THE END OF HOSPICE VACATION

FINDING THE HUMOR 5

After waking up at 10 a.m. Tuesday, my mom only stayed up for two hours. She arose again at 6 p.m., but basically only long enough to say hi to Joe and Jenna and then was awake again for a little while toward 11 p.m. 

She slept the rest of the day and didn't even notice that Bert was in the room for several hours. I'm about to head back to work today, and mom is going back home, ending an interesting five days at this hospice facility.  

Goodbye my home from Friday night until Wednesday morning. 

Mom had a total of 22 visitors during the five days, counting my dad and me. So 20 people that didn't have to come, and that really touched my heart and helped me not be sad. Thanks, guys. 

People came from as far away as down the street -- Kelly and Nicole -- to as close by as Barcelona -- Gillie and Brian. Wait, switch that, reverse it. 

When mom came to at 5 a.m. Wednesday morning, it was the latest in a long line of adventures we've had the past couple weeks. 

She refused to stay down and insisted on being let out the bed because it was time to go. I continued to tell her no and blocked her path of exit. 

Or so I thought. 

I dozed off around 5:30 and when I opened my eyes a few minutes later, mom was out of the bed and slowly walking!

Somehow she had escaped from the other side of the bed that is propped up against the wall and has two rails to boot. The bed was slightly angled away from the wall after two nurses got on each side to reposition her Tuesday night. 

Still, there wasn't much room to squeeze out of there between the two rails and also between the bed and the wall, especially for someone who hasn't walked in a week and who has trouble breathing. But dammit if her spirit -- and hard-headedness-- aren't still very much a ticking. 

I jumped out my chair and rushed over to hold her, as she could collapse at any moment. She ended up making a lap around the bed before a nurse helped her lay back down. We then pushed the bed all the way against the wall. 

Here's what she said over the next two hours after we got her down: 

-- I'm mad at you.

Me: Why?

Mom: Because you made me get out of bed. And you wouldn't tell me what was wrong with me. 

-- We both gonna die?

Me: I don't plan on it. 

Mom: So just me?

-- (looking at me) Why are you trying to drive me crazy? Why are you doing this to me, Tina?

-- The little girl got sick, then her brother, and now he's sick. 

-- I got to get up and put on purple shoes. 

Me: Why? Where you going?

Mom: Why are you trying to make me put on purple shoes and die?

SHE TOLD ME TO TURN OFF WRESTLING

FINDING THE HUMOR 4

My mom slept from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. yesterday. Not a bad gig if you can get it, right? And then she slept from 11 p.m. to 10 a.m. Tuesday. 

I learned from a nurse that tumors had entered mom's brain, and that's the reason she speaks non-sensically now. 

Here are yesterday's highlights:

-- Gene, you're so full of shit. Unbelievable. So full of shit. (Pause). So full of shit.

-- I want my cake now. 

Me: You have cake? Where?

Mom: Down the street. 

-- Mom told some story I wasn't completely paying attention to. I came in at the end. 

Mom: So you gonna text him?

Me: Who?

Mom: Muhammad Ali. 

-- I think the food comes out a shoot. 

-- Let's play happy games today. Gene happy games. Gene happy games. 

-- There was lots of baby talk. 

Where's the baby?

Me: What baby?

Mom: My baby. 

She then asked if the mother -- no longer mom's baby apparently -- was keeping the baby and if the father was OK with it. She was really worried about the baby and wanted to leave to go get it. 

Mom: So the baby's ok?

Me: Yup. 

Mom: Well that's good. Wish someone would have told me a lot fucking sooner. Give me a bag of candy. 

HER LONG-TERM MEMORY IS STILL GOOD

FINDING THE HUMOR 3

My mom persisted from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. Monday morning to please help her get up. And since that's been her entire life's mission the past four days, I helped her up. 

She can't walk anymore, so I had to hold her up. But she did enjoy sitting on the edge of the bed and stretching her legs across a chair instead of the bed. 

The sad part came when she asked me to go into the other room to retrieve some clothes. 

Me: Mom, we're not at home. 

Mom: Where are we?

Me: A hospice room. 

Mom: Whose sick that we're here for?

Me: You. 

Mom: Why? What's wrong?

That was tough to answer. It was like she was hearing it for the first time. 

Later the nurse asked where she was. Off and on the last few days, she kind of thought she was still at home but now she knew she wasn't. 

Her response: Folsom. 

Nurse: What year are we in?

Mom: 1974. 

Other highlights from the past 24 hours:

-- She looks at Paul. "Is that a pass to get into Playboy. In Playboy 2, they said I'll guess we will go to the tit pool. She said I didn't know we had a tit pool. It looked pretty fun. Wish I knew how much it was to join."

-- Mom was all kinds of fidgety last night. I'm trying to calm her down as she continually puts her feet over the bed railing. 

Mom: I'm gonna kick you right in the stomach.

Me: Relax. 

Mom: (Making a fist): I'm gonna relax you right in the face. 

-- Did you know there's an alligator party tomorrow?

Me: No. You going?

Mom: Yeah. They have lots of parties. 

