CHRISTMAS WITH THE FIEGELS  

I worked both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. No biggie, though. I was done by 6:30 on Wednesday and like 8 on Thursday. The beauty of working major holidays is easy shifts. 

Not one to call it an early night, especially on such a big holiday, I stopped at Cooter Brown's on the way home to say hello to Stephen and the Fiegels (that's John, who works at the T-P, and his daughter Jennifer). I ended up staying for two hours. 

I already knew Jennifer via mutual friends at LSU. Though I've never called her Jennifer. I've always called her Fiegel. And I'm sticking to that. Try not to get confused.  

Fiegel spent most of our conversation referring to me as her "facebook stalker." She's half-right. I am a facebook-stalker. Just not hers. 

She got that impression because I was telling her something and referenced her facebook status from a few weeks ago. She misinterpreted my memory skills for being a stalker. But what I was telling her is funny: Fiegel and Paul have both left their credit card at Fred's in Baton Rouge. 

Stephen explains to Fiegel that there are two kinds of women: medicated and not yet. 

Stephen: So which one are you?

Jennifer: Not yet. (Then, pointing at her drink.) Unless you count this as self-medicated. 

Also at the bar was one of Little Joe's frat brothers. When I saw him walk in, I expected Little Joe to be right behind him, even though I knew the Little One was in Arkansas. Miss ya, buddy.

As usual, Fiegel was taking pictures. She insisted on taking one with me. I didn't want to end up on her next facebook album, so I closed my eyes for the photo. That'll show her. 

The conversation at one point came to Ace, a not-all-there, out-of-this-universe creepy former T-P employee. There was a running joke in the sports department that Ace had taken a liking to me. If you know what I mean. He would say stuff you just don't say at work. John recalled the best example by telling us that Ace once complained that little boys should be legal. 

Anyway, I realized that I've been out drinking the past two major holidays. Gee, I hope I can keep the streak going on New Year's Eve. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom tells me that our neighbors across the street are getting divorced. The guy has been living there (family house) since before we moved in way back when. "Yeah. I got the scoop from Tom. I said, 'ain't that some shit." I ask mom if she's surprised. "No. I think he got married too young. (I think he was like 28.) But I've always felt that when a guy gets married before 30 it is a mistake because he's not done fucking around." 

Mom is watching a soap and talking at the TV. "How the fuck you gonna do that?"

Mom is talking about something and then switches gears. "You and your dad are two peas in a fucking pod. Then, today he tracked his muddy fucking shoes in my garage." 

Mom hit the after-Christmas sales Friday morning. 

Me: Why didn't you wake me up to go with you?

Mom: I tried to get you up a couple of times. You were fucking ignoring me.

I'm trying to help mom with the crossword puzzle out on the patio. I fill in the word "yello." Mom: "Mellow Yellow? What the fuck is that?" Then, she shows me a trouble spot for her in the puzzle. "I know this clue, but I can't fucking think of the pear word." A few minutes later. "Quit leaning on the table. You're going to end up fucking breaking the thing." 

Mom is trying to tell me where Rihanna is from by reading it from the booklet in the CD she just bought. "I can't find it. It has so many fucking words on here." (She's from Barbados.) 

Mom sees me leaving for the Hornets-Rockets game. 

Mom: How much does it cost to park?

Me: $10.

Mom: Fucking ridiculous. But they get you, though. No one wants to park on the street and walk because it is too fucking dangerous.

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

Don't park in the Superdome or any other main building if you attend a Hornets game. You'll be stuck in that sumbitch for days after the game. Might as well stay in your seat in the Arena for an hour. Or bring a football and throw it around in the parking lot. 

My dad and I parked across the street from the Superdome in a $10 parking lot Tuesday night. At first, I thought it might be a long walk. But all you do is cross the street (with officer assistance), walk through the Dome parking lot and voila, you're right in front of the Arena. 

Then, when we left. Oh man, was that awesome. There were only like 20 cars using this lot (I'm sure it's full for Saints games), so leaving it was a breeze. And when we turned onto Poydras, the Interstate ramp we needed was right there. Zero traffic. None. Like there wasn't even a game that night. 

IDIOT CALLER OF THE WEEK 

Mike took the idiot call of the week Christmas night. Remember this is Christmas night. Who calls the sports section with a question on Christmas night? Also, keep in mind that there were no college bowl games Christmas night.

Mike (answering the phone): Sports.

Caller: Yeah. Can you tell me how LSU did in that Fill bowl tonight? 

Mike: Uh, LSU plays on New Year's Eve. 

Caller: Oh. 

So, not only was he almost a week ahead of time, but he called it the Fill bowl. Oh boy. 

Hey, Chuck. I bet my Tigers kick the crap out of your Yellow Jackets in the Fill Bowl. (No. I don't really think LSU will win.) We're going to fill you up all right in the Fill Bowl. It's only been two jokes, but I think we've had our fill of these comedic gems. 

PARTING SHOT

Lopes and I are discussing his eventual going-away party Christmas night. 

Me: Hmm. We better make sure we get you a cake. The big shots certainly won't. 

Lopes: Dan Shea will get me a cake. 

Me: Oh yeah. He'll get you two cakes. And he'll eat it, too. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five Christmas presents

5) Candy.

Give me some candy.

4) Pajamas. 

Comfy.

3) Rockets-Hornets ticket in the lower bowl.

More on that tomorrow.

2) Debit card.

With enough money on it to last a few meals.

1) CP3 sweater.

You've seen it.