the slogan.

PARTING SHOTS

We ate the whole rack of Skittles in the vending machine in four days. I hope that doesn't tip the vendor off. I bought the last bag Monday night. I ask Bake if he wants the yellows I have laid out.

Bake: "No. I don't know where your hands have been."

Paul tells me that he recently made a reference at work to The Tell-Tale Heart. His co-worker gave me a blank stare and said he had never heard of it. Paul went on a polling mission with everyone on that Palace shift. 

"And you know how many people had heard of it out of 25, including me? Four. Twenty-one of 'em didn't know what the freakin' Tell-Tale Heart was. How sad is that?" (Very, Paul. Very.)

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top 5 things people came up with for what the girl at Bruno's said to me Tuesday before saying, "But thank you." I had said: Can I buy you this drink? Remember, I couldn't understand what she said before "but thank you." (I need a guest top lister for this week. Any takers?)

5) Minkus.

"I already had enough to drink at my boyfriend's before I came here, but thank you."

4) Lopes.

"Hey there, I think you're cute and everything, but I just can't accept a drink from a Cubs fan. But thank you."

3) Sandy.

"No, I like women, and if I did do men, it wouldn't be you. But thank you."

2) Marcus.

"I'm really a man and am surprised you couldn't tell. I already have short, geeky love slave named Raul. I now have to go home and shave my chest and legs. I don't need a razor and I don't need to be trained to do Saints drive charts or the prep rail, but thank you."

1) Jelly.

"Listen, you ass. I only smiled at you because you looked like too much of a p**** to actually work up the nerve to come talk to me. Now that you're here, you've forced me to mumble some bullshit about having a boyfriend or being a lesbian, but thank you."

THE GENE POOL SAYS: Thanks to all those who participated. These comments made me feel so much better about the incident and myself in general. For her effort, Jelly won the special prize. What else? A bag of Skittles.

Oh, and remember when I told you Wednesday that a third thing happened that day to show how much of an idiot I am? No? There was Marcus' chocolate chip joke and not knowing that KMA meant kiss my ass. Well, the third incident concerned Jelly's response. You see, for the first four hours after reading her statement, I thought p**** meant penis. Later in the night, she was discussing her answer with Derry, and it hit me that p**** means quite the opposite of penis.

SOMEDAY I'LL BE SATURDAY NIGHT

(that title is for you, JRap)

When I left work Saturday night, my intention was to go straight home to prepare to watch the Redeem Team finish off the redemption process with a gold medal. I got sidetracked but still made it home two minutes before tipoff.

I'm at a light on Jeff Davis when I happen to look over at the car stopped in the next lane. I do a double take because there is something familiar about the guy in the passenger front seat. I recognize the beard of Johnny (one of Gillie's friends visiting from Virginia). A little creepy, I know. I decide to get the car's attention and roll down my window. My idea was to throw something at the car, but I accidentally rolled down the back window. I told you I'm an idiot. Besides, Chuck tells me that Gillie probably wouldn't have liked her car being hit with a random object I selected to throw from my car. Good point.

The light changes before I can roll down the right window, so I decide to follow them. A few blocks later, I call Chuck, assuming he's also in the car because all I could see was Johnny.

Chuck: Hey, Gener.

Me: Hi there, Chuck. Are you in a car?

Chuck (kind of creeped out): Umm. Yes. Why?

Me: I'm following you.

Chuck: OK. But there's a red car behind us.

Me: I know. I'm behind that car.

Turns out, they were driving home from the Mid-City Bulldog to grab a quick snack. They

weren't quite ready, however, for the night to be over. I follow them to Chuck's house, and we chat while Stu and Johnny eat a sandwich. In my limited time hanging out with these two, I learned that they are two pretty cool cats. For crying out loud, check out their ride (at right). They say real men wear kilts, but I think real men drive trikes across the country (after New Orleans, their next stop is Gainesville, Fla.). I especially like this Johnny (no offense to Stu). He's like the anti-me when it comes to traveling: "Man, I haven't been to New York in like three years. I need to go."

Gillie, Chuck, Stu and Johnny decide to walk over to Tuck's to finish off the night. I walk there with them even though I was hesitant because I wanted to watch the basketball game. Plus, I haven't been to Tuck's since the time four years ago when I vowed never to step foot in that skank-infested dump of a bar again. But I didn't want to be rude to the out-of-towners and just leave. However, when we arrived and saw (as I had guessed back at the house) that there was a $5 cover, I took that as an opportunity to say my goodbyes and scoot. With 25 bars in the Uptown area, why would you pay to go into one of them when the other 24 are free? I hate that place. This is what was written on the marker board:

Ladies Night.

$5 cover.

Drink all night.

Get Laid!

