I'D HATE TO BREAK TRADITION

As I told you yesterday, I've been to Madigan's on Thanksgiving for several years in a row. When I finished the blog Thursday night and the Hornets game got to halftime, I headed down to the old stomping ground. David and his girlfriend were already there. He also recalled being at Madi's for the fifth year in a row on Thanksgiving.

David and I aren't the only ones with a Thanksgiving Madigan's tradition. I saw my friend Alex, left, for the first time since, um, let me see here, last Thanksgiving. (We didn't plan to meet there or anything. We just both showed up.) He's set to graduate with a master's in architecture from Tulane in May. He wants to start a firm in Nawlins. 

Alex hasn't changed much over the years. Here's classic Alex. David and I are talking to him. He looks at David and points at me: "This motherfucker over here." Or: "Listen, motherfucker. I went fishing Wednesday. This is how I do when I fucking go fishing man. I took a pill at 9 p.m. Tuesday night and passed out. I woke up at 3 a.m. and drank two strong ass cups of coffee to kill out that motherfucking sleeping pill. Then, I got my beer and took off." 

Alex and I once started a baseball league at lunch in the ninth grade. It was quickly disbanded in like a week by the disciplinarian, but it was fun while it lasted. There was a little open area outside the cafeteria (we also ate lunch there for all five years), and we used the rail and a few trees as bases. We had textbooks for bats, and we pitched Skittles to smack around. Apparently, that's considered dangerous. Whatever. 

David, Alex and I aren't the only ones with our own Madigan's Thanksgiving tradition. Every year, this group of people celebrates the day of giving thanks at the bar, and they have a countdown to midnight. Kind of like the opposite of New Year's, counting until it's over. 

Then at midnight, this guy gets up on top of the bar and makes a speech. He talks about giving thanks, about the tradition of Madigan's and makes some jokes about women and shopping on Black Friday (tragic stuff with those deaths, by the way). Then, the group does a big whiskey shot. 

I'm not sure why I haven't joined in. I'm there every Thanksgiving. I like whiskey shots. And most of the guys in the group went to Rummel. In fact, I know the guy making the speech. He also went to Loyola and played shortstop on the baseball team. 

Here's David buying four shots from Bill the bartender. David and Bill are on a first-name basis from when we were in there all the time. Bill is known for making his own shots and naming them.

David: Bill, I can't come to Madigan's and leave without getting a round of Wild Bills.

Bill: Amen, brother. Amen. 

David, Paul, Alex and I toasted to Thanksgiving, Madigan's and Bill and threw down the shots. I love traditions! We didn't even ask Alex if he wanted one. We just walked over to him and told him it was time for Wild Bill. There's also Kill Bill and Kill Bill Vol. 2.

Later on, David, Paul and I were discussing our fantasy football league when Paul delivered his cluelessness comment of the week. At least this time he realized his mistake fairly quickly.

Paul: I can't believe no one has picked up Green Bay's defense. They do well every week.

David: Well, not last week.

Paul: Who'd they play? 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is upset by the growing list of unwatched stuff on our DVR. She scrolls down the list. Most of the programming is mine. "Bullshit. ... Bullshit. ... Bullshit."

Our Thanksgiving Friends marathon gave mom the itch to watch more. "The first few episodes of Season 8 are so fucking hilarious." 

I'm watching the third quarter of the LSU-Arkansas game as I'm getting ready to go to work. It's 4:01 p.m. 

Me: Uh oh.

Mom: What?

Me: We gotta punt.

Mom: You ought to punt it out the fucking door.

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

If you go through a crazy experience in a relationship and then break up, never ever make contact with the ex. I learned this the hard way with Regina. Twice. Welcome to the epilogue of High School Girlfriend Saga.

1) In January of my freshman year of college (2003), I somehow made contact with Regina. I agreed to meet her at Madigan's. She wanted to see the rest of the gang as well. So, Paul, Minkus, Regina and I are sitting at a table in the outside part of the bar. 

An hour into it, Regina tells us that it's time to get a little crazy. Little, I thought? I'm pretty sure we were already slightly past that stage. She stands up on the table and starts dancing wildly. I tell her that she's embarrassing me at my favorite bar. She ignores me. Then, a worker comes by and kicks her out of the bar for causing a ruckus. 

We all leave and are standing right outside the bar. Regina freaks out, breaks down crying and runs off down the street. In classic Minkus fashion, he chases after her and comforts her. I went back inside and continued drinking. 

2) On July 4, 2004, I'm hanging out at the Palace after a movie talking to Paul (who was working) and Minkus. (Yes. I had already watched Independence Day.) I am disturbed to learn that Minkus still has Regina's phone number in his phone. I tell him to delete that shit. 

He then tells me that he's been talking to her. Are you freaking kidding me? He calls her to wish her a happy 4th of July. I know. I should have smacked him in the face and destroyed his phone. Instead, I took the phone and started talking to Regina.

Me: What's up?

Regina: Oh, nothing much. Just hanging out.

Me: You are in town?

Regina: Yeah.

Me: What are you doing tonight?

Regina: Just hanging out with some friends.

Me: Oh. You have friends?

(Click.)

I never spoke to her again. Minkus finally stopped shortly thereafter as well, saying, "Man, she's crazy." Yeah, he's a little slow. Last I heard, Regina is living in Slidell. Be on the lookout, Marcus. 

PARTING SHOTS

D and I are discussing the dangers of playing soccer.

Brick: D, do you know what the most dangerous sport is?

Sandy: Dating.

We're discussing the different approaches our two horse racing writers take when covering the sport. 

Sandy: So, they report from opposite ends of the horse.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

The top five reasons why I thought today was Saturday. Note: This happens to me every year after Thanksgiving.

5) My work assignment. 

I slotted pages, which I usually do on Saturdays. On Fridays, I mostly read stories, and for the past 10 weeks, I've done the prep rail. Plus, there was one deadline at like 10:50, just like every Saturday. Friday deadline has been past midnight for the past 10 weeks. 

4) I hung out with friends the night before.

I never hang out with friends late Thursday and into Friday morning. That has happened before on a Friday night into Saturday morning. So, since I was out until 2 a.m. last night, I thought it was Saturday morning when I woke up.

3) Lack of traffic. 

On the way to work, there was hardly anyone on the road, just like on Saturdays. If this were really a Friday, traffic would be a tad worse. When I got to the parking lot at work, it was basically empty. Much like it would be on a Saturday.  

2) LSU played.

That usually happens on Saturdays. When I woke up and started watching the game, I went into Saturday mode. 

1) I ate meat.

Normally, I eat meat on Saturdays and seafood on Fridays. Well, today was Friday. Did I plan to eat seafood? Nope. I had it in my head when I woke up that I was eating ribs and wings. That's what I ate. I didn't even think to order seafood. The place probably wasn't open anyway, but still.