-- How come I can have candy, but I couldn't have it yesterday?

Me: You did. I gave you some. 

Mom: But why couldn't I have some yesterday?

Me: You did yesterday. I gave you some. 

Mom: I know. But why couldn't I have candy yesterday?

-- She's picking at the catheter tubing. 

Me: Can you stop doing that?

Mom: I'm getting my bottles. I don't want to lose my bottles. 

-- I ask mom if she remembers the visitors she had Sunday. 

Me: Do you remember Kelly coming?

Mom: Yes. 

Me: Paul?

Mom: Yes. 

Me: Dad?

Mom: Yes. We all went bowling. Then y'all made up some bullshit and probably went fishing. Y'all made up some bullshit. 

I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM

FINDING THE HUMOR 2

After cutting through some insurance bullshit, an ambulance arrived Friday afternoon to transport my mom to River Regions hospice care. 

She was asleep when the EMTs tried to move her off the bed. Her eyes popped open and got as big as I've ever seen them. 

"What the fuck!?!?!"

After some more miscommunications Friday night and Saturday morning, mom's medications were finally figured out and she got a little comfortable. I slept fine in her room Friday night, though Saturday night was a different story. 

She has said the title of this post at least 100 hundred times over the past few days, no matter how vehemently I explain that she has a catheter and a diaper. 

Here's some of the stuff she's said in her hospice room the past few days. Once again, a big thanks to all that stopped by. 

-- Did you set the ice machine to when you want the baby born?

-- They don't serve ice in Panama City. I was like I need more ice. And she was like you have so much. And I was like I need more. Six, seven, eight cubes. 

-- (looking at the TV) Change the station. I want the last letter to be Z.  

-- Am I sitting on dad? Is he in the corner?

-- Nicole made a bunch of candy for Christmas for her family, co-workers, etc. She gave a box to mom, who loved a particular kind. 

Me: You like the pink candy?

Mom: Yeah. It was so good. Can't wait to wear it out. 

-- How do you expect me to get out of here?

Me: Out of where?

Mom: The horse. I don't want to let the team down. 

-- Me: Who visited you yesterday?

Mom: He took out the shotgun and killed the cop. 

Me: Who?

Mom: The guy she was with. 

Me: Whose she?

Mom: I dunno. 

Me: When was this?

Mom: Yesterday at my house. 

-- Was Melissa on the team last year?

-- Can I wear your shirt when I go home?

-- You should start walking around. 

Me: I think I wanna go to sleep. 

Mom: You get yourself sick when you do that. 

-- Her old sheets are sitting in bags on the air conditioner. 

Mom: What are those?

Me: Sheets. 

Mom: But what's in the bag?

Me: Sheets. 

Mom: I got that. But what's in the sheets?

She also insisted on being handed the old sheets. She opened the bag and rummaged through them. 

Me: What are you looking for?

Mom: The plug. 

SHE ASKED ME ABOUT GRADUATION, TOO

FINDING THE HUMOR

The last three days have been a brutal roller coaster as my mom entered what I'm calling the fourth stage of dying. Each day had a major incidence. 

But that's not the point of this post. Mom has said the darnedest things over the past few days, so I'd thought I share a few of them with you. 

"Am I having a baby?"

Me: Nope. 

"Well, you never know when."

"I have a lit cigarette somewhere. 

Me: You quit months ago. 

"It's gonna burn the house down."

"I have to get up and pee."

Me: You have a catheter. You don't have to get up. Just go. 

"I'm gonna piss in your eyeball!"

"Why don't they ever tell the spouse, or the kids?"

Me: They do.

"They didn't tell me."

Me: Tell you what?

"About the mattress. Took four or five days."

"I've been calling Beyonce."

Me: What she say?

"Nothing. I could just here her saying fuck you and hanging up."

There was also a story that ended with the cops showing up at our house, her pointing at a girl on the TV and telling the nurse "that's Gene's girlfriend, Nicole," and her calling steps 1, 2 and 3 of some process bullshit."

LET THERE BE LIGHTS

WELCOME TO ROCK IS JERICHO

Paul and I saw a heavy metal band named Fozzy at the House of Blues two weeks ago. We're aware of said band because the frontman is Chris Jericho, who is in both of our top 10 wrestlers of all-time. 

We both do actually like the band, though. We arrived on time at 7 to learn that Fozzy wouldn't take the stage until 10:30. Yikes, I couldn't sit through three other heavy metal bands. I don't even like heavy metal. 

So we left and came back just after 10, ran into an old high school chum -- who I didn't remember until he told me his last name -- and moseyed our way up to what amounted to the sixth row. 

There were only about 200 folks there, but Fozzy played like it was 20,000. Just a great show, made better by this old guy in the corner with a towel just going to town with his rocking out. 

He first wore that jacket when he returned to the ring in 2012. Yeah, I know. Badass. 

After two hours of non-stop rocking, alas the show ended. But the Fozzy tour bus was parked directly in front of the HOB, so we gathered near some other fans waiting for Jericho. 

One by one they all went home until it was Paul, me and two skankyish chicks, who were let backstage with the bassist. 

