I FEEL PRETTY AND WITTY AND BRIGHT

YOU DECIDE WHO WON

On the Sunday night before Christmas and Christmas night itself, we ended up at Kelly and Bert's for impromptu game nights. 

We played a game Kelly picked up on Black Friday called Wits and Wagers. Questions are basically guess a number, percentage or date. Each player takes a guess, and the answers are lined up in order. You then bet -- you can bet on yourself or any other answer -- on which answer you think is closest without going over. 

After playing twice, Bert has proven to be the best. His guesses are straight up ridiculous. He's gotten the exact answer right several times. Me: so, did you just know that? Him: no, just figured it was around there. 

But the first time we played, he hadn't hit his stride yet. In that first game, Kelly and I tied. The group wondered aloud about the tiebreaker. I had read the rules and explained that we ask one more question and the closest wins. 

Question: What percentage of Americans admit to texting while driving? I wrote 34 percent and Kelly 41 perecnt. The answer is 37 percent, so I won by one percent. Oh the excitement!

Me: Of course, I made that tiebreaker up, though it was certainly a more dramatic solution. The actual rules say the youngest player in a tie wins. 

Kelly: Oh my god! I won! I won! 

Me: It is the lamest rule ever. 

Kelly: Shut up! I won!

So readers, who won? Do you choose the dumb makers of the game and Kelly? Or the agreed upon tiebreaker that was totally fair and legitimate and me?

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was upset that I was in a rush to eat lunch Monday. "You think I'm a robot with an energizer bunny up my ass."

I tell mom that Obama is watching the DVDs of Breaking Bad. "Probably watching in the fucking Oval Office."

Mom has had it with the neighbors. "Fucking people are killing my fucking lawn. Ruined their side and now ruining my side. Ain't fuck I can do about it. Fucking trash people, man."

TIS THE SEASON

On Christmas Eve, I stopped by mom grandma's house. My 2-year-old second cousin reminds me of myself at a young age. No socialization. Only wants to wrestle and jump on everything. Has my long blonde hair. 

And the kicker is that he is skinny -- and both his parents are heavy. So I think he got the family gene -- pun intended -- that I did. 

I wonder if Jeremiah -- I don't pick the family names -- is also going to grow up to be handsome and brilliant. 

After that, it was off to Tina's, where we watched The Sting. A 1973 classic. 

Here's what Tina cooked the week of Christmas. All if these, as usual, had several servings. 

Friday: spaghetti and meatballs. 

Saturday: the soup mentioned in the last post

Tuesday: more spaghetti and eggplant

Wednesday: pork chops with fries

And here are my favorite presents Tina got me. 

 

PICTURES FROM CHRISTMAS PARTIES

I WENT AS JIMMY CHITWOOD

Our office had a Christmas party last Friday, which is the first time we've done anything like a traditional office in some time. We don't do secret Santa or Super Bowl pools or have a water cooler. 

Tina made the meatballs, which were met with universal praise. Also you can see three of the four cakes we had. And the booze. Did I mention this party was during work?

In this shot, you can see the sandwiches, bacon-wrapped chicken and shrimp. There was also fried wings, salad and cheese. 

It was the second-best office party I've ever been to, even if half the employees no-showed because it wasn't worth their time. 

It's not Christmas season until mom makes her soup. It's corn, crabmeat, shrimp, celery and red pepper. I will eat a bowl of this stuff every day for the next 10 days. There's a lot and only two of us eating it. 

Kelly got me this cool Arrested Development shirt, among other stuff. Buster is my favorite on here. 

That's the snack spread at Bert and Kelly's Christmas party on Saturday night. The main dish was Bert's gumbo. I had three bowls. 

The theme for this year was dress as your favorite 1980s movie character. Paul, of course, broke the rules and came as The Jerk, which came out in 1979. Was it that difficult to follow the rules? It's a fucking 10-year span?

Greg came as Bender from The Breakfast Club. Nicely done. Other good costumes included David and Sarah as Darth Vader and Princess Leia and Bert and Kelly as the Keymaster/Gatekeeper from Ghostbusters. 

I don't have an explanation for this. But just know that the next morning when it was suggested we eat in the car, Kelly said, "I am not white trash. I eat my breakfast in restaurants."