I have one final note about the scum of the Uptown bar scene. Apparently, Tuck's bouncers are experts in making threesomes happen. I have been told three separate stories by three separate people about three separate girls (sorry for the overuse of separate; it's for emphasis) having a threesome with bouncers from Tuck's. The kicker? One of the lucky ladies is my ex-girlfriend.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is watching Weeds, her favorite show, on DVD. "How nice. He just called his wife 'my cunt wife.' Ha. Ha. Ha."

Mom is playing Wii tennis Sunday afternoon. I tell her she's getting really good at hitting aces. "I slammed the serve like five times in a row. That motherfucker got me on one. You never expect them (the computer) to hit it back."

I accidentally cancel mom's tennis match in the middle of it to start my own game. "What the fuck are you doing?" I feel bad so I play a quick first set and tell mom she can play the second set. I put down the remote and walk to the catch, without pausing the game. "You made me miss my fucking serve."

Mom is trying to watch some Olympic stuff on Demand. "What the fuck is this? The women's 8-10?" She then clicks on the item. "Look how long it is? Zero minutes. What the fuck?" She then clicks on view, and it's a mountain biking event. "Oh my God. She hit the fucking wall."

Overall, mom is not pleased with Cox's on Demand options for the Olympics. I think she expected them to put on entire events. "These are just fucking past highlights. I want to see someone win a fucking gold medal. This is bullshit. Ya'll need some PR. ... God damn. Ya'll need some fucking PR."

IF I CATCH THESE PUNKS ON THE STREET ...

There are many reasons to love our fair city. The French Quarter. The spirit of the people. Crawfish season. King cake season. Red beans and rice on Monday. Last call isn't at 2 a.m. But the way people drive here is certainly not on that list. I have two recent examples.

The worst part about my commute to work right now is construction at Jeff Highway and Causeway. As the new bridge is built, there is a temporary turning lane to get on the Causeway. It's a bitch because I lose five minutes slowly rolling to the light. What pisses me off is cars like this cute blue one. Instead of waiting in the long-ass line, these drivers speed in the lane next to the turning lane, pass everyone and then cut over at the last minute. On Thursday, this blue car became the fourth of five drivers to cut directly in front of me as the light neared. I understand this may be necessary every now and again (i.e. not realizing you need to be in this left lane until the last second), but it happens almost every day. How fucking inconsiderate do you have to be? As mom would say: "It takes real balls to do that shit." Yeah. And no soul.

The second incident happened Saturday night as I was trying to get home to catch CP13 and Co. win gold. OK. So maybe this isn't the greatest picture. And I see that I need to clean my windshield. But that cab up ahead of me had my temperature a boiling. The son of a bitch goes around me on River Road near St. Charles. Now, River Road is a two-way street with one lane going each way. I was driving my standard eight miles over the speed limit when the SOB passed. Then, he is in front of me from the Jefferson Parish line all the way to the Wal-Mart on Jeff. Highway. Here's the catch: He started driving five miles below the speed limit and hitting his breaks every 100 to 150 feet for no apparent reason. There was no red light. There was no other car in our lane. He didn't turn. I'm thinking he was drunk. Or maybe just a normal cab driver.

There ought to be some type of law against this shit. Citizen's arrest, anyone?

WARNING: THE GENE POOL = TAG BODY SPRAY

For all the fellows out there reading this, you might want to take a lesson from Derry. You see, Derry showed da wife (soon to be renamed) The Gene Pool one day, and she got hooked. Now she reads it more than him and cracks up constantly while Derry sits there watching the Cubs. We could be headed for the first divorce in history that will be blamed on a Web site. Wait, I mean blog. I'm sure Internet porn has caused at least one divorce.

Poor guy, he couldn't take it anymore and wrote this blog entry expressing his jealousy: http://cmmsh.blogspot.com/2008/08/got-my-eye-on-you.html

So don't let your significant other see this site, guys. You don't want her splitting time between you and catching up on my whacky life and the daily rants of my saintly mother. As for you, Derry: There, there. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Admitting ya'll have a problem is the first step toward fixing it. Oh, and thanks for feeding the ego. I know I reek of awesomeness, but it's good to hear somebody say it (or write it on the Internet) every now and again.

MY WEEKLY CUBS THOUGHTS

-- One of the greatest things ever happened Tuesday afternoon to me. I'm watching my tape of wrestling from Monday night live from Chicago, and who is sitting in the front row taking in the action? Dumpster, Howry and Fontenot. That was totally awesome.

-- Edmonds has fallen off a bit, eh? He is hitless in his past 17 at-bats. I once thought he could win the NL MVP because he had that big of an impact when he got hot for like two months.

-- That series during the week against the Reds was ugly for our offense. Yuck.

