AND WE'RE GONNA PARTY LIKE IT'S TWO THOUSAND AND NINE!


For the second consecutive year, I headed to the French Quarter to celebrate New Year's Eve. But this year I rocked it with a different group of people. Instead of the Bourbon Street 13 of 2007, we had more of the Gov. Nicholls' 10 of 2008.


I met Chuck at his house a little bit before 5 p.m. He gave me my birthday present: a DVD of Tombstone starring Val Kilmer wrapped in a T-shirt with his face on it three times. Can't wait to hear what Tina has to say about that. We then drove down to his work building to avoid the crazy French Quarter NYE's parking situation. We walked the rest of the way to Bob's house.


On our way to Bob's house, we strolled down Bourbon Street to see if there were any crazy Alabama or Utah fans out and about yet. OK. Just Alabama fans. A little before Gov. Nicholls Street, we found this truck. If Bob ever catches this guy on the street. ...

Bob had two married friends staying with him from Georgia, Brent and Christie. Brent, actually from AR-kansas is the sports editor of the Gainesville Times, where Bob was banished to for a year. Christie, actually from Louisiana, teaches 10th grade English. Two professions I can talk about it. Good. Good. Nice people, too.

Bob got all manly on us and grilled some hamburgers. Not bad at all. Plus, we had chips and cookies. Can't say party without cookies. Especially if they are chewy and soft. Chuck made two kinds of dip. Did I mention alcohol? Yeah, we had that, too.

At halftime of the LSU slaughter, Kaila and Kathleen arrived, increasing our numbers to seven. Kaila is almost done (she thinks) making Gillie's wedding dress. Kathleen is the Hollywood member of our Loyola circle. She's out there working on TV pilots. She said the most promising one is about monsters and appeals to kids 11-14.

I offered to help by writing the theme song. I got the first line: "Monsters. Monsters. Everywhere. // Monsters. Monsters. Here and there." That'll hook in the kids.

Bob was drinking champagne in a glass. The champagne of beers, Miller High Life, that is. But then he had a little incident and had to clean it up. Not the best way to kick off the new year.

A little after 11, we headed over to Jackson Square. The advantage to having Bob live in the French Quarter was that we took like 10 steps and were right there.

I got problems with this. Why in the name of New Orleans did they change the gumbo pot to a fleur-de-lis? Organizers said to reflect a changing New Orleans. Fuck that. Keep the damn gumbo pot. And if it's going to be a fleur-de-lis, can't it at least be a little bigger?

Kaila and Kathleen left a half hour before midnight to go say hello to some other friends and said they'd be back before the gumbo pot, er, fleur-de-lis, dropped. After they left, I said to Bob and Chuck, "There's no way they make it back. I bet you. I'll give you 4 to 1 odds. What do you say?" Bob: "Gene, I think you may have a gambling problem." (They didn't make it back.)

For the second consecutive year, I was in Jackson Square for the stroke of midnight. Also, for the second consecutive year, Mayor C. Ray Nagin (Or just C-Ray for those of us who love him) was drunk as the MC of the bash.

I think he was more drunk this year. Five minutes before 2008 got to stepping, he tells us: "Everyone. Raise (pause.) your glass in the air (pause) and (pause) let's toast (pause) 2009." We had finished the drinks we brought with us from Bob's house, so we toasted empty cups.

If you look closely at the picture, you can see C-Ray's (we tried to get a chant going) back. He's holding a child. I'm not exactly blaming him for being drunk. I was getting there myself. I just thought it was funny.

Our group (rejoined by Kaila) headed back toward Bob's house. We went to Cosimo's on the corner of Burgundy and Gov. Nicholls. Kathleen soon rejoined us. Before you knew it, Laura (my favorite Hornets' friend because she hates Money Brown just as much) and two of her friends, Denise and Mack, who played hoops at Loyola, showed up.

And we knew that it was much more than the gin. That this group must somehow form a family. That's the way we all became the (Gov.) Nicholls 10.

Now, this fine lady became quick friends with us. Mostly me, though. She came up to me when I walked into the bar. She gave me a big hug and said, "Happy New Year."