At about 2 a.m. Jericho emerged with a plastic cup hanging from his mouth -- his signature drink is vodka and ice. He put his bags up, signed Paul's Fozzy record, took pictures and chatted. 

We discussed his scarf and then started talking about his podcast. He asked me who my favorite guests were but cut me off in the middle of my answer. 

"What about the non-wrestling ones?"

I hesitated. 

"You know there's more to life than wrestling."

I rattled off some rock guests he had, but it was too late. He knew I only cared about the wrestling. 

So here was one of the greatest wrestlers of all-time, a guy who has been a fan of wrestling since he was 5 and he was telling me that there's more to life. Wow. 

He then excused himself as the skankyish duo had returned to the street. "I have to um go take some more pictures." 

Yeah, boy!

AROUND TOWN WITH NICOLE

Nicole and I went to Christmas in the Oaks a few weeks back and had a good time. 

We rode some tilt-a-world ride for free because there was no line and the worker just restarted it. We rode the train, and that was sweet and romantic, except we sat in the first row and could smell the exhaust. But some nice lights. 

The carousel was also a good time as I acted a fool on top of my horsey and the little kid in between us was not having as good a time as his mommies would have liked. 

Last Friday, I went to Nicole's office Christmas party at Le Pavillon. 

The party did liven up after this picture was taken. 

The hotel serves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to its guest at 10 p.m. nightly, so we partook. 

As we left the hotel, a drunk guy on Poydras stopped us. 

"That hotel has PB&J at 2 a.m., right? Guys, we got to come back."

Me: "No. At 10 p.m.  They almost out."

"Oh shit."

NOTHING FINER THAN CAROLINA: PART C.

I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO GHOSTS

Nicole and I enjoyed our trip to Charlotte a few weeks ago. Did I mention in the other two posts that it was our first couple's trip?

There was the art museum, some decent food (pizza in a marketplace and a burger from their version of Cowbell), a rare Saints victory (Nicole and I are 2-0 together this season, the rest of the games, the Saints are 2-6) the cool weather and the hotel -- if you know what I mean. 

But the best part of the trip was the haunted tour we took in uptown Charlotte on Halloween night. 

There was a massive party at the multiple night clubs attached to our hotel, and we took a peak at some of the costumes -- Nicole's favorite was a chick dressed as a piñata and mine a guy half-naked in wrestling tights. 

Our hotel was a little weary of things getting out of hand. Check out the rules:

We tried for a walking tour, but it was sold out, so we signed up for a haunted Segway tour. To my surprise, the tour was just us and the tour guide. 

The first time I got on the Segway, I ran right into a tree, only saved from crushing into it by the tour guide. Eventually, I got the hang of it and off we went on the haunted tour. 

I was still a bit scared of driving right into oncoming traffic so I didn't take out my phone and take photos of any of the haunted houses. Which is a shame. 

The tour guide was awesome and was really into the tour. I'm sure he's told the stories a billion times, but he was genuinely into them still. And since there was no one else on the tour, we basically shared our thoughts on each stop, with him listening and sometimes then explaining even more stuff and other theories. 

There was the old lady who died in her house and her ghost now requires lights be on upstairs; the store owner who read the paper as a ghost at his old store; the fireman still saving lives years after his death; the house where hangings used to take place; and Fred, the old theatre worker who would turn off the lights and equipment while movies were being shown. 

I told the guide the story of Paul getting sliced open by Bloody Mary during Gustav evacuation, and he told me a personal ghost story involving his parents. 

Just as we were finishing, a fierce wind and storm revved up. Nicole and I then argued over the amount of tip for the guide. 

Earlier in the day, we went to the New South museum. Here's the highlight of that outing. 

That's me having a TV dinner and watching the news of Dr. King's death. Very sad. 

There was also this chart, as New South not only tackled civil rights but gay rights as well. 

Learned the term pansexual, which is someone who likes transsexuals, etc., instead of just men and women like bisexuals. 

And that was our trip to Charlotte. Left the next day as it got really cold. 

NOTHING FINER THAN CAROLINA: PART II

FOOTBALL 

Nicole and I took our first couple's vacation last week to Charlotte, and I wish I were still there having fun and ignoring the grind of daily life here. 

The intended point of the trip was to watch the Saints in action on the road. I'm trying to make a tradition of going to a road game every year, though so far it's been every other year: Tampa in 2010, Denver in 2012 and Carolina in 2014. 

It's also supposed to be a group outing, but my friends apparently don't like the Saints. Or don't like me. Hmmm. 

Anywhoozles, Nicole and I had a grand old time watching the Saints whoop that ass at Bank of America Stadium, except when she dropped her phone and the glass cracked. 

We saw a Saints fan get kicked out after a verbal and somewhat physical confrontation with a Panthers fan -- he nonchalantly knocked off the other guy's hat. Ooooo. I told Nicole he was definitely from the West Bank. 

We went briefly to a Saints tailgate before the game -- we were told about its secret location by another Saints fan in our hotel lobby. We saw Saints fans dancing in large groups in the street after the victory, which brought my record to 2-1 in road trips. Next up, Washington, D.C.  

