LOOK WHO I FOUND

When I left work Monday night, I had a decision to make. Well, first I listened to Jelly express her love, not so much in words though, for Jack Johnson. But then I had a decision to make. Paul was meeting me at my house for around 1 a.m. I could either go home and watch some Monday night television (I had taped six shows) or I could kill the time at the casino. Because I didn't make it to Harrah's last week, I decided to gamble for an hour and a half. 

I'm cruising down Canal Street when I catch a red light. I think it was at Baronne. I'm looking at the passers by while waiting for the light to change. I'm a little antsy thanks to my gambling itch. My eyes move up the street, and I see two familiar people walking in my direction. I was more excited than Kelly when they bring out the bread at Olive Garden.   

OK. So I didn't get a good picture. As soon as I noticed the couple, I began scrambling through my bag for my camera. I took a quick shot, but you couldn't see shit. I deleted that picture, but now the couple is almost past me. Not to mention (sorry T-P kids, I couldn't resist) the light was about to change, and there were cars behind me. 

I decided this second shot was good enough. What was I going to do? Make a U-turn and follow them to their car? Pull up next to them and ask them to say cheese? Paul saw this Hall of Fame photograph and said: "Couldn't you have at least rolled the window down?" Good suggestion. I think I was too giddy and in too much of a hurry to use any of my five trillion brain cells. If I had rolled down the window, however, I could have called out to them and invited them to hang out at the casino. Would have been an interesting interaction.

Wait. I almost forgot. I didn't tell you who is in the picture. That, my friends, is Ashley and her gay boyfriend. Though he didn't look so gay in person. Of course, I was 50 feet away. I recognized her right away by her bright smile. Then, I remembered reading her facebook status for the past week. She was counting down the days until she was going to the Maroon 5 concert Monday night. Maybe I should have been off work and gone to the concert myself. I like that band.

You could tell she had had a good time at the show. I also noticed that the two of them were not holding hands. I estimate that 90-95 percent of couples who walk together down Canal Street are holding hands. There was a couple behind them holding hands, and I saw another couple holding hands and making out a few blocks later. Hmm.

Ash (that's what I call her for short) was wearing a magenta dress. I like that color. Perhaps this whole ordeal really is a part of my destiny. And me seeing her randomly Monday night is just the latest chapter. I'll let you know if any further developments take place.

 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I'm pretty sure my mom was watching As the World Turns when I woke up Tuesday. "It's about fucking time. He's (main bad guy) dead again. When are they going to learn, though. You need to drive a fucking stake through his heart."

Mom wears headphones when watching her programs while I'm sleeping. Very thoughtful. "Damn, I've been wearing these fucking headphones for eight hours." 

Mom and I are watching Two and 3/4 Men. Mom is upset at Allen. "Fucking living there for free all those years, and he's worried about fucking $38. What a dick."

I leave the room real quick to jot down that curse and miss the next joke. Mom is upset. "You're missing the whole fucking show." (For Lopes and Marcus: I never missed it when RVD did his thing.)

I got Gillie and Brian's save the date in the mail. Nice work, guys. Mom is foreign to the concept still. "I ain't never heard of that. (I tell mom they put a lot of work into the presentation.) You still have to pay someone to print them. And then spend 40 cents on every fucking envelope."

I used mom's VCR to tape Heroes. It messed up and didn't tape. "What the fuck? It has got to be that fucking sunglasses symbol. ... I have no fucking idea."

Mom tries to sum up my life in five words. 

Mom: TV. T-P. Sports. Wrestling. Poker. 

Me: What about sleeping?

Mom: Oh yeah. Anyone who sleeps more than six fucking hours is sad.

I ask mom where a certain item went. She says she threw it out. "That's the only way to get rid of your shit. Like the pants with the fucking holes. I threw that shit out last week."

FANTASY FEVER

My two fantasy teams are going in opposite directions. The Dos Agateers (2-2) lost for the second week in a row. Brady is already out. And our second best player (Brian Westbrook) missed last week. We got blown out. I'm worried about the team. DeSean Jackson is our most dependable receiver. Trent Edwards is our quarterback. Oh boy.

The Gene Poolers (4-0) scored the most points in the league last week. I already had the most points in the league through three weeks. My team is so good that my three bench players (Tony Romo, Earnest Graham and Larry Johnson) combined to beat several other teams by themselves in Week 4. If I don't make the money, I'm never playing fantasy again. Ever. 

PARTING SHOT

I call Lopes after snapping the picture of Ashley.

Me: Guess who I just saw walking down Canal?

Lopes: Megan?

Me: No. But that's sort of close. 

Lopes: Ashley?

Me: Yup.

Lopes: That's some crazy shit.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top five things that happened to me in September. 

5) Mom's reaction to canceling school due to Ike.

You remember that comment, right? Something about little boys and their instrument.

4) The not-happening 3 Doors Down concert.

Paul and I went all the way to Lafayette for nothing. Ha. Ha.

 

3) Attending both Saints home games.

Saints record when I'm there: 2-0. Saints record when I'm not there: 0-2.

2) Hanging in Baton Rouge for Gustav.

The storm ended up being worse there than at my house. Not having power sucked. It seems like Gustav happened a lot longer ago than the beginning of the month.

1) The whole Ashley debacle.   

From not getting her number to not getting a response to my message on facebook to seeing her on Canal on Monday, this situation dominated the headlines in The Gene Pool.

THE GENE POOL MOVIE: PART IV.

I'm starting to worry about actors' egos on the set. We have a lot of big stars and will need many individual trailers. Since this film seems to have an unlimited budget, maybe I can hire Chuck Norris to keep the peace. This is also the penultimate edition of casting. Today's installment consists of people I've known since at least high school or associate with now through people I've known since at least high school.

PAUL: Jason Alexander. Paul's favorite show is Seinfeld on which Alexander starred as George. Both George and Paul have struggled with women over the years. Plus, Paul might be losing his hair. Runner-up: Kevin Smith.

BERT: Kevin James. Neither has ever been bashful around food. In several episodes of King of Queens, James goes on a diet to trim down. Bert has done so many times and pretty successfully with Atkins recently. Both of them have upbeat senses of humor and make me laugh consistently. Runner-up: The ever-busy Gene Pool star Seth Rogen (for the curly hair).

MINKUS: Daniel Radcliffe. Radcliffe plays Harry Potter, worshiped by nerds, geeks and dorks around the world. Depending on your definition, Minkus might be all three of those rolled into one. They both wear spectacles. And Paul tells me that Harry Potter tried to get with an Asian. Runner-up: The original Minkus.

KELLY: Sarah Chalke. This will be an easy gig for Chalke. All she has to do is play the Elliot Reed character from Scrubs. Elliot and Kelly can go from super excited to down in the dumps in the snap of a finger. Their bangs get in their hair. Look, she even came to my 24th birthday party dressed like the doctor. Runner-up: That little girl from Little Miss Sunshine.

DAVID: Seth Green. In Can't Hardly Wait, Seth's character thinks he's gangsta like Johan Santana. David often acts and talks like he's a gangsta. Both are short and feisty. David's father, however, is not an evil genius. But we won't let that stop the casting. Runner-up: Matt Damon (see Allen).

JACOB: Jack Black. Jacob fancies himself a younger Jack Black. He quotes Black fairly often and has Black's CD memorized. They are both stocky and rock crazy-ass facial hair. Runner-up: Jeff Bridges as The Dude. 

ALLEN: Ryan Reynolds. These fellows are both tall and heartthrobs. They share a similar sarcastic sense of humor. Runner-up: Ben Affleck (See David).

BONES: Michael Richards. Both are tall, lanky and sort of disgusting. As Kramer, Richards once turned his apartment into a smoking den. Bones smokes a pack a sitting. Kramer and Bones have gotten around, if you know what I mean. Runner-up: Is Joe Camel alive?.

DAD: Harrison Ford. When I was a kid, I always imagined my dad as a hero. He told me he could flick off the light switch and be comfortably in bed before the light went out. I believed him and would try at night to do it myself. Ford is the ultimate hero. Perfect match. Runner-up: Tom Selleck (almost cast as Indiana Jones).