Our fantasy league bought a belt that the winner gets to keep for the next year. Joe was last year's champ and had to return the belt at the Christmas party. 

Paul and Pee-wee were scheduled to square off the next day in the championship. Call this the official weigh-in. I hope we take a picture like this every year. 

And what weigh-in would be complete without a little trash talk. 

Paul: You call that a stare? 

Pee-wee: You call that a face? 

(Matt, err, Pee-wee, won by blowout.)

This was the sixth year of the Rectum fantasy league. Here are the four previous  champions, all present at the Christmas party. The fifth champion we kicked out the league, so that year is vacant. 

It was another successful Bert and Kelly Christmas party. I got just the right amount of drunk. I got a gift card to The Bulldog in Steal a Gift. Some folks broke the swing outside. 

Nicole and I defeated Bert and Leigh in beer pong. Both teams had one cup left. After many, many misses, they finally made one out of two of their balls on their turn. 

So we had a chance to tie. Nicole went first and made it. That tied it. I let mine go and knew right away that it was in. Two balls in one cup for the victory. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom recently learned of the existence of Candy Crush. "They say it's fucking addictive."

Mom and I are discussing best ofs for 2013. I ask what the biggest fad was. Mom: "That fucking song on the Internet. What does the fox say?"

IS THAT A FELONY?

SUNDAY FUNDAY

Sunday was quite an eventful TV day for me. I arrived at the Fox at 12:05 for the noon games. And I didn't stop watching TV until I went to bed. 

Bert and I bet on three NFL games. The only one at noon was we picked the Jaguars, but when the Bills beat them, our entire bet went down the tubes. Out of nine weeks betting, we have won once. 

The Dolphins defeated the evil Tom Brady  and his band of Patriots. So that was good. Even prevented a patented Brady late-game comeback. 

The Saints then came on, and that was a miserable three-plus hours. Man, this team looks so bad when it's not a night game in the Done. The line can't block, receivers can't get open, backs can't find a hole or beak tackles and that no. 9 guy gives the ball to the other team. 

The rest of the night went like this: wrestling pay-per-view (so-so historic main event with a good ending); Family Guy (Brian lives and the stupid other dog is gone. Time machines rule!); Psych the Musical (just a long episode with a couple decent songs); Homeland finale (really intense first half; boring second half). 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is obsessed with North West. "Have you seen the kid? She's fucking adorable."

Mom thinks all mixed race babies are cute. Kim and Kanye's are no exception. 

Mom: He's definitely black. She's definitely white. 

Me: No, ma. She's not white. 

Mom: What the fuck you think she is?

Mom was over Tuesday to clean my house. She didn't like a particular part. "Jesus, look at this fucking room."

SEASON'S GREETINGS

Check out this holiday card I got in the mail. 

Isn't that sweet? I am proudly displaying it in my living room. 

It came from a family friend of the people who used to live here before the people I bought the house from. 

CAN I GET A HANDLE ON THINGS?

CUZ IT'S ONE. TWO. THREE STRIKES. 

My mind was elsewhere Monday when I headed to the grocery. The main problem I discovered in the parking lot of the grocery was that I forgot my wallet. 

So I went back home, retrieved my wallet  and went back to the grocery. I bought milk, bananas and water. 

I tell you this because later in the evening I went with Bert and Kelly to our softball playoff game. On the way to City Park, I realized that I had never taken my groceries out of the car. Strike two. 

As for the softball game, we lost in the semifinals. After the fourth inning, the Apple Dumpling Gang led Pitch Please 11-10. Unfortunately, the game had several innings left. We actually lost by the 10-run rule during the sixth inning. 

I had three hits, three runs and an RBI. I also made a dead sprint shoestring catch. So no strike three for me, right? Wrong. 

We ate at Bud's postgame. Good food for getting over the depression of losing. I actually hadn't eaten there in almost a year. 

At Bud's, Kelly looked at me and said: "Is your shirt on backward?"

Well, yes. Yes it was. And there was strike three. 

I might have hit two screaming doubles and beat the tag on one with a nice slide, but I did it all with my shirt on backward. Not the jersey shirt but the long sleeve undershirt. 