Later, we're sitting on these really comfy sofas in the lounge area. She's sitting on a stool about 10 feet away. "Happy New Year, motherfuckers. I love this holiday. I hate Christmas. But New Year's. I like New Year's. You can drink all night." About five minutes later. "I'm the cook here. I'm the kitchen bitch. I do all the cooking."

Still later, the kitchen bitch (how bout K&B for a nickname?) approached us, stammered something, then looked at me and said, "Right, cuteness?"

As Denise kept saying all night: "Ain't no party like a Bob party. Because a Bob party don't stop." (For all you T-P folk, doesn't Mack, right, look like Freddie's younger brother? Come to think of it, he kind of talked like him, too. I bet their cousins.)

Laura, Bob, Chuck and I invented a new routine of dance moves based on referee calls in basketball and football. Among the best were first down, shot clock violation, traveling (or false start), field goal no good, personal foul, the double dribble/incomplete pass due to juggling combination and the yellow card presentation. I think we forgot about charging. Look out Gillie's wedding.

As the night winded down and our numbers dwindled, Chuck and I observed a fight on the street. A girl was trying to separate two guys. One of who was obviously Six Beers. So, Six Beers breaks loose and throws a punch. Sober dude avoids the fist and knocks Six Beers to the ground with a right hook. Six Beers gets back to his feet, throws a wild punch not even close and falls back on his ass.

Next think you know, eight cop cars are parked outside, and 8-10 cops enter the bar looking around. Chuck and I think the sober dude disappeared, and they were looking for him. Don't know why. Didn't seem like his fault. Twenty minutes later, all the cops and fight participants were all gone. (There was also a dude who kept staring at Chuck and me. Like scary staring.)

Chuck and I ducked out the bar and headed back to his car at 4 a.m. I got back home and watched the UNC game, which I had to call mom and get her to tape because I forgot. I was really glad the night ended up the stuff of legend because, as Nick informed me when I called to wish him a Happy Birthday, my No. 4 New Year's Eve (2004) actually happened on the Fourth of July. We'll put 2008 at a solid No. 3.

Please tune into Friday's edition of TGP for the top five quotes of the New Year's Eve party.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I return home for the New Year's Eve festivities to watch the North Carolina-Nevada game. My mom sees me turn on the TV. "What the fuck did I tape?"

Mom is watching some music thing honoring The Who. "I can't believe they got fucking Jack Black to host this."

Mom is watching Two and 3/4 Men. Charlie is visiting his shrink. "Fucking psychiatrists. They ..." She didn't finish her thought.

I'm in my room writing Wednesday's blog before work Thursday. I come out to leave, and mom is pissed in the living room.

Mom: I un called you 3 or 4 fucking times.

Me: I was blogging.

Mom: Well, are you done fucking around?

I put on my Cp3 sweatshirt for the first time to wear to work. The tag still is on. Mom tries to cut it off, but she's struggling. I sigh. "Well, I'm going blind. If you can't fucking deal with it, I'm sorry."

PARTING SHOT

Lopes is disappointed in the way a story was written. He tells Marcus.

Marcus: "Lopes, what's one of my favorite sayings? (Pause for drama.) You can't win the Kentucky Derby with a giraffe."

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five New Year's resolutions.

5) Physical contact.

A) Get a girlfriend. B) Do more jump bumps. C) Get a hug from Marcus. (In that order.)

4) Be more active.

I have a basketball goal in my backyard. My goal is to put the goal to use.

3) Don't interject in conversations I'm not a part of.

No matter how mad I am about what's being said or how wrong somebody is about something. I don't care. Let them be wrong. This doesn't mean I won't eavesdrop. You got to draw the line somewhere.

2) Move out.

Don't worry. I'd still visit home for a frequent Tina Cursing Corner. The potential roommates are already lining up. My plan is to be the next Jack Tripper.

1) Win the lottery.

And be rich, bitch. We were discussing the other day how this would alter the TCC. I forgot who said it, but someone in the office (I think Brick) gave this example: "Fucking cabana boy was supposed to be here Tuesday. Now, it's Wednesday."