MOM: Marissa Tomei. Both are beautiful Italian firecrackers. Marissa got her start on As the World Turns. My mom watches that show every day. Plus, Marissa has had practice cursing in My Cousin Vinny. "Bam, a fucking bullet rips off part of your head ... Now I ask you, would you give a fuck what kind of pants the son of a bitch who shot you was wearing?" Mom thinks that movie is "fucking hilarious." Runner-up: Wanda Sykes. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is not a big fan of our light bill. "We can't even pay the fucking light bill."

DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know that there is only one October? Yup. It only comes once a year. There aren't two or three or 658. There is only one. I swear it's just the one. I learned this last year during the one October of 2007. This Major League Baseball campaign for the playoffs is annoying and moronic. No shit October comes once a year. So does January, February, etc. So does Christmas, Easter, Halloween, etc. There is only one daylight savings time. Wait. Scratch that one. But plenty of things come once a year. That doesn't show how the baseball playoffs are special. It just shows that the playoffs are a lot like other things. 

I wasn't sure if the campaign would continue this season or be replaced. The other day I saw a commercial with the same theme. Good. Because I thought they might forget that there is, in fact, only one October and the bitch starts Wednesday. 

At least, it will be just October this year. And not Rocktober. Next year, they might have to change the campaign. I think the World Series may end in November. Did you know that there is only one first week of November?

PARTING SHOTS

I'm at the casino after work. I guy sits next to me with a regular Cubs hat on. A Six Beers a few spots over looks over at him. 

"Is that Cleveland or Chicago?"

I couldn't believe somebody could confuse a Cubs hat with something else. I figure he just had no clue about sports. But then 10 minutes later, he looks at my Dolphins hat. "Hey. We're rivals. I'm from Buffalo."

Retro quote: September 29, 2004

Kelly Brown meets some Marooners while we're watching Jeopardy! We'll all juniors and seniors.

Kelly (leaving the office): So, Darren, are you a freshman?

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top five times I've been present and felt bad for somebody. Not counting major tragedies such as death and hurricanes. Sorry for the painful memories conjured up here.

5) I forget the kid's name. Summer 1995.

I helped my dad coach an 8-year-old baseball team. I was hitting ground balls to the infielders when I accidentally smacked a kid in the face with the bat on my follow through. There was blood everywhere. Luckily, there was no major damage. Yeah. Luckily.

How I helped: I apologized profusely, and I got the bag of ice.

4) Chuck. April 2004.

Chuck and I watched the national championship between UConn and Georgia Tech. It was a blowout, but Ga. Tech started to make a comeback. Poor Chuck got a little excited and thought it might happen for the Yellow Jackets. It didn't.

How I helped: I sat there and helped him finish off a bottle of whiskey.

3) Johnny. February 2002.

In the infamous Brother Martin 3-0 state quarterfinals loss, the Saders scored their second goal (and really the game-ender) off a mistake by Johnny, who was my best friend on the team. He had the ball up near midfield as we were making a push to tie the score. Unfortunately, he tripped and fell. A Sader got the ball, there was no other defender back and the Sader beat the goal keeper. Ballgame. 

How I helped: I pick him up off the ground and rubbed his head for encouragement. 

2) Lisa. August 2005.

Lisa and I went to a Slackers party after a game one night. She left her car at my house. When we were on our way back, Lisa got a distress call from her mother. She was freaked out after getting called by the cops to report to the scene of an accident. Turns out, Lisa's car was totaled by a drunk driver. They caught him because they followed the trail of gas his car began spilling after the hit-and-run. My mom slept through most of the incident, despite two fire trucks and four cop cars being in front of our house with their lights flashing.

How I helped: A big hug and a bottle of water. 

1) Paul. September 2005.

I came back from a wild night at the bar in Baton Rouge to find Paul curled up on the couch sobbing. His fiancee had just given him the ring back and ended it after three-plus years. It wasn't a pretty sight.

How I helped: I held him and let him cry on my shoulder.

AT HOME IN THE DOME AND WE READY TO PLAY

Last Tuesday was a bad ticket day for me. Not only did I find out the 3 Doors Down concert was postponed after driving two and a half hours to Lafayette, but I also learned that Paul had bought two tickets to the Saints game and had no intention of inviting me. His first option was Michelle (which would make it their fifth date), and his second option was Jacob, whose birthday is Monday. I don't think the fourth date (which was Wednesday) ended well, so Jacob got the nod.

My being upset about not getting invited caused a heated argument in Baton Rouge. (No lovers' quarrels jokes, please.) He said something about he had planned to take me to the Vikings game on Monday night. Well, I'm working for that. Besides, taking Michelle or Jacob means having to eat the money he paid for the ticket. I would have paid for it.

I think the ticketmaster gods felt bad and decided to make it up to me. On Saturday afternoon at 12:30, I was half-awake when the phone rang. It was JRap.

JRap: Hey, Gene. How would you like to go to the Saints' game tomorrow? 

Me: Of course. You can't say no to that. 

The tickets belong to JRap's father, Mike, who was Rex in 2005. So I went to the Saints-49ers game with JRap, his father and his mother, Kay, and sat in the 500 section. Take that, Paul. Hope you enjoyed your lousy 600 section seats.

Before I left to meet the Rapiers at the TP, I told my mom I was heading off to the Saints game. I had not told her I was going yet. Big mistake. "Why'd you make me take out all this shit to cook?"

I arrived about 15 minutes ahead of the Rapiers. To pass the time, I called my dad to chat. I also played a long-standing TP game when there is an event at the Dome. We count the cars that pass our building thinking they are taking a short cut around the interstate only to find that it is a dead end. On Sunday, I counted 13 cars. In this shot, you can see I caught three at the same time (not counting my car, which is that pretty one in the front). If you're looking for the third car, it is a blue truck behind the tree.

Hanging out with the Rapiers on Sunday afternoon made me feel like the Fonz, sans a leather jacket and the ability to start a jukebox with my fist. JRap is a journalist, and Richie Cunningham went off to college to study journalism. Plus, Happy Days is his favorite show. I fought back the urge to call his mom Mrs. R.

We got to our seats just in time to see the 49ers enter Saints territory on their first drive. The fine people in our section informed us that Deuce had been in on one play in the Saints' first series but didn't touch the ball. That's a start, I thought. Before I sat down, I located Deuce on the sideline. There he was stretching with his helmet in his left hand touching the ground. That is the way Deuce always looks on the sideline, especially early in the game. I saw him doing that about three or four times during the Bucs game. 

When Deuce trotted on the field for the second series, took the handoff and pushed the pile for 5 yards, all felt right with the world. Look out NFL, the Deuce is loose again.

After Porter sacked John Thomas O'Sullivan for an 8-yard loss with 2:50 remaining in the first half, Payton challenged that it was a fumble. It was actually a pretty brilliant move. He knew the play would probably be upheld, but he figured why not take a shot. He wanted to use a timeout anyway to give the offense another chance to score. 

Watching the replay at home, it seemed like a fumble, but the 49ers recovered. Oh well. (Note: The Saints did score at the end of the half.) The color commentator's response after the play was upheld: "That one's confusing to me. I don't know why Sean Payton would challenge it if San Francisco recovered it anyway. ... That one surprises me." I should send him an e-mail.

You can see the ref making a note as he leaves the replay booth. I think he wrote: "What a waste of my time. That wasn't even close. Just for that, if the Saints make another challenge, I'm upholding the ruling on the field no matter what."

This guy, we'll call him First-Down Man, is the clear section leader in 545. Every time the Saints make a first down, he stands up and points the way, as you can see. For bigger first downs, he added more theatrics. I feel like I should sit in every section of the Superdome and compile a list of all the section leaders. Two sections down, how many more to go?

You can't ask for much more on a Sunday than a Saints win. It was also nice to meet the Rapiers, who I've heard a good deal about over the years at dinner from JRap. My favorite part was when the couple, in the 48th year of marriage, was arguing about whether or not they've attended a Tulane game at Air Force Academy. Mike said no. Kay said yes. They went back and forth until Mike said: "Oh dear. The young man (that's me) in the back is going to think we need a marriage counselor."

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is worried about her name being out there on the Internet. "They say you can google anybody's fucking name. My name better not be in that fucking computer." (If she only knew.)

Mom is in the kitchen as I'm waking up and getting ready for the Saints game. "Got to fucking (something) sometime."