And I took these photos. 

Bank of America is 20 years old and doesn't look a day older than five. It's aging like Jennifer Aniston. 

The concourse is huge, with no traffic to sift through at all when walking about. Wouldn't that be nice at the Dome? They also have a giant screen that shows the replay of every play immediately after the play from two separate angles.

Calling Mr. Benson. Calling Mr. Benson. Time to join the 21st century. 

Champions of what? ... I should have asked a worker if only Saints fans were allowed to enter. 

We were in the sixth row of the end zone. Anyone know why Brees always stands away from the huddle? Does he smell?

This is at a cozy little park across the street from the stadium after the victory. Pretty cool looking, eh?

Sam Mills and I the day after the game. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

The nurse, who told my mom a month ago that she had a couple weeks left, told her this week that she's nowhere near dying and that she's just fading slowly. Thanks for the emotional roller coaster, lady. 

Mom enjoyed some medicine. "Fucking Valium. Make you not give a shit about nothing."

Here are two of my favorite quotes from mom from last month. 

"I'm scared to look at my breast. Probably some fucking tumor sticking out."

This one is a classic when she was letting out her frustrations on me. "I'd like to take these fucking tumors I got moving in me and put them in you for five fucking minutes."

NOTHING FINER THAN CAROLINA: Part One

HOOPS AND ART

Nicole and I took our first couple's trip last week to the fine, squeaky clean city of Charlotte. It wasn't meant to be just us   -- all you folks who refused to go really missed out -- but I'm glad that's how it turned out. 

We flew out Wednesday morning and returned Saturday afternoon, a little more haunted, a little closer and of course, with a Saints victory. 

Charlotte was a fun city, though it's nothing spectacular. The people were friendly, and there were plenty of solid food options in walking distance. They had a few nice parks, with some nice scenery. I enjoyed our time there for sure. 

Our hotel was in uptown Chatlotte and attached to the Epicenter, which has a bowling alley, movie theatre, bars and restaurants -- both fancy and fast food. It also hosted Buzzfest on Wednesday before the first Hornets home game in Charlotte since the team moved to New Orleans. 

Let's take a look at some photos. 

I wore my Pelicans shirt to the Hornets party. Not one person made a comment about it. C'mon, Charlotte. I love this ironic photo. The worker at the station, as everyone else, didn't notice. 

It's first one to make 10 wins. I was challenged by this teenager. Kicked his ass. Then played Nicole, who jumped to a lead before succumbing to my awesomeness. 

At another Buzzfest station, there was a wheel to spin for little prizes. What did I win? Two tickets to the game that night. 

Also, former NBA commissioner David Stern was doing a radio interview and taking a few pictures. Nicole shoved me to the front of the line, and I got the last picture with Stern before his interview. 

Before the game, we grabbed some pizza and dessert. Yum, chocolate. 

It was electric at the basketball arena, as the Charlotte fans were over the moon to have their mascot back. The free tickets I got had a face value of $43 each for the upper level in the corner. 

Boy was it fun to chant "Let's go Hornets!" one more time. We ended up leaving at halftime with four T-shirts commemorating opening night. Two were on our seats, and I'm pretty sure Nicole stole the other two. 

Hey, Tom. How about one of those fancy screens at the Smoothie King Center?

On Thursday, we started at the Mint Museum, which was a nice walk from our hotel in some breezy weather. It had art and shit. 

Felt like being at home outside the museum. I put a dollar in his can. He said "I got ya" and busted into "When the Saints."

Here are my favorite pieces from da Mint. 

I forgot this guy's name, but he helped the Revolution with supplies and was condemned as committing treason in England. He doesn't exactly look happy about his contributions to American history. Maybe he knew his name would be forgotten a few days later. 

An example of American landscape by Thomas Doughty. There's a bunch of fisherman dotted among the scenery, which is really cool because they're little dots, yet so vivid-looking. 

This painting is by an abstract artist who went more traditional to show the Civil Rights march from Selma to Montgomery. She didn't mean for it to be sold, and it was found in her studio rolled up in a corner after she passed away. 

A security guard was familiar with the piece and turned into a tour guide, explaining that the artist put herself in the watching crowd at the top, placed Dr. King as just another marcher and showed the protesters as non-violent as they were taught to protect their heads. 

This is called Slow: Eleven Women and 400 Daisies. Each year 20 or so daisy magnets are removed until this golden plated women is fully revealed. The portrait of the women is a combined form from 11 chicks. 

There was an accompanying video I watched that didn't explain shit about the art. It just had the artist explain his other ideas for the project before he settled on the women and daisies. Thanks a lot. 

In the next post, I'll talk about going to the Saints' 28-10 victory over the Panthers. Here's a sneak peak of me on the TV broadcast. Look in the lower left corner. I'm clapping. 

THREE FUN NIGHTS

SOVIET STREET WALKERS

Last Tuesday, I assembled a trivia team to compete at the Mid-City Bulldog. Our team was named after a recent Rock insult. 