Little Joe and I got milkshakes to go. There's no story there. Just thought you should know. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom has been playing her Wii as of late. Mainly, she's bowling. "I'm trying to beat that fucking 223 high score. Had six strikes in the row the other day. Then I fucked it up. I tried to play baseball. But I didn't understand what the fuck was going on."

Mom says that Chase had a problem the other day. "Somebody hacked into the motherfucker. Fucking computers. They say you can't believe the shit you see in movies, but it can be done."

On the Sons of Anarchy season finale, mom's favorite character, Tara, died. "Stabbed with a fucking fork. And then drowned in a sink."

Mom is trying to load a video on her computer. She doesn't like the pop-up ads. "Fucking shut the fuck up."

Mom had to pay her ticket for speeding in a school zone. "300 and 50 fucking dollars. More than my fucking taxes."

I tell mom that the city pays the bills with ticket money. "I don't give a fuck. They're like the keystone cops down there at court. They all there sucking on tootsie rolls."

Then later about the court process. "It's a joke. A big fucking joke."

HULKING UP

I've been watching old WrestleManias, and the power of Hulkamania has taken over my body. Look what happened when I went to take clothes out the dryer Wednesday night. 

Ripped the handle right off. 

I FOUGHT AS THE INCREDIBLE HULK

THIS IS WHAT'S UP WITH ME

Thanksgiving was awesome. I watched all three football games with two rounds of turkey. The neighbors had a feast lined up in which I partook in turkey, two kinds of mac and cheese and apple pie. 

The best part was the apple pie. Kelly made three of them. I had two pieces Thursday, two Saturday and one Sunday. It was the best pie I've ever eaten. 

Bert's cousin and her family also came. Her 3-year-old was full of energy and best the crap out of Jacob and me. We then colored together. Here's my work:

Other notes

-- My new catchphrase I've been using is "Get some." 

-- It's been difficult to stop using Hornets when referring to the local professional basketball team. I recently stopped mixing it up, but I hear people quite often calling the Pelicans the Hornets. My response is now always: "The Hornets don't play until next year."

-- I learned that Metairie means "small tenant farm" in French. Property owners up until the early 1900s paid their "mortgage" with produce. Shit, I can grow tomatoes. That would be much cheaper than my monthly payment. 

-- Some songs when they come on remind me of the movie they were prominently featured in. Whenever "Paradise City" comes on, like it did on my iPod the other day, I can only think of William Lichter in "Can't Hardly Wait."

-- Also a joy on the iPod is hearing a song I haven't heard in years, especially one that had become so overplayed that it became universally disliked. But now, it's likeable again. That happened with Smash Mouth's "All-Star" last week. All that glitters is gold indeed. Get some. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom watched an extra scene on the DVD of season 5 of Breaking Bad. She asks me if Kelly has viewed the scene. Me: What do you think?

Mom: Fuck if I know. 

IS THE PRESIDENT ALIVE?

I recently watched "Olympus has Fallen" and "White House Down" in the same week. So which tale of the White House getting taken over by a small army trying to arm nuclear bombs while one man foils the plot is better? Hmmm. 

Olympus: Jeremy Renner is better than Channing Tatum. The plot is better. It's a tighter story as Down is way too long. 

Down: The use of the child is far superior. The bad guys are more fun and have many funny lines. But it's all just too much. There are like 20 explosions in the White House and too many gun battles where nobody dies. Jamie Foxx is a better president, and it's a more educational film with many White House facts (it was once called The Presidential Palace). 

The motives in Down are much more confusing. And the twist is just there to have a twist. It's worthless really. My answer to which is better: Down was a bit more fun overall, but if I had to watch one of them again, it would be Olympus. 

But neither is as good as a four-episode story in Season 7 of 24 where the exact same thing happens. Give me Jack Bauer anyday of the week. 

SAINTLY SIGHTINGS

I haven't written about the Saints in a while. Here's what I've been thinking. 

1. The Saints haven't scored a touchdown in the second half in four of the past five games. Yikes. 

2. One thing being ignored in the Saints struggles is that the receivers can't get open. How many times has Brees dropped back to pass, had loads of time and then even more time and yet had no one to throw to, except the time he threw it to a 49er? Several times a game. 