SEAN PAYTON OWNS THE 49ERS

Notes on the Saints in Week 4.

1) The winning play.

The momentum was shifting to the 49ers. They were in an almost six-minute drive and in the red zone. They had trimmed their deficit to 21-9 and then got a punt from the Saints to start the third quarter. That's when Kaesviharn made a hell of an interception in the end zone. If the 49ers score on that drive, the score is 21-16, and they have all the momentum. It was a bad throw. John Thomas O'Sullivan should have thrown it away and gone to third down. Thanks, guy. 

2) More praise for the defense.

-- Grant was a menace all game. Bout time he started earning that money.

-- Porter is the real deal.

-- When was the last time the defense created three turnovers in a game? I don't know. But the announcer did tell me that the Saints have 11 games in a row with at least one takeaway. I wouldn't have guessed that. Also, it's the fifth longest current streak in the league.

-- The D-line had John Thomas O'Sullivan shaking in his little space boots. 

-- One beef: The unit can't stop the run to the left. The D got carved up by it against Washington. Tampa and San Fran did it too but just not enough. I see Peterson with 200 yards Monday night. 

 

3) This comes from Lopes: Devery has to be the NFL career leader in one catch, 80-yard games. I'd have to agree with that. Speaking of Devery, I noticed another flaw in his game while watching the replay. He can't block. He's horrible. Twice Red Meat ran to the outside, and Devery's man just went right around him to make the play. 

4) Red Meat didn't do much Sunday. Hey, I didn't say he'd be the bomb every week. I'll give you two positives, anyway.

-- He made a nice 10-yard run on third-and-10. Later on the drive, Moore caught his second TD pass to give the Saints a 14-3 lead.

-- After Deuce scored, who was the first to congratulate him? Red Meat. And in a feel-good moment, he slapped Deuce on the helmet three times. 

5) All hail Moore and Meachem. 

-- Meachem knows how to use his body to make catches. And clearly, he can just run by the defense. He's really starting to make the Saints look good on using a first-round pick on him. I always thought he would come around. I remember watching him torch LSU. 

-- Moore is doing a heck of a job replacing Colston. He catches everything thrown his way. He just needs to work on that touchdown dance. Ugh.

-- I think we need to give more credit to these two guys. We give an awful lot of credit to Brees. Sure, he's making the throws (plenty are underthrown). But these guys are getting the great separation. 

MY WEEKLY CUBS THOUGHTS

-- I took the week off watching the Cubs. I'm saving all my energy for October. 

-- I agreed with Lou's playoff rotation. That's how (Dumpster, Big Z, Harden, Lilly) I would have set it up. I like the idea of Big Z not starting Game 1 to avoid him being too hyped up. 

-- I switched my Cubs bracelet to my right hand Sunday afternoon.

-- Did I care if they played the Mets or Dodgers first? No. I wasn't worried about who they play in the first round. If they are the best team, they'll beat whoever they play. Plus, Santana twice in a five-game series is super scary.

-- In my TP predictions in April, I was one of the only predictors in the country not to pick Arizona to make the playoffs or the Mets to make the playoffs. I might have been the only one to have neither team make it. I picked the Phillies to win the NL.

-- There are two possible starting lineups the Cubs can go with in terms of the fielders. There are about 131 possible batting orders. Here's what I like for Game 1: Soriano (LF), Theriot (SS), Lee (1B), Ramirez (3B), Edmonds (CF), Soto (C), DeRosa (2B), Fukudome (RF). I like Fuku's defense for the playoffs. Plus, he's patient in that eight-hole. My other option: Soriano, DeRosa (RF), Lee, Ramirez, Soto, Fontenot (2B), Johnson/Edmonds (CF), Theriot. (The Dodgers don't have a left-handed starter.)

-- For shits and giggles, my NL awards.

Rookie of the Year: Soto. 

Manager of the Year: Cecil Cooper.

Cy Young: Tim Lincecum. 

MVP: CC Sabathia. 

Argument for CC: To me, the definition of the award is the player that is the most valuable to his team being successful, which means a playoff team. That is CC. He had a 1.65 ERA in 17 starts (11-2). He led the NL in shutouts. He won three consecutive games at the end of the season, the latter two on three days' rest. He's the reason the Brewers made the playoffs. 

PARTING SHOTS

After the game and before work, JRap and I went to Bud's on Calhoun. I figure now is a good time to clear up that the No. 7 at Bud's can be considered my top fast food order, but I don't count Bud's as fast food. I think of Bud's as an experience. That clear it up, Max? Anyway, we're in line behind a group of six Saints fans. They are all wearing jerseys. I have a hat on and my Brees jersey. A clueless guy enters the building and stands in line behind us.

Captain Clueless: Is the Saints game over?

JRap: Yes. We just came from it.

Capt. Clueless: Oh. Did they win?

JRap: Yes. 31-17.

CC: Oh, man. I should have turned the game on at the shop. What time they start? 11?

JRap: Noon.

CC: Oh, OK. Yeah. That's right. Home games are at noon. Road games are at 3.

Retro quote: September 28, 2004 (a Tuesday)

We're eating lunch in the cafeteria.

Brian: When does King of Queens come on?

Me: It starts tomorrow night.

Brian: What night is that?

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five Adam Sandler movies.

5) I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. 2007.

Yeah. We're both big, uh, fruits.

4) Anger Management. 2003.

That Sixers fan was hilarious.

3) Billy Madison. 1995.

R u going to the mall after school?

2) The Waterboy. 1998.

You better not be playing the foosball.

1) Big Daddy. 1999.

A comedic classic with a big heart. Excuse me. I have to go call my dad.

SLOPPY SECONDS: MY FIRST IDEA FOR THE LSU HEADLINE 

After that performance against State, I really hope LSU doesn't get ranked No. 2 in the new poll. Sure it would be great to be in that spot. The Tigers, however, don't deserve it. If they are No. 2, that just shows me how little the voters pay attention to games. But because LSU got off to a 17-3 lead and the game was never in doubt, I think they'll put them at No. 2.

Who deserves to be No. 2 behind the Sooners? Missouri? They ain't beat nobody. Nope. The answer is, gulp!, Nick Satan's Crimson Tide. For all that arguing, Marcus, LSU can still play the No. 2 team in the country. They'll probably both lose before that game, though. 

Quick thoughts on Saturday's game.

1) I wasn't sold on Lee after the Auburn game. The State game proved me correct. He consistently (I estimate 10 times) threw behind receivers. Especially on the interception. He threw behind and high to Dickson. I'm in favor of a platoon system with a healthy Hatch.

2) Brandon LaFell is a stud. I was ready to just cut his ass last year. Now I'm not sure if he returns for his senior season. He's getting open. He's catching everything thrown in his vicinity. He's making people miss and picking up a lot of extra yards after the catch.

3) Charles Scott is a tough son of a bitch. I can't say enough good things about him. He might be the best I've seen at LSU. 

4) For the record, Derry, I don't think Dickson should get a TD reception. I agree with what you were saying. It just seemed like they are saying they got the stat from an NCAA rule book. I'm just trying to get it right. Cool?

5) LSU looked like a JV team in the second and fourth quarter. The only thing the Tigers did right in the even quarters was Byrd's long touchdown. Good throw. Good catch. Good run. Bad everything else. State had huge running lanes. There was no pressure (once again from that supposed super talented line). Receivers were wide open. We couldn't get first downs. We had two turnovers. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is reading the story about the Causeway officer who was going 112 mph. "They give him a fucking citation. If that would have been my ass, I would have been in fucking jail." (Not two minutes later:) "My ass would have been in fucking jail."

Mom is worried about one of her favorite shows. "When's fucking Nip Tuck start? I can't find a commercial or anything. Like it fucking fell off the face of the Earth."

Mom is really concerned with the financial state of our country. She's panicking. 

-- "Even fucking Oprah is moving her fucking money."

-- "That's the big joke. Put it under the fucking mattress like the old fucking people used to do."

-- (After I say something about bailouts.) "What do you think is in your fucking savings account? Fucking cash!"