At the halfway point, we were tied for second place and before the final question, we were in second. 

We got the bonus to surge to a victory and a $50 gift card. It was a real team effort. And we gave a 100 percent. 

We agreed to cash in the gift card later, but after a few people left, Joe, Bob and I split a $15 pitcher. Sorry, Bert. 

SHE SAID SHE ATE CORN DOGS

Nicole and I went to the Katy Perry concert last Wednsday night. Suffice to say, I loved it. 

I was surprised by how many young girl fans she has. I get that she wears bright colors, but the lyrics are not little girl appropriate. Here's a picture we took from our seats. 

As for the rest of my experience, I thought I'd tell you about it with a song, parodying Last Friday Night, which, of course, is not little girl appropriate. It is my second or third favorite Katy Perry song. 

Last Wednesday Night

There's little girls in the seats

There's crazy traffic in the streets

Balloons all over the rena

Pink light sticks, cleopatra

I feel like a girlie man

Max was her biggest fan

A selfie taken in the pit

Did Max just touch her tit?

A picture of last week

Ended up online

I'm screwed

Oh well

I'll get poked fun at

But I love that kitty cat

Damn

Last Wednesday night 

Yeah we danced in the crowd

And we screamed a bit too loud

Think we roared but I forgot

Last Wednesday night

Yeah we saw the fireworks

And dancers and their twerks

So we lived our teenage dream

Last Wednesday night

She was walking on thin air

Wore a dress that made me stare

Then had a birthday sex song

Last Wednesday night

Yeah I think I saw a horse

Wish she didn't ever stop-op

ooh-ohh

This Wednesday night
Listen all again 
This Wednesday night
Listen all again

Trying to recall the stage

The long wait caused some rage

Think her jokes hit the spot

One about kale and then pot

Wardrobe changes were fun

After Cali girls she wasn't done

Think she played on a guitar

I was watching from afar

Repeat chorus

PAUL'S NERDIE ASS TURNS 30

Paul's 30th birthday was last Saturday, and he had a dress as your favorite hero/villain party at his house. 

I told him that like any other Saturday night, I would be working. But through a little luck, I was off and surprised him, as Indiana Jones. 

The costume was complete with Indiana Jones shirt, man purse, hat and whip. I spent too much on it, but oh well. Kelly and Nicole went as Batman and Robin. 

AND THEN THERE WAS ONE

YOU CAN BARBECUE 'EM ...

My mother had another good day Wednesday. Thursday was a disaster, but let's focus on the good day. 

Last week, she gave a list of three things she wanted before she died. I already got her the chocolate, and Wednesday I took her to Deanie's for barbecue shrimp. Just the filet to go. 

She got the barbecue plate. She ate the whole salad, the whole bread and all 12 shrimp. Then she said "How about dessert?"

We got the gold brick. It had three gold bricks filled with ice cream with a brownie underneath. Yum. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Mom isn't sure what to do with herself a lot of the time these days. "What am I gonna do? I'm fucking dying."

Most of her conversation is dominated by pain. "I can feel the tumors crawling on my fucking neck." At first she called the moving tumors creepy crawlers. The other day she changed the name to "fuckers."

Mom thinks God is out to get her. "He's gonna make me feel every fucking pain. He wants me to feel every little fucking thing."

On the drive to Deanie's, she discussed her medical bills. "Fucking insurance companies. They don't give a fuck."

We passed a jewelry store. 

Me: Look, he went to Jared. 

Mom: And he got fucked. 

From Friday: 

On the weather: "It's so fucking hot."

On elections: "They got their fucking posters all over the place."

On not finding her favorite ice cream at several stores: "I'm tired of this bullshit."

SOME THOUGHTS

I would like to take this space to thank everyone who has helped or offered encouragement during this time. Your support means a lot. 

I wish I would have known about Death with Dignity before this week, like six months ago. I also wish mom hadn't read about it yesterday. 

I have tried to put mom's key into my front door and vice versa about 10 times in the past three weeks. 

On an unrelated note, read the lyrics to Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night" and think about the current sex scandal. Eerie. 

I'VE BEEN STAYING WITH HER

IT WAS A GOOD DAY

On Thursday, mom felt better than she has in the past four weeks. It was short-lived as Friday was not such a good day. 

But Thursday she felt good. We even left the house. She wanted eggs and bacon, so off we went to Waffle House, where she got that plus hash browns and a pecan waffle. 

Mom said she wants to eat three more things before she goes: rocky road from the chocolate factory in Clearview Mall, barbecue shrimp and filet mignon. 

We stopped at Clearview on Thursday to knock out the first one before heading to a hospice house to take a tour. An eventful day for her all in all. 

I was glad to see her moving a little bit and get out the house. Might have been the last time for that. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Along with her feeling better and getting out and about, my mom's famous mouth was on fire Thursday. Enjoy. 

Mom got a new credit card bill for $5.13 even though she payed the previous bill in full. "Fucking credits cards. I wasn't even gonna pay the fucking thing last month."

