KAARE JOHNSON WAS NOT THERE.

I had no idea where to have the November Yat-Together. So, I asked some co-workers for some suggestions. They had ideas coming out their mouths before I could finish the question. I picked four of those restaurants and left it to the readers of the Pool to decide. It was close for a while, but Jacques-Imo's pulled ahead for the victory. Thanks for the votes.

I read on some restaurant review Web site that if you have six or more in your party, you need to make a reservation. We had five in our party, so I didn't make one. The menu, however, says make a reservation for five or more. You can't believe everything you read on that Internet.

Kevin calls as I'm on my way to the place at 7:25 to inform me that the wait will be 45 minutes to an hour. Well, shit. But when I got there, Kevin and Christina were already seated. Kelli and Stephen weren't far behind after some slight confusion with where the rest of us were. The staff put us in a special room. We had to be out by 9:30 because a party was going down in the room then. Apparently, we were not invited. Assholes.


The cornbread was delicious. I had me about two and a half pieces. Then comes the house salad, which was excellent, and a piece of fried oyster. I'm pretty grossed out about oysters in general, especially raw oysters. I was feeling adventurous and took a bite. Not bad. But I won't be eating oysters - in any form - again.

Just before the cornbread came, Kevin regailed us with a fascinating story I'm not allowed to share in this space. But I can tell you what he said happened to him at a casino Saturday night. "A gay guy hit on me in the elevator. He invited me back to his room for a drink." Eww.

Just before dinner, I went to the bathroom. I couldn't find it. I ask the waitress where it be. She says: "There's a bathroom in that restroom over ... I mean behind the bar to the left." Strange bathroom. The sink and paper towels are next to the bar and outside of the actual restroom.

Dinner was a hit. I played it safe and got a fried chicken plate. Don't think I like any of that crazy stuff on the menu. It was really good. I got it with red beans and fries. Not a fan of the fries. The bill came to $203 and change. After tip, we averaged $41 a person. (Greg showed up in the middle of the festivities.) Yawzer.

Greg notices Christina has a different hair color.
Christina: "This is my natural hair color."
Greg: "Oh. I didn't know that."
Christina: "You can tell a girl's natural hair color by looking at her eyebrows."
Stephen: "I always thought you could look some place else."

Sitting a mere two tables from us was WWL-TV Action reporter Bill Capo. Don't see him? He's in the back to the left right behind the guy leaning into the picture. He's got his glasses on. Kevin wouldn't disclose some information on a story he was telling, and I threatened to have Capo investigate that shit.

Hmm. Capo is a New Orleans native. He graduated from Loyola. Gosh darn it, I should have gone over there and invited him to join our table. Maybe next month. Even so, we had our 26th consecutive successful Yat-Together. Thirty away from DiMaggio!

We left at 9:25 with five minutes to spare before the big party. Outside, we continued to chat. Kevin tells us he's looking for a place with two baths and two bedrooms.
Me: The second bedroom is for your special guests?
Kevin: Hopefully, they won't be using the guest room.
Me: Then why have it?
Greg: Kids.

We then discuss the presidential election. Christina is peeved that her fiance voted for McCain. "I told him because of that, I'm gonna make him sign a prenup. ... By the way, we're getting a prenup."

See you next month at Venezia's.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is confused by the TV schedule. "What the fuck is going on? Desperate Housewives just came back on. Now, you have to wait another fucking two weeks for the next one."

Mom is upset in general. "I'm not even gonna bother you with my Ipods. They all fucked up." (I'm fixing them tonight.)

There's no cursing in this one, but it's classic Tina. I'm blowing my runny nose. "You get sick too often. You need to see a doctor. Plus, you blow your nose so hard, blood starts coming out like you were doing cocaine. Pretty soon, you'll have a hole in your nose or whatever happens to drug addicts."

Our CD player in the living room is enclosed in a glass case. I open it to turn off the David Cook album so I can eat with some TV. I forget to close the case. "Just leave the fucking glass swinging so I can walk by and ram into it."

FOUR CORNERS
A closer look at The Gene Pool World

-- WILL CALL: I talked to Will on Monday for the first time since right after the storm. He called in a prep basketball score, and I talked to him after that. It's crazy that I just put him at No. 4 on my co-workers I miss the most list, and then he calls two days later. He's writing a column on recreational sports in the West Bank Picayune. He said he's in the coaching game for life.

-- PEPPERONI AND CHEESE: Chuck revealed to me Sunday the gift he was trying to get me. He just can't find it at any of the local stores. It's the DVD of Tombstone, starring the great Val Kilmer. Very exciting. I love those commercials.

-- PAUL DATING UPDATE: Paul had his date with Cara last Wednesday. He said it went OK, but she has baggage. Perfect. Nothing he likes more than trying to, how do I put this, fix people? He hasn't seen her since.

Meanwhile, he has now been on eight dates with Michelle and hasn't gotten past short makeouts. Ouch. He was at her place Saturday night after the Troy game, but she had him leave. You would think being at that historic comeback would put anyone in the mood. Paul slept at Bert's apartment instead. I told him: "Like we say at work: Ballgame. Thanks for coming."

-- WHY, HELLO THERE: I had a dream Monday night. No, not that kind of dream. An actual dream. My dad and I were going to some sort of sporting event in a neighborhood environment. We were parking, and the parking attendant who was waving us into our spot looked familiar. It was Jenny McCarthy. I guess she was doing low-level jobs to raise money for autism. Yes, I took a picture of her for the blog.

PARTING SHOTS
D is blaming me for him being sick. He got his revenge, though.

D: I snotted on his keyboard.

D continues to get upset when I sneeze or blow my nose in his general direction.

Me: You want me to leave?
D: No. I want you to drop dead.

Jelly and Gamby are talking about Jack's recent activities. Bake chimes in a little off topic.

Bake (to Gamby): I can't picture you in a tu-tu.
Liam: Why would you want to?

Brick and I are talking about work-related stuff. He suggests I disappear Thursday afternoon.

Me (without thinking): I got it. I'll go pick up Kasey (that's D's high school daughter) from school and bring her home. That'll take up some time.
Brick: He's going to kill you.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
My favorite five presidential campaign slogans.

5) He kept us out of war. Woodrow Wilson. 1916.
He had a 14-point plan. Of course, that was for after the war.

4) Ma, Ma where's my Pa? James Blaine. 1884.
When Glover Cleveland, who had an illegitimate child, was elected, his supporters started saying: Gone to the White House, Ha, Ha, Ha! That's freaking hilarious.

3) Go clean for Gene. Eugene McCarthy. 1968.
Only because it has my name in it. Duh. I never heard of this guy, but I just read his wikipedia page. So now I know lots about him. Like he ran for president five times, and he wanted to abolish the two-party system.

2) I like Ike. Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1952.
If Indiana Jones likes Ike, then so do I.

1) Tippecanoe and Tyler, too. William Henry Harrison. 1840.
Because it's fun to say. And it's the only presidential campaign slogan with its own wikipedia page. Did you know that Tippecanoe and Tyler, too was originally a 12-verse song? I didn't.