CUTTING IT CLOSE

This has been my routine on days I work the past few weeks: Start blog at work. Write a little bit of it. Finish shift. Then, either stay late at work to finish or come home, kick back and finish. On Saturday night, however, the blog site wouldn't let me sign in on my work computer. At first, I didn't think anything of it because that happens often. But this time, it didn't eventually let me on.

I forgot about it after the LSU game ended because we had to make the newspaper. When we finished at about 11:25, I started chatting with some co-workers about this and that. At 11:32, I tried to sign in again. Usually, the site works after 9 p.m., but not Saturday. 

Like that old saying goes: When the blogging gets tough, the tough get blogging. And I am tough, dammit. I quickly pack up, cut off a conversation and sprint to my car. You see, if I don't start the blog by midnight, there won't be an entry with that date posted. And, God forbid, the streak would be over. I had 28 minutes to get to my car, get home and get on the site on my laptop, which is always able to log in right away. Who do I talk to at work to fix this problem? 

Me: Yeah. I'm having a problem with this Web site.

Boss: Is it work related?

Me: Um. Yeah. It's work related.

Boss: What's the site? Maybe we can get someone to work on your computer.

Me: It's, um, my blogging site. I have a daily blog. 

Boss (steam coming out of head like in a cartoon): And you're doing it during work time?

Me: Sort of. I kind of just start it here. And write on it when I'm not busy with work stuff.

Boss: Yeah. No. And don't let me ever catch you blogging unless it's on NOLA. 

How serious was I about getting home by midnight? On my way out the building, I didn't stop in the cafeteria to fill up my water bottle. I can't recall the last time I didn't do that. At 11:35, I start my car. It takes me about 20 minutes to get home and another two or three to start my computer and get to the site. I also don't know the time difference between my cell phone and blogspot. 

So I figure I need to leave time to spare. This means speeding home. In my rush, I put it in reverse and hit the gas to back out of my parking space. One problem. There's a car five feet behind me. I turn my head to see where I'm going as I'm backing up. First thing I see is the other car. I slam the breaks and put it in drive. I'm fairly certain I didn't hit the other car. On the way home, the blogging gods were on my side because I didn't catch any of the long lights. 

I made it with five minutes to spare. I have to thank: 1) The police force for not having any officers on my route home; 2) My reflexes for realizing I needed to rush home; 3) My ability to go against my natural instinct at the end of work, which is to yak for a long while with co-workers. Just think what else could be possible, if I, but a simple blogger, can overcome all the odds in such dire conditions to do Saturday's entry. World peace. Universal health care. Britney Spears resurrecting her career. 

PARTING SHOTS

D is talking to Jelly about going to Saints games.

Jelly: I was on kiss cam once.

D: It was your husband, huh?

D is reading a prep story.

D: Is it Grace King or just King?

Derry: I always say Grace.

Marcus: I bet you do.

Marcus is giving me advice on how to deal with Ashley's boyfriend.

"You need to friend him up. Buddy him up and say look here, 'Me and Ashley, we getting it on.' "

This next one really got the office going. We'll be talking about this one for years. Sandy and Marcus are discussing their teamwork on the Harris. Derry chimes in. The "he" is Mike.

Derry: He made me his partner for everything last night.

Derry and I start a feud on whether Dickson's touchdown was a receiving one.

Marcus: OK. Nobody can go until Derry and Gene do a Jump Bump.

Derry: Well, folks. You're going to be here a long time.

Brick: Come on. Start bumping.

Marcus (weirded out): Nevermind. Do goobs. 

Retro quote: September 27, 2004

I'm on my way out of my Parables class when I see the professor talking to Ann, who needed to take a makeup exam, which the professor promised would be tougher than the original.

Dr. Richard: Do you think you can pass this test?

Ann (slightly whimpering): I'm gonna try. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five personal sports victories. 

5) Soccer tournament. 

I've played a lot of soccer games in a lot of leagues, so I'm not quite sure how old I was or in what tournament this game took place. I think it was during 10th grade on my Lafreniere team. We were trailing 2-0 with only five minutes to go. Then we scored. Then I scored one minute later. It was a crazy comeback because a 2-0 lead in soccer with five minutes left is a blowout. 

Our team was jumping up and down like we won. I yelled on the way back to our side. "No. No. One more. We need one more." We got it, too. With about 30 seconds left. That was an insane ending, and with the win, we advanced out of pool play and into the semifinals (a loss). Scoring three goals quick like that to win is like the soccer version of the Bluegrass Miracle.

4) Every basketball title.

When I was 6- 10-years-old, my team won the championship every season and when I was 8, I won two titles because they let me play in the 9-10 league. Of course, I don't have proof of one of those 8-year-old titles because the tape now shows Brandon LaFell scoring the winning touchdown against Auburn.

3) Intramural flag football championship. October 2003.

In my sophomore year of college, the Slackers took the Loyola rec league by storm. In the title game, we beat some frat 20-6. I had two picks and eight receptions (including the final touchdown), but the highlight came from Bones Jackson.

We're up 13-6 in the fourth quarter and trying to bleed the clock. He catches a short pass on a second down, makes two people miss and sprints to the end zone. Nobody is going to catch Bones, but as he slows up near the goal line, he trips and falls at the 1-yard line. Sometimes I don't call him Bones. For a change of pace, I'll say, "What's up, Trips?"

2) Rummel vs. Brother Martin. January 2002.

In my senior year, Rummel, Brother Martin and the Jays were pretty even. The first time we played Martin was at home, and most people thought they would win. We played 100-plus minutes of scoreless soccer to go to penalty kicks. I came the closest to scoring in regulation. I hit the crossbar from right outside the left corner of the penalty box. 

Our goal keeper morphed into a superhuman in penalty kicks. He blocked four of Martin's five kicks. The Saders didn't miss wide or high. He dived and blocked the kicks. He said after he knew where each Sader was aiming before the Sader did. I believed him. 

The TP didn't cover the game. If it was Jesuit, they'd have been out there. 

1) St. Christopher vs. St. Edwards. Fall 1996. 

The city semifinals in the seventh grade, the greatest game in which I played. Hollywood couldn't write a better ending. Matt Liuzza (future LSU catcher, two CWS appearances) was their quarterback. LSU's current best tennis player, Kevin Dessauer, was also playing for St. Edward. They were killing us. Actually, I forget the score, but I know we were down 19 points with five minutes left. 

During a timeout, our assistant coach says: "This isn't over, guys. Hey, pick your heads up. I'm serious. You can still win this. It ain't over yet." We all looked at each other. We believed him. The offense scores quickly. Down 12. On defense, we force a three-and-out, which included an incomplete pass. Still, the clock was on their side. We have all three timeouts.

On our first play, our quarterback drops back and throws a deep pass. Our receiver blows by the defensive back, makes the catch and sprints to the end zone. We're now down by 5 with a little less than a minute left. 

We get another three-and-out on defense and call time out after each play. After the punt, we're pushed pretty far back in our territory WITH 32 SECONDS REMAINING. On the first play, we run the same play as the previous possession. I remember watching this play unfold like it was yesterday. Several St. Edwards' defenders point at our receiver, telling each other to watch out for the same play as before. Uh-oh. The quarterback drops back and throws the ball as far as he can. He must have overthrew our receiver (who was double covered) by 20 yards. 

I take my eyes off the sailing ball to look at our receiver. I just wanted to see how far the QB had overthrown him. What I saw still is the greatest sports moment of my life. The receiver had this crazy, determined look on his face. He wanted the ball. He left the defenders in his dust and outstretched his little arms as far as he could. He catches the ball on the edge of his fingertips and stumbles forward. He keeps his balance and coasts into the end zone. All the St. Edwards' defenders were way behind him, having given up on the ball when they saw that it was way overthrown. The touchdown put us ahead by one.

St. Edwards still had 17 seconds left. On the next play, Liuzza drops back from his 10-yard line (the field was 70 yards) and launches the ball into the end zone. We bat it down. Two seconds left. On the final play, our rusher pulled Liuzza's flag before he could let go of the ball. Ballgame. Thanks for coming.

THE END OF AN ERA? 

I got a disturbing call from Lopes on Tuesday on the way to the non-concert in Lafayette. "I don't quite know how to tell you this, but the jig might be up." I asked what jig, already sensing the answer. He tells me that he went to buy a pack of Skittles for Jelly and him, but after he put in his dollar, the machine said: Please make another selection. Uh-oh. They decided at work that our vendor friend might be on to us.