Mom was pondering her situation. "How does God decide who gets cancer? The lady across the street when I was a kid smoked Camel cigarettes non filtered and drank Dixie beer every day of her fucking life. She lived to her 80s."

She kept going. 

"Or Keith Richards. He did every fucking drug on earth. Gets to see his fucking great grand kids."

New apartments are going up on Hickory. "This is a fucking mess." Then to the guy directing traffic. "Get the fuck out of here."

An 18-wheeler almost hits me switching lanes as I hit the horn several times. "Fucking truck drivers."

CHECK THIS SHIT OUT

As you may know, I went to a Saints road game in October 2010 and caught a ball that Robert Meachem tossed to me after he scored a touchdown. 

Lopes' girlfriend said she could get it signed, and I gave it to her. She didn't get it signed and didn't give the ball back to me until October 2011. 

I was so happy to have my ball back I didn't let it leave my house for the next few years. But October 2014 came, which is four years later. And ... 

Nicole found out through the Twitter that Meachem does signings just about every week. He was at Fox and Hound this week, and Nicole got there early to be first in line. So without her, it would still be sitting on my couch unsigned. 

Of course, the pen he used at first didn't work fully. He had to get a second pen and go over the few marks the first pen made before finishing his signature. 

Also, he wasn't as excited as you would hope he would be about the ball. 

Me: You caught this ball for a long touchdown at Tampa four years ago.  

Meachem: I did that?

Me: Yeah. I've been waiting four years to get you to sign it. 

Meachem: OK. 

I'M NOT TOO BRIGHT

I was signing up for 5 percent back on credit card purchases at Best Buy for the next three months. 

I typed in my card number and was listening to the system explain the restrictions, which are so obvious. 

Me: No shit. 

System: You have chosen not to accept 5 percent back. Thank you for your call. 

Me: Operator just said I declined the offer. 

Mom: Yeah, cuz you said no shit. 

Me: Oh. 

IT'S BEEN A MINUTE

I THINK I ENTERTAINED EVERYONE WATCHING

So much has happened since my last post, I can't mention it all in this entry. 

Let's start with my softball team, which lost a heartbreaker in the playoffs. Just one or two plays away. 

The highlight was when a dude crushed a ball to left center, and I was in left. I took off on a mad dash and had a beat on the ball. (FYI, I'm so distracted writing this I actually typed phone instead of ball at first at the end of the last sentence. Read that back.)

I realized I needed to dive to catch the ball, but as I went to lift off the ground to extend for the ball, I ran into a deep puddle. I ended up sliding through this puddle for about 10 feet. 

The ball splashed into the pond at the same time. My glove couldn't have been more than a foot from the ball. Ugh. I popped up and threw the ball back to keep it at a triple. 

Would have been the best co-ed softball catch of all the times. 

THE PAST COUPLE WEEKS IN PICS

Joe took me to the opening of Yulman Stadium on Sept. 6. Football is back Uptown. 

As I entered campus and began looking for Joe, Tulane coach Curtis Johnson just walked right by me in the street. Like that would ever happen at an LSU game. 

Stadium was pretty bad ass. 

Joe's seats are so close it's virtually guaranteed he will end up on the field punching a ref at some point. In fact, he was pretty dang close on this day after a dreadful call, where it was clearly a fumble but an incomplete pass was called. 

Tulane lost and it was hot as shit, but it was still a good time. I'm glad I went, even though it was also Nicole's birthday. 

I surprised her with a trip to Hammond. Bert and Kelly came along. This is the gals in front of their old house in Hammond during their SLU days. 

Nicole has talked quite frequently about her favorite restaurant ever, Tommy's Pizza in Hammond. 

So I took her there for her birthday. I didn't tell her where we were going, and she had guesses. She wasn't even close. She was totally surprised! 

There's Nicole eating her pizza. Yum. Kelly then drove us all around Hammond, including campus, and Kelly and Nicole argued about if places where there or not when they lived there seven years ago. 

A successful birthday all in all. 

Last Monday, Paul and I went to Lafayette for Raw. WWE gave us second row seats. 

The Cajundome barely has any workers in the building. So Paul and I roamed around the blocked off seats and peaked backstage. We found this construction helmet in a part of the building that should have been roped off. 

That's a great joke. I'll let you figure that one out. 

The second row was amazing, and we were on TV several times. Look how close I got to Stardust. 

I also got a wrestler's attention by doing a little known chant. He responded by looking at me and then doing the chant along with me. I'm such a nerd, I know. 

There's Paul's stupid face on TV behind a pissed off John Cena. 

All in all a good trip to Cajun country. 

OTHER STUFF

I had dinner for the first time with Nicole's parents Wednesday night. Texas Roadhouse on the West Bank. Gene Ducote was not there. But another enjoyable evening. 

The Saints season is three weeks old. I'm depressed. They don't look so hot. Meanwhile, I've been killing it with Saints stats. I've posted the links on Facebook. The latest on Colston is off the hook. 

A disturbing exchange I overheard at Fox and Hound between two gentleman in support of Adrian Peterson and Ray Rice. 

Man 1: "Man, you can't tell no one what they can and can't do to their kids."