-- MVP of the Week #1: Mark DeRosa. De-Ro has hit a homer in four consecutive games. Who would have guessed he would have one less homer than D-Lee at this point?

-- Good October sign of the week: The Cubs have been really good in rubber games of series. I actually forgot the number, but I think it is now eight wins in rubber games in a row.

-- We became the first team in the majors to reach 80 wins on Sunday. The Red Sox were that team last year and won the World Series. A WGN poll showed 87 percent of fans think the team will reach 100 wins. Well, the Cubbies are on pace for exactly 100, but I don't think it will happen because there are too many road games in September, including a 16-of-23 stretch.

-- Fukudome's homer Sunday gives me hope he can be useful down the stretch.

-- I sang along with the 7th-inning stretch for the first time all season Sunday. That is weird.

-- I don't like WGN's Fan Cam that it uses in the ninth inning. All it ever shows is pretty girls in the crowd. I mean it should show pretty girls. But how about also showing me a baby or a kid with cotton candy on his face or a dad and his son or an old couple or a guy with his shirt off. It's Fan Cam, not let's see how many hotties the cameraman can find today. Sick freak.

-- MVP of the Week #2. Rich Harden. Eat your heart out CC Sabathia. Harden won two games this week, going 14 innings and allowing one run while striking out 21. Part of the reason Oakland let him go was that he was bad in August. Oops.

PARTING SHOTS

On AIM, I tell AGG I once made a move on a girl that she's looking at on facebook. AGG says she's cute. I say she didn't seem like a skank.

AGG: Then feel free to make a move again, if it arises.

AGG: oooo bad choice of words.

"Hey, pussy bitch!"

- A guy from his car at the corner of Freret and Jefferson to four young ladies walking from Tuck's to their car. Seemed like a real nice guy.

The Redeem Team gives me a heart attack but pulls out the gold medal. I had this theory that Spain might win because the Spaniards have won everything this summer: Euro Cup, the Tour de France, Wimbledon, the French Open. I get this text from Liam at game's end:

Maybe it ain't Spain's year after all. (Quick thought on the gold-medal game: I felt like I was watching a combination of an NCAA Tournament game between a 5 seed and a 12 seed (based on the emotion, especially from both benches) and an NBA All-Star Game (based on the lack of defense).

THE DAILY TOP LIST

To prepare for the upcoming season, here are my five favorite Saints players. Please keep in mind, I'm 24.

5) Morten Andersen. Kicker.

He had a house in Harahan, and I would ride my bike in his neighborhood.

4) Sammy Knight. Safety.

Played the game sort of like I played flag football: as a ball hawk.

3) Deuce McAllister. Running back.

The image of him carrying Eagles defenders in that playoff game is burned in my memory.

2) Joe Horn. Wide receiver.

I think the best receiver in Saints history. It seems to me that as years go by, people will forget how good he was and just remember his cocky attitude (which I didn't mind), that he was injury-prone and that he left on a bad note.

1) Drew Brees. Quarterback.

The savior of the franchise. I wear his jersey on game days. He's the only other quarterback I've ever really liked besides Dan.

FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

After finishing work and my blog Friday night, I headed out to meet Chuck and the Uptown ladies for a drink at Miss Mae's. Since the start of my college days, I have become quite familiar with Miss Mae's. It's always in the paper when it lists the top places in the city to drink. I've heard the Uptown ladies, especially Gillie, speak of it like it was "fucking Mecca." While I was on campus, I often overheard people discussing going there or what happened there to them the night before.

Except by some strange miracle, I had never stepped foot in the establishment. The Uptown ladies were aghast. Gillie: "How could you have never been here? It's like we're not even friends. Who are you?" (At right: See the girl in the black? She and her friends are regulars at Bruno's. Paul likes to point out when she walks into the bar. We're kind of obsessed with her even though neither of us finds her very attractive. She bobs around to every song that comes on at Bruno's. She also giggles a lot.)

As a whole, I came away liking this Miss Mae's. Nice setup. Couple of pool tables. And the best drink special ever: $1 well drinks 24-7. Is it possible to get drunk for cheaper? Shame on me for not taking advantage of this in college.

Sometime around 1:30 a.m., somebody in the group suggests we score some grub. We head over to Camelia Grille because Kaila says it closes at 3 a.m. Four of the seven of us are standing outside at 1:50 a.m. The guy who seats people comes outside.

GWSP: Is this ya'lls whole group?

Gillie: No. We have three more coming.

GWSP: Well, are they close? Because I'm closing the door in ten minutes. (I guess Kaila was wrong about that 3 a.m. closing time.) And no one will be allowed in there after that.

Gillie: No. They are close.

GWSP: They better hurry. And ya'll better come in right now and order.

Chuck, Jenna and Gillie don't eat because, well, they weren't hungry. They sit down on the couch to hang out and be near the beautiful people, like me, who are eating.