What Lopes didn't do was type in F4 without inserting money. When you enter a selection without insierting money, the machine tells you how much you need to put in to acquire the item. On Thursday at work, I ventured downstairs to unlock the mystery of the Skittles. Lopes had thought only clicking F4 resulted in the Please-make-another-selection response. But I discovered that the whole row of candy bars yielded the same response. The machine won't give you a price for anything on the F row. It just says Please make another selection.

The vendor came as usual Friday to fill up the machines. However, you still can't buy anything on the F row. The possibile scenarios.

1) The F row not working is a coincidence. It just happened to stop working. On Friday, the vendor only filled up the empty racks with goodies. The people that would fix the F row don't know about it yet. 

If that's true, the Skittles situation becomes: a) When the row is fixed, the fact that the Skittles are five cents aren't noticed. b) When fixing the F row, the person realizes that everything is a dollar but the Skittles and makes the correction.

2) Someone figured out the Skittles faux pas and shut down the row. At some point, the machine will get corrected to make Skittles a dolloar, and the row will be available again.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom doesn't like keeping wood stored in the shed. "I hate wood. You have to worry about fucking termites."

Mom and I are watching Cheers. A drink is served. "What the fuck is that? That's not a martini glass."

I'm finishing the blog when mom comes into the living room half-awake. I tell her about Obama's misstep. "We're going to have an old fart in the fucking White House again."

Mom is anxious to read the paper at 3 a.m. "Where's the fucking paper boy this morning? Dragging his ass?" (In case you didn't know, the paper boy is my dad.)

I ask mom what my daily top list should be. "Fuck."

TV WEEK IN REVIEW

Every Friday during the fall TV season, I'm going to give some thoughts on the week in TV. SPOILER ALERT!

Best scene: Heroes. HRG tries to kill Sylar by putting six bullets in him. The bullets pop out of Sylar's body, and he heals because he has Claire's power. Sylar tells HRG he got that trick from his daughter. An infuriated HRG then tries to shoot him in the head (the only way to kill Sylar now), but Sylar waves his arm and moves the gun out of HRG's hands. Elle tries to stop Sylar, but he subdues her. At the last second, Elle gets off a big bolt of electricity and knocks Sylar out.

Best line: How I Met Your Mother. Barney tries to leave a voicemail on Robin's phone with encouragement from Lily. He gets scared and mumbles something in a high-pitched voice before hanging up mid-sentence. Barney tries to play it off and tells Lily. "It's cool. I left a voicemail." Lily's response: "You left a voice all right. But it certainly wasn't male."

I didn't see that coming: The Office. I really thought Jim would wait until the middle of the season to propose to Pam. Then, those oh-so-clever writers had Jim tell me that he was going to wait until after Pam finished school because they didn't want to be apart for the first three months of the engagement. I admit it. You got me, guys. But what was the point of Pam laughing at that dude's drawing? I thought he was to be the person to cause a rift between Jim and Pam. Maybe he still will.

New show to watch: Worst Week. Mondays at 8:30 central. CBS. I was wondering if I would watch any new shows this season. I answered that about 10 minutes into Worst Week. Yes. Premise: Guy gets girl pregnant. Guy and girl get engaged. Guy and girl try to tell girl's parents, who hate guy. Guy screws up every situation to further piss off parents. In episode one, guy thinks girl's dad died, and so he tells girl and her mother. They cry. But dad wasn't really dead. He was just taking a nap at a funeral home. Guy also showed up to girl's parents' house in a garbage bag. Yeah. You read that right. Funny stuff, I tell you.

I've heard that before: Two and 3/4 Men. Charlie is shocked to learn that condoms aren't 100 percent effective. He says they should write it on the box. He learns that they do. He says it should be in big letters and something something something. Where have I seen this joke before? Hmm. Oh yeah. A season eight episode of Friends when Ross learns that Rachel is pregnant. What a rip off. 

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

If you wear any sort of clothing with writing on it, always make sure you know what it says. If there is something written on the back of your shirt, don't be caught off guard when someone reads it and makes a comment. If you have a hat on, know what it says or what the symbol on it means. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Obama learned this lesson the hard way in Friday's debate. He had to look down at his bracelet because he didn't quite remember the soldier's name. Well, Obama. I have a bracelet, too. In fact, I have seven bracelets. And I know what all of them say. Of

course, none of them came from Green Bay. (At right are my seven bracelets. I'm currently wearing the one for the Cubs (blue) on my left wrist and the one for the Saints (black) on my right. When the playoffs start Wednesday, I'm switching wrists.)

PARTING SHOTS

Lopes gives a sarcastic answer to something.

Shams: "Ya'll are a sarcastic bunch over there."

Liam: "Always. That's the only way to live. This close to getting fired."

I'm writing the blog.

Me: Mom, what curse word do I say the most?

Mom: I don't know. Fuck?

Retro quote: September 26, 2004

I'm at work.

Bob: Is your cousin hot?

Alessa: Yes. Her boyfriend's name is Rhett.

Bob: I didn't say anything about a boyfriend.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five swear expressions.

5) Motherfucker.

Which is different from Tina's Motherfuck.

4) Son of a bitch.

Does that really count?

3) What the fuck?

I get it from my mama.

2) Suck it. 

Been saying that one since 1997.

1) Fuck off.

When someone is aggravating me.

I HOPE THIS DOESN'T COME BACK TO BITE ME IN THE ASS

Two weeks ago I met a girl named Ashley after the Molly's concert. I blew it and didn't get her number. After doing some research, I found her on facebook and requested to be her friend, hoping for a second chance. By last Tuesday, I had given up on her accepting and posted an entry detailing our now infamous encounter.

I also posted a poll asking you the reader if you thought I should send her a link to the entry. In a tight race, No. Don't send the link won 8-7. That was close. I would have done it too. I am here to serve you.

When I got to work last Friday for the first big prep night of the year, I checked my e-mail before the party got started. In my inbox is a message from facebook saying that Ashley accepted me as a friend on Thursday evening. Holy Moses. I grab Lopez by the arm as he's walking by to tell him. He stays, and we glance over Ashley's profile. She likes Scrubs. I like Scrubs. She likes Journey. I like Journey. She has a boyfriend. I have ... Wait a second.

I was reading her movies, music and TV shows. Lopes' eyes went straight to the relationship status. He puts his finger on the screen by her status. "That's not good." And he walks off back to his desk. That was a shot to the gonads. As I'm trying to recover, Marcus yells out, "All right. Meeting in the conference room. Everyone. Let's go."

I had to see him, so after the meeting, I click on Ashley's photos to get a look at the boyfriend. I got a disturbing look. If that dude ain't gay, I'm not a sports fan. Lopes and Liam both agree. He looks like D.J. Qualls (nerdy kid in Road Trip). It appears the relationship has been going for at least three years. He graduated from Nicholls. Don't know where he currently resides. But it seems like a long-distance relationship. Lopes: "Dude, you got this. That is a fake relationship. He is a fake boyfriend. He ain't real. She's looking for something better." Perhaps Lopes is right, I thought. After all, she didn't mention a boyfriend in our conversation.

I sent her a facebook message. Later I thought maybe he is gay, and the relationship status was a playful joke between friends. Like Ha. Ha. You're gay, but this says we're in a relationship. My message read like this: "Hey, it was nice to meet you last Friday at the Molly concert. Unfortunately, our conversation got cut short. If you would like to continue our talk (which I thought was going well), let me know." I couldn't think of a joke to throw in there. Perhaps I should have taken lessons from Dmitri, right Chuck?

I'm posting this entry because she has not responded. I figure no response after six days means to get lost. Paul says I should wait until mid-October because you never know. OK, buddy. But what if she hasn't noticed the message yet, sees it in the next few days and responds positively to it? Then she happens to read through my profile. You can link to this site through my facebook profile. Wouldn't that be some shit?

Seriously, though. She had to know that by accepting me as a friend on facebook that she would then be receiving a message from me. Right? Why accept me as a friend if you don't plan to respond to my message to continue our talk? I just don't get it. Might as well not have friended me at all.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is discussing House with me. We didn't watch it together. "What was with the fucking PI? He was listening in on House? What was the fucking diagnosis? It wasn't really her brain?"