Man 2: "Yeah. And women and children have too many rights in this country."

My response: Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. 

And there's this pic from my car Monday night. 

LIGHTNING NEVER STRIKES TWICE

CAN I HAVE THE LANGUAGE OF ORIGIN?

Nicole and I recently gathered a bunch of VHS tapes to convert to DVD. One of the ones I'm having done has some Tina-shot classic videos from 1991 and 1992. 

I suggested we watch it, and when I hit play, the video was at the start of a Spelling Bee. Exciting as I won the first grade Bee on the word sheep. 

However, as the contestants dwindled, I realized that this was the 1992 Bee when I started a lifelong string of second places. Finishing behind Holly Masson is a lowlight of my academic career, and now I was reliving it. 

I've never forgotten the word I lost on, but what I didn't remember is that I actually misspelled five words in the second grade Bee. That's right, I got five words wrong in one Spelling Bee. 

When it got down to two, Holly butchered "disappear." All I needed to do was spell disappear, and I would make it back-to-back Bee titles. I implored my past self, "Two Ps." Alas, I spelled it disapear. Then came volcano and experiment. Got those wrong, too. 

Finally, lightning came. Me: "L-I-G-H-T-I-N-G." Holly added the "n" for the win. 

But I got the last laugh because on Monday night, I came across and fixed a misspelling in a story about nasty weather. The misspelled word? Lightning. It was spelled lightening. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom has been reminiscing about her wedding day. She changed during the reception into a going away outfit. "I never liked it. You lose thirty minutes of the fucking reception. Changing out of the fucking thing. It's bullshit."

I forgot the context, but there was this gem. "Miami was built on drugs. Miami can thank cocaine for all those fucking skyscrapers."

A Ramsey's jewelry add says there's no need for negotiation because its prices are so fair. "Shit. There's a 200 dollar markup."

BACK, BACK, BACK ...

Last Wednessay, I played two softball games. In a previous post, I bragged about my sterling defense. This time, my bat did the talking. 

My final stat line: 6-for-6 with three walks. In the first game -- a 10-9 extra inning victory -- I went 2-for-2 with three walks, as the pitcher was afraid of me. 

It was the second game -- in which I was helping out a shorthanded team -- that was the real highlight. Among my four hits were two doubles and my first softball home run. 

On an inside pitch that crossed the plate at my thighs, I crushed the ball down the left-field line. There is no fence at this field, but the ball cleared the left fielder by some 15 feet.

When I was rounding second, he was still running down the ball. I jogged home. 

I finished the regular season in this league  15-for-20 with four walks. Hopefully, I didn't just jinx myself into an 0-for-3 playoff showing this Wednesday. 

THE 90TH YAT-TOGETHER

On Aug. 20, we had our eighth anniversary monthly dinner. I brought along Nicole to meet everyone. It seemed to go well. Here are the pictures. 

That bronze tanner was my anniversary gift to my fellow 2006 Loyola graduates. Past anniversary presents include gold medals, candy and a roll of pennies. 

One of the eight-year choices is bronze, and I thought it would be funny to get them some tanner. They seemed to enjoy it. I'm waiting on the selfies with it in use. 

For the dinner, we went to Ignatius. Iggy founded Loyola, so this makes sense. And here he refuses to share his drinks with me. "No," he said. "Mine."

For dessert, we went to District for donuts. They were about to close and ended up giving us a shit ton of free donuts. 

OH THE PLACES YOU'LL GO

MONDAY MONDAY

I started and stopped my car 12 times Monday. It was a busy 11 hours. Here's where I went:

1. Mom's house at 11 a.m. Waited for her to get ready. 

2. Post office. Mom got stamps. Probably the second time I've ever been in a post office. Strange place. 

3. Sally's in Elmwood. She bought some product. Somebody cut us in line to check out. We were waiting for the cashier to come, and when she finally came back, this other last just shoved her products to the cashier and started yapping like she belonged first in line. Wasn't worth it to say anything. But the nerve of some people. 

4. Old Navy. Across the street. Mom couldn't make the walk, so we drove the fifty feet. Old Navy didn't recognize her card, so we didn't get the coupon she was trying to use. Mom was pissed. She stormed out. 

5. The bank. Mom has had the same bank since she was 15. 

6. Oriental Triangle. We were going to have lunch, but mom had this excruciating pain, so I called the doctor's office at 1:08 p.m from the Chinese parking lot. There was an appointment available for 1:30. 

7. Doctor's. He suggests that her new pain is from needing a massage. Well, several messages. 

8. Outback. Actually had lunch. I told Nicole to pick me up some steak Sunday night, but she refused and only brought me catfish that her aunt made. I had a craving, though, and Outback was right there. We split a brownie for dessert. 

9. Mom's house. I gave her a massage and felt a lot of knots. 

10. Grandma's. She made porkchops and baked spaghetti, and I picked some up for dinner. Best baked spaghetti ever. Had a long talk with my dad and received more bad news. 