GWSP: So you three are not eating?

Gillie: No. We're just going to hang out.

GWSP: OK. But understand you can't change your mind. We're closing t

he kitchen in two minutes, and you won't be able to order. So don't go changing your mind. I won't be able to help you.

Gillie: OK. We won't.

At left: Chuck, Jenna and Gillie moved from the couch to seats by Stu, one of Gillie's friends visiting from Virginia. He had to sit away from Kaila, me and Johnny (other friend of Gillie's) because of the crowd and the place closing soon. At right: This is the scene on the way to the bathroom at Camelia Grille. You pass the area where they clean the pots and pans and then this area. As Jenna said as we walked to our respective restrooms: "I don't think we should be back here." She's right. It seems like the area should be for employee's only. But I guess they don't have any other choice.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Mom is talking about Tropical Storm Fay. "Fucking Florida is flooded."
Mom found two funny stories in the paper. In the first one, a guy with a half a pound of weed in a backpack had the backpack stolen. He tells the police his bag with $400 was stolen. The cops catch the robbers. The guy who reported it got arrested for having weed and filing a false report. "If that was me, I would have just said, 'I'm fucked out of a half a pound of weed.' What a stupid ass. They got some funny shit in the paper."

In the second story, a 60-something-year-old man was arrested for having child porn on his computer. "The dick tells the cop he didn't know that was illegal."

BRINGING POLLUTION DOWN TO ZERO

Some time ago, Harahan stopped picking up recycling to make extra 

room in the budget. You know, if we stop trying to save the earth, those other things we're spending money on won't be worth a damn with no livable land. Anyway, to do my part to keep the world going, I've been collecting my water bottles I use at work on the passenger floor of my car. On my way to Miss Mae's Friday night, I dumped this load off in Chuck's recycling bin outside his house. I put 14 bottles in the recyling. Later, I noticed I missed one. Hope you don't mind, Chuckles.

My mom is not a fan of me stocking up bottles in my car. She noticed the stack the other day: "What are you doing with all these water bottles? Nobody can put their fucking feet down in your car."

DAMN. COLLEGE FOOTBALL STARTS SOON.

1) Lou Holtz still is employed by ESPN. I can't comprehend this. He is the worst talking head in the history of ESPN. He's old. You can't understand him most of the time. And he thinks he's the PR guy for Notre Dame. He picks them to win every game, including against Southern Cal last season. Mark May should be canonized as a saint for only rolling his eyes and not punching him square in the face. Today, I'm watching that College show they have. He is picking the Irish to win 11 games this year. C'mon. The only explanation I can think of for him still being there: ESPN knows he sucks, and they think it helps ratings to have people loving to hate him.

2) On the same show, Kirk Herbstreit picked Florida to win (and I quote) "its second national championship in three years." See that, Marcus? Herbstreit uses "my math." 

PARTING SHOTS

Jelly is reading over the news in briefs for page 2.

Jelly: Some no name won a tennis tournament. What am I supposed to put in the headline: Seedless so-and-so wins?
Derry: You can. Just don't tell his wife.


"I'm going to go engrave my name on the door in stone and bang my head on it."

- BRAVES MAN to Jelly while I was listening in. That poor man has had it rough with the Braves this season. By the way, we've learned two new tidbits about him recently: 1) His wife works at the Golden Corral and 2) He's a softball coach (keep in mind, he has poor eyesight.)

On Friday night, the GWSP also chimed in on Michael Phelps.

"All he needs to do to be rich is sell those fucking gold medals. Then he can fucking retire."

THE DAILY TOP LIST
As promised recently, my favorite TV theme songs. I have 80 of these babies on my iPod. I narrowed it down to the top 11.

11) Saved by the Bell.
"Ridin' low in my chair, she won't know that I'm there; if I can hand it (homework) in tomorrow, it'll be all right."

10) The Odd Couple.

9) Still Standing.
"You can read me baby like an open book; stop me dead in my tracks with only just one look."

8) Family Ties.
"What would we do baby without us?"

7) Psych.
"In between the lines, there's a lot of obscurity; I'm not inclined to resign to maturity."

6) Welcome Back Kotter.
"Yeah, we tease him a lot cuz we got him on the spot; Welcome back."

5) The King of Queens.
"But I don't care cuz all I want to do; is cash my check and drive right home to you."

4) Friends
"It's like you're always stuck in second gear; when it hasn't been your day, your week, your month or even your year."

3) The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
"When a couple of guys who were up to no good; started making trouble in my neighborhood."

2) Cheers.
"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got; taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot."

1) Sanford & Son.
Also TV's favorite theme. I've seen characters on other shows do this theme countless times. Marcus and D, hope this makes up for the show's rank on the top TV shows list.