Mom and I went to Best Buy and Wendy's on Thursday afternoon.

We walk outside. Mom sees a page of a newspaper floating in the wind. "Look at the fucking newspaper."

We get in the car. "Fucking September. It's not supposed to be this hot. At least it's cool in the morning."

We are driving down our street. "See that house. Those are the windows (shutter) I wanted. Then I could just roll down the motherfucker."

Mom talks about CBS comedies. On New Adventures of Old Christine: "Fucking Christine is hilarious." On Two and a Half Men: "I laughed when I saw the kid. Looked just like fucking Charlie." (On a side note, they should change the name of that show to Two and 3/4 Men.)

Mom sees a big white bus at K-Mart. "What's a fucking bus doing here? Dropping off shoppers?"

Mom sees a full parking lot at Best Buy. "What the fuck are they giving away?"

Mom is upset that seasons 2 and 3 of Two and a Half Men aren't on sale. "They're not on fucking sale."

On the way home from Wendy's, mom recalls watching 24 for the first time. "I was like fucking shaking. I needed a Xanax."

Back at home, mom is talking about the clerk in Belle Chasse who got caught stealing a winning lottery ticket from a customer. "Fucking clerk. How you think you get away with that? Stealing some one's fucking lottery ticket."

Mom tells me ER is in its 15th season. Damn. "Fifteen fucking years. Jesus."

I ask mom how she feels about the Marinello trial getting pushed back. "That motherfucker. It just keeps getting pushed back until he fucking dies or gets off. Killed that poor fucking woman. Left the child motherless. Fucking old fart."

I'm taping the season premiere of My Name is Earl. I start the recording on the DVR one minute early. "You don't think it's going to fucking start on time?"

INJURIES IS PRONOUNCED IN-JRIES

The injuries have been piling up for the Saints. Lopes and I (mostly Lopes) did a chart in Tuesday's paper of all the Saints who have been hurt this season. We had 22 people in the chart. The Saints have 14 players on the injury report this week. I can't take it no more. Just like this month three years ago, I've been singing Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends." On Thursday, however, I got an idea to change up the words. Hit it, Billy Joe.

Deuce and McKenzie first (Summer has come and passed)
Training camp became a curse (The innocent can never last)
Wake me up when the injuries end

Against Tampa the bug bum (Like my fathers come to pass)
Got to Colston in his thumb (Seven years has gone so fast)
Wake me up when the injuries end

Hamstrings and groins again (Here comes the rain again)
Falling in two games (Falling from the stars)
Shockey's got pain again (Drenched in my pain again)
Rehabbing bloody shame (Becoming who we are)

As the season moves on (As my memory rests)
We'll get better and never quit (But never forgets what I lost)
Wake me up when the injuries end

(Bridge)
(First verse repeat)

The biggest loss so far (Ring out the bells again)
Scott Fujita is a star (Like we did when spring began)
Wake me up when the injuries end

(Repeat third verse)
(Repeat fourth verse)
(Bridge)
(Repeat first verse)
(Repeat second verse)
(Repeat song title two more times)

BOLD PREDICTION OF THE WEEK

This week's craziness comes from the mouth of Derry. "You heard it hear first. Florida is going undefeated." For clarification, that includes the SEC and BCS title games.

PARTING SHOTS
Lopes calls the guy from Venice to do the fishing report.

Venice guy: The wind has been blowing like a porn star.

Oregon State is beating Southern Cal 14-0.

Liam: Man, they are taking it to them.
D: The Beavers. They busy.

Derry is doing the baseball roundup.

Derry: Jon Lester flirted with a no-hitter.
Brick: Does his wife know?

Retro quote: September 25, 2004
It's a crazy night in prep sports.

Christian: Shams is running a tight ship over there.
Tommy: That's the problem. He can't even fit on it.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
The top five shows I refuse to watch. No offense if you watch these.

5) Desperate Housewives.
OK, maybe if the TV is on mute.

4) Ugly Betty.
I've heard great things about this show. It is, however, a chick show. Call me jealous. But in its first season, it was beating The Office in ratings. I won't stand for that kind of behavior.

3) Any reality show.
I hate 'em. I hate 'em. I hate 'em.

2) Grey's Anatomy.
Paul said he heard so many girls blabbering on about this show that he just assumes every girl watches it. I give brownie points for the girls that don't.

1) The Oprah Winfrey Show.
Just because Oprah says to do something, doesn't mean you have to do it. (Bubbles bursting.)

THAT TIME OF THE MONTH

We had our monthly Yat Together on Wednesday at G & B Patio and Grill. We waited until this week because Kevin had just come back into town from Georgia. I can't give away any details to protect the innocent and his identity, but Kev now is part of an organization. Good for him.

The meeting was for 7 p.m. While I'm talking to Minkus on the phone about the off-the-hook season premiere of Heroes, I get text messages from Kelli (6:06) and Christina (6:13) saying they can't make it tonight. That put a quick damper on the evening. If only they didn't have lives. You know, like me. 

The September party crewe (Amanda, Greg, Kevin, myself) powered through the absences to make the best of the evening. I picked G & Bs as a sort of throwback evening. The grill is attached to the bar Madigan's on South Carrollton. Back in my early college days, this was our bar of choice. I spent a good many nights throwing them back with the gang at Madi's. 

Greg and I chat for a solid 15 minutes about the Heroes premiere. So far everyone I've talked to has liked it (if you don't count Lisa's facebook status). Amanda says she loves her new job. Except the one time a teacher thought she was a student and yelled at her for not having on her uniform. Ha. Ha. Kev tells us he has adjusted well to his new schedule. 

Halfway through dinner (I had the cheddar cheese burger), we notice that Amanda is texting an awful lot. She tells us she's texting her cousin who goes to Tulane about how she's having dinner with three guys. Her cousin wants to know if we're attractive. Amanda also mentions that she almost brought her cousin to dinner to balance out the male-female ratio. But her cousin declined in order to study. Now, the cousin is regretting the decision. Kevin, Greg and I tell Amanda to convince her cousin to come join us. We couldn't all strike out, right?

Kevin: Your cousin. She hot?

Amanda: She's very, very cute. She knows how to party, but she's a good girl, too.

Kevin: Oh yeah. How old is she?

Amanda (matter-of-factly): 18.

Kev, Greg, me: (Dead silence.)

That might be information with which you want to lead. I'm getting desperate but not that desperate. I couldn't even consider dating someone who was in high school four months ago.

By 9:15, the rest of the September party crewe had decided to call it a night. Greg had to finish his law school homework. Amanda and Kevin were approaching bedtime. Boy, do we have different schedules. Still, the evening was one of the highlights of my month. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was watching Tuesday's episode of House when I walked into the living room today. Normally, we watch the good doctor together. I ask why she didn't tell me she started watching it. "Fuck you, Gene. I'm sick of your shit. It's fucking bullshit. I've had these fucking headphones on all day." 

Mom reads the TV columnist's picks for Wednesday. "Dave's an asshole. (I ask why.) He wants me to fucking watch CSI: New York." (Mom is loyal to CSI:Miami, which Dave said not to watch Monday).

I'm trying to figure out how to work her VCR in the dining room to watch the season premiere of Heroes. "It's just like any other fucking VCR. You turn it on. You rewind. You hit play. You fast forward the commercials. You hit stop. I don't understand your problem. What's the fucking deal?"

I'm discussing lunch options with mom. I tell her I'll heat up the rest of the spaghetti and meat sauce. She takes this to mean I want to eat the rest of the red beans and rice. She doesn't feel like making cornbread at first, though. "Fine. I'll make the fucking cornbread!"

I rewind the VCR two hours to start watching Heroes. I didn't realize it was a two-hour premiere. I was expecting to see the start of an hour-long preview instead of the first hour of the premiere. "Ha. You don't know what the fuck you're watching." Mom doesn't like how loud I'm playing the show. "Fucking 36 (the volume). You're gonna blow out the fucking speakers." I'm having trouble putting away the headphone wires when I'm done the show. "You can't fucking put a fucking thing up there."

Mom asks how big a pimple is on the side of her head. I say not too big. "I can sure fucking feel it. Fuck."