He throws the ball away. You would think someone could break open after all that time. But no. So stop blaming just the offensive line for everything. 

3. The penalty on Ahmad Brooks a few weeks ago for hitting Brees in the neck and chin got a lot of media attention. A lot. But here's what wasn't said: The hit should have been avoided. 

Brees made the wrong read on the play, looking for Sproles, who didn't break open. By the time Brees realized this, he turned back to see his other options. As he turned, Brooks whacked him. Brooks was going to hit Brees clean until Brees turned into Brooks' hit. Bad luck for Brooks. 

But Brees could have avoided the whole thing if he had read the play correctly. Look at how open Graham is out of his break. 

Oops. The closest defender is off screen but not that close. And that is taken after Graham had taken three steps across the field with no defender there. 

4. If the Saints win the rest of their games in a dome this season, they will win the division and get a bye. Then they will win the divisional playoff game at home. So keep winning in domes equals NFC championship game. Maybe Seattle will be upset before then. 

5. Pierre Thomas continues to be the most underrated player in franchise history even as people keep agreeing with that statement. 

CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN WOMEN TO ME?

MY WRESTLING GIRL

I covered the WrestleMania XXX ticket party Friday night Nov. 15 at Champions Square. www.nola.com/festivals/index.ssf/2013/11/wrestlemania_xxx_ticket_event.html

(Paul showed up, among the several thousand, to get some John Hancocks.)

And while it was nice to meet the WWE publicity people I've been emailing this year, I was more excited to meet Ann, the  local PR go-between for me and the WWE. That's because she sounded hot on the phone. Turns out, she was hot. 

After I did my interviews and took enough notes, I started talking to Ann next to one of the autograph stands. I learned that she volunteered for the assignment at work because she likes wrestling. Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 

Granted, she was working the event and was obligated to make sure I had everything I needed. But she didn't have to talk to me for an hour and a half. The fact that we were "working" was not brought up after about 10 minutes. 

It was just us talking about life and wrestling in general. Her favorite is still Mick Foley. "I read his book in 2000." Well, shit. So did I. 

(That's the hardcore legend, Mick Foley. I have an autograph from him on a sock.)

After establishing enough groundwork and knowing I had to get going in order to write my story in a timely fashion, I said that I was going to leave and just needed to go back in the Champions Square offices to get my stuff. 

Ann: "OK, I'll wait right here."

Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 

I expected her to go back inside and converse with the other PR people. Or just leave. Not "I'll wait right here." My heart was aflutter. 

When I came back outside, she wasn't right there. She was gone. That sounded more like it. She wasn't really going to walk out with me. With my hopes dashed, I walked out as fans continued to stand in line for autographs. 

But what's this? There was Ann waiting for me on the first step leading up to the Superdome. 

Me: Oh there you are. 

Ann: Yeah. I just needed to sit down for a sec. 

Indeed. We had been standing for our whole conversation. I was once again aflutter because she had waited. Did I mention how well we were hitting it off? I had her in stitches. 

(Sir Saint agrees that Ann was into it. YES! YES! YES!)

And while the first few LOLs I figured she was being nice, after an hour and half, if she wasn't into it, she would said "Well, I have to go check on another media member" or "check in with so and so." Or something. It wouldn't have been hard to get out of the conversation. But she just kept on laughing. 

She also mentioned how hungry she was a little earlier. The media spread was grapes and crackers. So I says to her on the steps of Champions Square, "You wanna g ---"

"Oh there you are." It was her boss who sat down next to her. She introduced us, and he wouldn't shut up about 1980s wrestling. He then said, "Ann, let's go back in and check on ..."

I didn't pay attention to the rest. Off they went back to the offices. Fuck. This was finishing up a work week for them, so it's not like I could follow them and wait for her to be alone again to ask her out. 

Besides, I had a story to write. And I had her number, so I could call her. I couldn't help but wonder, though, what would have happened if her boss would have stayed inside. It seemed like she thought she was done working when I said I was leaving. We could have gotten a drink or something. 

