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.