Mom comes into my room while I'm watching poker. She looks at my rack of TV shows on DVD. "That's a fucking mess. Fucking 24 takes up a whole fucking shelf." She's still upset about the volume I had Heroes at earlier. "My fucking speakers were humming."

Mom's VCR starts acting up. It won't let her stop it using the remote or the button on the VCR. Weird. She thinks it's because of this sunglasses looking symbol. "What the fuck is that symbol?"

Mom watches the beginning of the 10 p.m. news. "Fucking economic shit is so far in the fucking toilet." (That's the best summation I've heard about this problem. You?)

I NEVER HAVE CRUEL INTENTIONS. HONEST.

I'm starting to think I'm not a good person. In the past two days, these things have been said about me to my face. 1) "You're not the most considerate person." 2) "You were being a dick." In neither case was I aware that the other person could possibly feel this way. Of course, these comments caused me to turn defensive. In doing that, I might have made it worse.

Taking these comments to heart, I realized that I've really been pissing a lot of people off recently. However, I've come to the conclusion that I can't be evil. I just can't be. I didn't mean to do any of this mean stuff. Most of the time I've apologized. I do good things too, you know. 

No matter what my mom says, I do give a fuck about other people.

PARTING SHOTS

I'm watching the World Series of Poker on ESPN. Poker pro Phil Laak folds his hand after much deliberation. His opponent shows him the winning hand. 

Laak: "6-8? That's a straight. I got lucky. I just went into the back of my head and flipped a coin. It came out odds. And I was like, 'Odds. I fold.' I really wanted to call, but the coin sat there in the back of my head." (Weird. Most of my coins have heads and tails.)

Retro quote: September 24, 2004

The Maroon is set to have a shindig at Friar Tuck's later in the day.

Gay Joe: "Thomas, are you going to our social at Tuck's?"

Thomas: "Tuck's? I ain't wearing no tux to no freaky bar social."

(Thomas was an odd one. Whatever happened in his shooting trial? Anyone know?)

THE DAILY TOP LIST

When I was at Madigan's on Wednesday, I recalled all the good times had there. Here are my top five memories of the watering hole.

5) The raid. October 2004.

It was a typical Saturday night at Madigan's. I was mingling among several different groups. David, Alex, Greg and Bones (more on him later) were playing pool in the back. Christina was sitting at a booth with her friends. Kevin and his high school cronies were probably there somewhere. At about midnight, I was talking to Greg in the back. 

Then the cops came, badges blazing. Luckily, I decided not to drink that night. Don't remember why. I was three weeks from turning 21. Getting a ticket in a bar raid would have sucked. David and Bones got tickets. In court, I think they had to pay $110, but as a first offense, it didn't go on their record. Greg was in between drinks and escaped. Apparently, Alex had a sixth sense and detected the presence of the cops right before they got there. In like a split second, he poured the beer out in the trash, put the empty glass on a counter and began putting chalk on a pool stick. It was like he had done that before. 

The raid took like an hour and a half to finish. It wasted the night. And the next three weeks for me. Madi's started carding at the bar after the raid. Stupid cops.

4) The best shots ever.

We were there so much we were all on a first-name basis with Bill the bartender. David, Bones and Kevin would even have extended conversations with him. Bill experimented behind the bar with his own drink concoctions. First there was Wild Bill, a shot that tasted like pixie sticks. Girls really like that one. Then came Kill Bill (yes, there was a Vol. II), a shot that combined 14 (yes, we counted them as we watched him make it) hard liquors. Hit the spot every time. 

3) Math guy. May 2004.

Kevin used to have these Luaus at his house at the end of the school year. (If you recall, I had 33 jello shots at one of them.) As this particular one was winding down, a bunch of us decided to go to Madigan's to top off the night. We got there right before 3 a.m. We meet this drunkard on the patio. Alex convinces him to chug a pitcher of beer. The son of a bitch does it. Quicker than I could chug a tall glass. And I'm not slow. Granted, he upchucked in the bushes about two minutes later. But still.

He must have drank about six pitchers by himself. Pretty soon he was telling us his life story. He was a math major at Southeastern. Someone asked him: "A math major? Why'd you choose that?" He responded: "Because math don't lie, you know. Other majors, they lie. The pigs on my farm, they lie. But in math, there is always an answer ... because math don't lie."

2) Slackers. Fall 2003.

We won the intramural championship at Loyola. After every victory, we met up at Madigan's and knocked back a few pitchers at 8 or 9 p.m. My car would still be in the school parking lot. I'd get drunk at about 9 or 10 p.m. and go back to the girls' dorm to crash. That was the life.

 

One time, a Miller beer supplier was in there. Alex's nickname was Miller Time. The supplier saw Alex's jersey with the name on it and bought us a round. 

1) Adam's birthday. February 1, 2005.

Adam's Slacker name was Bones Jackson. I've never called him Adam since. I introduce him as Bones. He is the greatest character I know. His 21st birthday bash was at Madigan's. So was David's. So was Greg's. For his B-day, Bones kept demanding that everyone buy him a shot. This is no exaggeration. Bones put down 22 shots in a two-hour period. He actually seemed fine. But the 23rd shot did him in.

Kevin hadn't bought him a shot yet. He kept telling Kevin, "Kevin, you motherfucker, get me a shot, dammit." Kev kept saying he'd get to it. One time when Bones requested a shot, Kev was busy talking to a young lady. Big mistake by Bones.

Kevin (turning to Bones): You want a shot?

Bones: Yeah.

Kevin: Fine. I'll get you a shot.

Kevin (walking up to Bill): What's your nastiest shot?

Bill: Well, I got this one shot ...

Kevin: No. No. Nastier than that.

Bill: OK. (Bill makes the shot and explains what it is to Kev.) Here you go.

(Kevin returns with the shot and gives it to Bones.)

Kevin: Here's your shot.

Bones: What is it?

Kevin: It's called a Greasy German.

Bones: German, eh? Fuck yeah. I love Germany. (He had actually been there.)

(Bones takes the shot. It doesn't go down easy. You can tell Bones feels uneasy all of a sudden.)

Bones: What was in that?

Kevin: I don't know all the ingredients. But the secret one is mayonnaise. 

Bones: What the fuck dude?

Kevin: You said get you a shot. Next time don't interrupt my conversation.

After hurling in the bathroom, Bones got out-of-control drunk. I learned on the phone later from David that Bones told him to pull over on a residential street. Bones then got out the car and collapsed on some one's lawn. David retrieved him, but not before Bones ralphed all over the person's lawn. 

Two lessons: Don't take a shot of a Greasy German and don't piss off Kevin. Rules I live by. 

INSTANT KARMA IS GOING TO GET YOU

When I first heard about 3 Doors Down going on tour, I got excited. I was sad to learn, however, the closest stop was Lafayette. I decided against going. Who would go to Lafayette with me, anyway? Add the price of the ticket plus the gas. That's a little pricey. Paul (not a 3 Doors Down fan) tells me he wants to go about five weeks after tickets went on sale. He wants to see the opening bands (Hinder, Finger Eleven). After some convincing, I buy two tickets.

The concert was Tuesday at 6:30 p.m., and Paul and I set off on our adventure to Lafayette at about 3 p.m. I was super excited about the concert. 3DD is my favorite band, and the new album kicked more ass than I could hope for. Mom sees me gathering my water bottle, camera, notepad and Ric Flair book for the trip. "Where you going to put all that fucking stuff?"

We stop at this Shell in Gonzales for Paul to get an energy drink. He's been working 6-7 days a week and not sleeping much. While Paul is standing in line, I decide to go to the bathroom. As we are leaving the convenience store, the store clerk tells the next customer. "Did you hear about last Friday? (No.) We had a shootout here. Those guys were shooting back and forth at each other. One got away. They found his gun under the Shell sign." Under the Shell sign? What he do? Place it on the concrete block? 

We get to the car. The window is down. The keys are in the ignition. Paul asks why I left the keys in the ignition when I went inside. I respond: "It's not like anything bad ever happens here."
Since we are ahead of schedule (plus I don't care about seeing the opening bands), I suggest to Paul we stop in Baton Rouge to say hello to the kiddies. Paul knocks on the door for about a minute with no answer, so he just goes inside. Allen, Jacob and Bert were all in their rooms with the doors closed. Probably doing homework. None of us are too good at locking doors.