It seemed like she was into it, but I worried about losing momentum by waiting until Monday to say something. But that's what I had to do for I only had an email and her office number. 

Sure enough when I called Monday it was like Friday night never happened. She said it was nice to meet me and looked forward to working together leading up to the actual show. 

When I asked her to come look at my personal wrestling collection that night, she said ... just kidding. I didn't do that. 

No, I asked her to a Pelicans game that Wednesday night. She said she had to work. She said it immediately. She said it definitively. She left no room for a maybe next time or how about another day. 

I felt like I had taken a body slam on the concrete. It was like my afluttering heart had been put in a figure four. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was exited about a recent Sons of Anarchy episode. "It was a fucking bloodbath."

Mom has been cleaning up poop in her backyard. "It's two cats. One doesn't have a tail. It's weird."

Me: Maybe it's not a cat. 

Mom: Oh, it's a fucking cat. 

NOT A DRY EYE IN THE TOP LEVEL. ROW 1. SEAT 16.

TIME. GOES BY. SO SLOWLY. 

I'm not much of a musical person -- though I own the soundtrack to the musicals of Scrubs, The Producers and Spamalot -- but when I saw that Ghost the Musical was coming to the Saenger, I was downright giddy. 

Jenna and Joe have season tickets, and with Joe having no interest in a non-Patrick Swayze Ghost, it was me accompanying Jenna to the theatre. 

Did I enjoy the play? You damn right I did.      There are two key ingredients to any Ghost production. 1) the love story being stronger than death and 2) the comedic relief of psychic Oda Mae. 

On the second point, Tuesday's show was a success. Even though I already knew the lines, Carla Stewart's performance stole the show. The best two scenes in the show were Oda Mae at the bank and Oda Mae first convincing Molly that Sam was there as a ghost. "Tell her ditto" might have made me cry. 

On the first point, the show was a moderate success. The first couple of scenes were good, and the two leads had good chemistry in showing the undying, if not fully expressed, love of Sam and Molly. As well, the happy ending before Sam leaves for heaven was heartwarming. 

It was just the middle that lacked. More on that in a second. 

The show was also more of a special effects display than a love story at times, and that was distracting, especially when the crazy blinking lights on stage went right in my eyes. 

Overall, I loved it and really enjoyed my trip to the new theatre. Here are some photos of the inside. 

But enough praise. Here are the top five things I didn't like about my experience:

5) I couldn't see the real ghost. You know, Patrick Swayze. Too soon?

4) The people behind us wouldn't shut up. They had a conversation about how one of them never saw the movie (Whaaaat?). They laughed during the emotional ending when Molly can see Sam and they kiss. Some people, I tell ya. 

3) The musical follows the movie like gospel as the screenwriter of the movie adapted it for the stage. But it left out two of my favorite parts. A) The guy that teaches Sam to move things doesn't say "What I wouldn't give for one drag."  B) Sam doesn't move a penny up the door to convince Molly that he is there. Instead Oda Mae recited a letter. Booo!

2) The snack stand didn't have popcorn. Jenna said they probably don't want to deal with the mess, but dammit, I wanted  popcorn. Would have gone well with the second act. They did, however, have four types of Zapps because you know, chips don't make noise and bother those around you trying to hear the play. 

1) The middle of the play ruined the chemistry of our love birds. The two leads didn't share a scene for what seemed like an eternity. What really did it was that Molly had three solo songs that were meant to show her suffering after losing the love of her life. 

Instead, she came off as whiny. The actress also wasn't a strong singer, which didn't help. So I started to cheer for Carl to kill her. Well, only a little.

I would have cut out all three songs. She just had too many scenes without Sam. Their separation made me forget how much they loved -- or dittoed -- each other. 

Anyway, see Ghost the Musical. And then we can have this conversation. 

Me: I loved it. 

You: Ditto. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom gave me a shower stand for my 30th birthday. We put it together the other day. I'm reading the steps and point out two typos. I tell mom I'm going to write a letter to the company. "Really? It's fucking instructions."

I didn't answer the door right away when she came over. "You got the TV so loud, and I'm ringing the fucking doorbell."

Mom notices that her ticket for speeding in a school zone was written before school lets out. "That motherfucker jumped the gun."