11. Work. Got three hours of overtime to read some stories for the prep preview. 

12. Home just before 10. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is watching a soap opera she doesn't normally watch. "This bitch. Leaves soaps saying she wants to do more stuff and now she's doing soaps again. Her character on the Young and the Restless is about to come out of a coma."

She continued. 

"Who would let someone stay in a fucking coma for over a year anyway? If I woke up from that, I'd kill my kids."

Even before we got to the doctor Monday, mom was saying she needed a massage. "If a masseuse were to touch my neck right now, they'd wonder how I was fucking still alive."

Mom couldn't figure out why this lady wouldn't return her phone calls. She got an answer Tuesday. "Her kids thought it would be a good idea to throw the fucking phone into the pool. So she didn't have a phone for three days."

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Wednesday marked a double anniversary for yours truly. We celebrated our eighth anniversary for Yat-Together dinners. Can't believe we've been doing this since August 2006. 

And on August 20, 2001, I had my first day at da paper to train on the computer. That's 13 years if you're bad at math. 

AROUND MIDWAY IN NINE DAYS

EMPTYING THE OLD NOTEBOOK

As Joe and I await boarding for our plane ride back to Nawlins, I thought I'd tell you about all the stuff that was noteworthy on my vacation that didn't make it into a previous post.

Excited? You should be. 

S-O-D-A SODA

Pepsi is everywhere in the Midwest. Normally at home, I just ask for a Coke, but here I trained myself to say Pepsi please. 

My travels were more noteworthy for the places that carried Coke: Jimmy Johns, the Oven Grinder and parties -- the wedding and this extravaganza the Field Museum was setting up for when they kicked us out. 

BEST QUOTES

"Going to Belize for fun is not being boring." -- some rich white girl to her friends as she passed us on the street. 

"Four and three quarters." -- little boy to TSA agent when asked his age. 

"It's life-changing because I don't have to plan a wedding anymore." -- Katie when Joe asked if she felt any different now that she was married. 

"There was this guy named Chris Farley. He made a movie called Beverly Hills Ninja." -- Young college student to his friend at the Willis Tower as they discussed comedy. 

"I want all the credit cards!" -- drunk fan at Tuesday's game. It was his birthday, his friends cut him off, but he wanted more booze. 

LIVING QUARTERS

Joe and I stayed in a hostel, a block away from Wrigley Field. I didn't like sharing a bathroom and shower with a whole floor, but whatever. Look at our digs. 

Joe couldn't believe that no other Cubs fans where staying here. I couldn't believe they only gave us one towel each for four days. Plus, I was ill for the four days, and bathroom visits were frequent. 

I heard four languages spoken in the hostel -- German, French and what I guess was Chinese. It was like living in a United Nations dormitory. 

Also, it seemed like every time I opened my door, there was a different person living in the hallway. The dude would be sitting against the wall chilling next to his suitcase, with his phone plugged into the wall next to the kitchen sink. 

Next day, different person. Same thing. Weird. 

I LOVE CHOCOLATE

After pizza Wednesday night, we went down the street to Molly's cupcakes on Nicole's recommendation. At $4 a pop, they probably should be better. I got the chocolate decadence. 

Chocolate cream oozed out of the cake when I lifted it. Needed a fork to finish. Wanted a second cupcake, but I didn't want to feel like a fatty. 

After cupcakes, we stumbled into trivia night at some college bar. I ordered a Blue Moon, and some hot Blue Moon chicks happened to be working the room. They gave us Blue Moon bottle openers. With only a two-man team, we didn't fare well at trivia. 

Our most impressive correct answer was name three of the four countries that are less than 100,000 square miles and border the Persian Gulf. Obviously, Kuwait -- you know, from the Gulf War. Joe added Qatar -- home of the 2022 World Cup -- and I got UAE, where Abu Dhabi is the capital. 

TIE ONE ON

Nicole got me a tie for the wedding to represent the homeland. It was purple with a bunch of little Louisianas, interspersed with pelicans and magnolias. It got several compliments. 

ROYALTY CHECK COMING

At a bar last Thursday in Champaign, Lindsay tells me that her boyfriend makes video game T-shirts to sell at conventions. I gave her this idea for a shirt: My Call of Duty is to play Call of Duty. 

GET THIS SHIT

In one of those watershed realizations moments, Joe explained to me -- while we were eating pizza, of course -- that the Interstate system is numbered on purpose. 

Evens -- like I-10 -- go east-west and odds go north-south. And even crazier: the I-10 is 10 because it's so far South. It goes higher the farther up you go. 

My mind was blown. 

LEFTOVER PHOTOS

The Chicago River, where Joe and I took a romantic boat tour in 2010. 

The Bogner family pool. 

A leopard killed in Africa in 1896. 

DePaul University. That soccer field was being constructed when we visited in 2010. 

Our hostel on North Sheffield. 

And that's it from Chicago. I'll miss the pretty women -- so many more people in Chicago and thus more pretty ladies -- and the tights they all seem to wear, the pizza, Wrigley Field and the endless Cubs merchandise that's on sale at every corner. 

But most of all, I'll miss you, Chicago. Your homeless might give speeches when they beg, but I love you anyway. 

See you in 2018.