I hadn't really talked to these people since the storm (that's the first time I've ever called something besides Katrina: the storm). Jacob tells me that Grendel is alive. His hamster, which disappeared after the power went out during the storm, was found by the people downstairs in a nook nine days later. Grendel was malnourished, dehydrated and had a bad wheel (that's a pun). But he made it. He has since returned to health. I told Jacob: "It's a Gustav miracle."

Paul and I discuss our Kelly situation with Bert. We really pissed her off the other day when she found out we were going to the concert. She couldn't believe she wasn't invited. She called both of us Sunday night and yelled at us for a good while. I tried to explain to her (and Bert on Tuesday) that I didn't decide to go until a few weeks before the storm. At that point, I hadn't talked to Kelly in like a month. I knew she was a fan, but I just didn't think to ask her. That's probably what upset her. We're supposed to be close friends and yet I didn't think of her. 

The not-inviting-Kelly conversation put us behind schedule. We didn't get to the Cajundome until 6:45 p.m. Darn. I might miss Hinder. I didn't miss Hinder, though. In fact, we were early. About a month or so early. What is The Gene Pool talking about, you ask? Oh, the concert was called off. Yup. We drove two and a half hours to a concert that wasn't going down. The same two idiots that once went to the N.O. Arena when the concert was at the Municipal Auditorium have now gone to a postponed concert. I think we can call this a pattern of moronicness. 

Our initial reaction to realizing the concert wasn't happening was to ROFL. Paul pulled over to the side of the road and fell out of his car laughing. My second reaction was to be sad about not seeing my favorite band. My third reaction was that that bitch karma had come back to bite us on the behind for not inviting Kelly. 
The official announcement in lights. It said over several slides: 3 Doors Down / Concert Postponed / Future date to be / Announced. I tried to take a picture of the CONCERT POSTPONED part, but I couldn't time it right with my camera. On both tries, I got this shot. I realized what I was doing wrong, but Paul didn't want to sit there and wait for the announcement to come back around among the other events advertised for the Cajundome. Besides his car was about to get rammed in the back. We were in the middle of the street.

Honestly, I thought about the possibility of the concert being cancelled about halfway to Baton Rouge. I swear. I thought maybe Gustav or Ike did some damage to the building. Or just to be cautious, 3DD put it off for a month. I didn't say anything to Paul. If I had, he wouldn't have fell out the car laughing. He would have been half-expecting it. 

Paul thinks we're not idiots for this blunder. He's convinced there had to be a good number of other people who made the same mistake. In our defense: 1) We don't live in Lafayette. I'm sure it was all over the radio and paper there. 2) I didn't get an e-mail from Ticketmaster because I bought the tickets at Major Video. 3) I didn't hear about the postponing from anyone. In fact, I told several people I was going. They didn't say anything. Kelly didn't know either. I could have checked the band's Web site to make sure. But, who does that?

 

The empty parking lot at the Cajundome was our first tip that the concert was a no-go. We stopped back at Bert's apartment to hang out. I checked the 3 Doors Down Web site to get information on the postponement and the possible make-up date. The concert was not canceled because of Gustav or Ike. Good. I felt like less of an idiot. The actual reason was that Brad Arnold was told by doctors not to sing for a few weeks to rest his vocal chords. The announcement was made Sept. 10, and the rest of the month of shows also was wiped away. No new dates have been set yet. I hope I'm off work. 

To cure our sad feelings about the concert, Paul and I did the only thing you can do in this situation: We went to Outback Steakhouse. Halfway through the sirloin, I felt a little better. But in the end, I still went to a not-happening concert. There's no coming back from that. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom watched the season premiere of Dancing with the Stars on Monday Night. Here are her thoughts on the first episode.

"What a crew. What a fucking crew. Cloris Leachman is a fucking joke. An 80-year-old on fucking Dancing with the Stars. Fucking joke."

"Did you know that Brook Burke has four fucking kids?"

Mom also watched the season premiere of CSI:Miami. "Anyone who is a fucking fan is gonna watch. It was a fucking setup (the shooting of Horacio, I think). I was so disappointed."

I tell her I'm excited to watch the first episode of Heroes. She's still thinking about CSI:Miami. "I hope you're not disappointed. They have all this fucking build up for the fucking new season. And then it sucks."

Cox on Demand was acting up again. "Son of a bitch. We can't go one month without fucking problems." Mom calls Cox and gets the problem solved. "Seems like I got someone who knew what the fuck they were doing. But it's ridiculous. Every two or three weeks it doesn't fucking work."

Mom walks by my bathroom and sees towels on the floor. "Jesus Fucking Christ.  I'm raising a fucking 2-year-old."

I ask mom if lunch is ready. "Fuck you, Gene. How's that for an answer?"

Mom takes a bite of her own cake. "This fucking cake is so good. Better than the fucking bakery."

HE SAID WHAT?

On the way to the concert, Paul and I are discussing TV shows. Shocking, I know. He tells me that he counts hour-long episodes as two because they are twice as long as 30-minute shows. I tell him that the hour-long episodes are a little less than twice as long. He then says, "Well, there are a lot more 30-minute shows than hour shows, so that's why I count hour shows as two episodes." Come again. That's what she said.

I tell him that he is way off. There are definitely more hour-long shows. So he starts listing all the 30-minute shows. He refers to CBS on Mondays and NBC on Thursdays. I count what I know of Monday's lineup and get 7-5 in favor of hour-long shows. He counters with, "Well, you have to count all the game shows." Um, from the game shows I can name, it's pretty even. He doesn't believe me. Next came the best part. "What about soap operas? There's a lot of soap operas." OK. Out of the eight soap operas in the U.S., one is half an hour. 

Paul: "You know somebody has probably already counted this. We can just look it up to see which has more." I'm sure he already has forgotten about that statement, but not me. I looked this up. I didn't find a site with the count, but I went through all the shows in the primetime TV lineup for the Fall season. The count: 68-22 in favor of hour-long shows. And that doesn't count cable, which I'm sure would make this an even bigger blowout. Plus, four of the 22 half-hour shows are animated. Are we even counting those?

The moral of the story is this: Don't argue with me about TV.

FANTASY FEVER

I suffered my first loss of the fantasy season in Week 3. Dos Agateers took it on the chin. Our best player Brian Westbrook left his game early with an injury. So, it was pretty much over right there. We picked up the wrong quarterback to replace Tom Brady. We got Matt Cassel instead of Jason Campbell. Oops. Plus, we played against Michael Turner. Oh well. We're still 2-1, and Westbrook should be OK.

The Gene Poolers, on the other hand, are barreling through the competition like Sonic the Hedgehog. I won this week by 85 points to improve to 3-0. I have the most points in the league. What I thought was the weakest part of my team (wide receivers) has become the strength of my team. Santana Moos (No. 1 receiver in my league), Greg Jennings and Roddy White? I wasn't expecting this much production.

PARTING SHOTS

Paul has an extra ticket to the 49ers game. His first option to take is Michelle (they've been on three dates). His second option is Jacob, whose birthday is Monday. Somehow, I'm third. But that's not the point.

Paul (to Jacob): You're No. 2.

Me (to Jacob): It's your birthday. I think you should be No. 1.

Jacob: I think I should be too.

Paul: That's what you are. No. 2.

Jacob: No. I want to be No. 1.

Paul: You said you wanted to be two.

Jacob: No. I said I should be one too. T-O-O.

Retro quote: September 23, 2004

My boss Billy Turner is talking about covering prep volleyball games for the first time. I should also mention that sometime after this quote, he became a reverend.  

"Well, I did play volleyball when I was in college in Reno. But unlike that game, I was surprised to learn that in high school games, you're not allowed to have alcohol on the court."

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five orders at a restaurant. 

5) Cheddar cheese burger with fries.

Thick and juicy. Well.

4) Chicken fingers with fries.

Been hanging with this order since I was like 6.

3) Veal parmesan.

Baby cow is some good.

2) Seafood platter. 

Boiled shrimp. Fried shrimp. Catfish. Crabs.

1) Steak. 

Sirloin or rib eye.  Filet mignon on special occasions.