YOU GOTTA FIGHT. FOR YOUR RIGHT. ...

After work Saturday night, I drove back to Harahan. But not to go home. Oh no. I met gal pals Paul and Kelly as well as Kelly's good friend Nicole at the Rickshaw Lounge on Hickory Avenue. And you thought Harahan shut it down at 10 p.m.

It was an 80s themed party. There was a guy dressed like Pee Wee Herman. Devo T-shirts. Crazy wigs. Crazier hair. Football gear with old logos. In other words, it was fantastic.

The rest of the gang was all there by 9 p.m., but I showed up at 11:45 p.m. They were just getting started. The music was good, except for this sequence started at about midnight.

Shook Me All Night Long
Beastie Boys song
Pour Some Sugar on Me
Different Beastie Boys song
Shook Me All Night Long

A tad repetitive if you ask me. But what do I know? Kelly and I did not start the evening off on the right note.

Kelly (while we're dancing): What color are my eyes?
Me: Uh, brown.
Kelly: You ...
Me: I mean uh green. Blue.
Kelly: Fuck you.

I tried to explain to Kelly that I don't know the color of anyone's eyes, but she didn't believe me and kept spitting her water (yes, Kelly's a spitter) on me. She even got me in the crotch area. Twice. Eventually, I convinced her that I didn't mean to offend her and really don't know eye colors. I really don't.

I still can't believe this place is in the heart of Harahan. It was wild. Take a look at a few pictures.
Footloose is just an excuse for girls to huddle up and repeat the same motions together.

Nicole, in pink, was a solid Six Beers when I arrived before midnight. For the next two hours, she didn't stop drinking (shots, beer, not water), despite the best efforts of Paul, Kelly and me.

At some point, she took the microphone from someone who worked there and proceeded to sing the next four songs, whether she knew the words or not. Here she approaches a trio of strangers and gets them to sing with her. This was most entertaining.

A large part of Nicole's family was on hand. Did they help us stop her from drinking enough to get alcohol poisoning? No. They encouraged it. Oh, Nicole needs another beer. Here you go, dawling.

Her brother, who refused to watch Nicole work her magic on the pole in the middle of the bar, must have served her four beers within an hour. He was basically saying, "Man, you're drunk. Stop slobbering on that pole. Here's another beer. Drink."

Eventually, we got Nicole to stop and leave at 2:30 a.m. Kelly took her home before meeting Paul and me at Bud's. I don't think Nicole felt too good Sunday. Probably will feel it Monday, too.

Yes, that's a 55-year-old man (maybe 60) dancing on a pole. He observed Nicole's moves and wanted to show everyone some of his own. Pretty disgusting. He also kept whispering things to Paul and me throughout the night. We didn't understand a one-word he said.

Paul and Kelly's fighting has gotten so bad that I'm no longer calling them gal pals. Nope. Now, they're Paul and Kelly, the soon-to-be-divorced couple. They won't stop arguing!

One last thing. I told Kelly of this marvelous idea I have for her and Bert's wedding. I said they should take their initials K and B and use the old grocery store symbol on all their crap they send out, as a sign of New Orleans history. Brilliant, I know.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

So, our air conditioner system needs to be completely replaced. With vacation next week, we probably won't get it fixed for about 10 days. My mom: "I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do. They can put the whole fucking thing in on Tuesday, but that'll ruin my fucking day before I have to pack."

Mom explained the problem with the air system. "Fucking compressor is shot. It's really fucked. This is fucked."

Mom knew a question on Millionaire about the color worn by brides in India. "It's red! They wear a fucking red thing on their forehead."

ON THIS DATE IN GENE POOL HISTORY

2008: Tina and I moved the TV from her back room into the dining room for use of the Wii. The TV is still there. During the moving process, Tina got upset. "Oh my, God! What have I done. I am not happy with this. This is a fucking disaster."

MOVIE WEEK IN REVIEW

My Best Friend's Girl. 2008. A little outrageous but mostly entertaining. "Priest and a rabbi have a kid bent over. The priest says, 'Let's screw him.' The rabbi says, 'Out of what?' "

Burn After Reading. 2008. Loved this farce. Brad Pitt was incredibly entertaining.

Whatever Works. 2009. One of the 10 worst movies I've ever seen. Still getting the taste out of my mouth. Though the popcorn Wednesday night was good.

The Great White Hype. 1996. I don't think I've seen a boxing movie I didn't like.

Best of Times. 1986. Interesting concept for football movie. The game action, however, completely formula.

RANDOM THOUGHT OF EVERY SO OFTEN

At parties, bars and other such places and events, songs should not be played in their entirety. Even for the songs that aren't that long, it always seems like too much. The crowd always seems the most excited about a song when the first note hits.

As a rule, I think songs should be cut after the second chorus. More songs get played, and it eliminates the come-on, let's-move-it-alongness of the evening. There is one exception to this rule: Don't Stop Believin' should always be played in full.

PARTING SHOT
We're talking about boxer Arturo Gatti's wife strangling him to death.

Lopes: His wife beat him with a purse.
Me: It was the biggest purse of his career.
Bake: He's pursey-whipped.