Sunday, November 23, 2008

Hot Guys Love Sandwiches

The Oak Street Po-Boy Festival was today! Banners read "S.O.S. Save our Sandwiches," and the event was hosted by the Po-boy Preservation Society. I didn't know the Po-boy was endangered! I was so upset when I found out that I promptly drove to Oak Street and waded through the crowd, and waited in long lines to get my last bites in.

Among all the different varieties, there were no shit sandwiches present. Hallelujah, the shit sandwich must now be extinct!

Everybody was so happy! All the people, all the dogs, united sandwich-eaters. I ran into about 100 people that I know. And I had the same conversation every time. "Hi, how are you? So, what sandwiches have you tried? Well, I had the...Ok, see ya I gotta go try another sandwich."

Highlights of the day included all the good-looking boys, and the second line of folks shaking fat loaves over their heads. Bread and Circuses anybody?

I had a $2 version of Ye Olde College Inn's shrimp remoulade and fried green tomato. A friendly fireman handed me a pulled pork and slaw po-boy. But truly, I think I most enjoyed Bahn Mi Sao Mai's combo of meatballs and shredded pork with cilantro, spicy sriracha-type hot sauce, shaved carrot and cucumber.

I gazed fondly at Mahoney's peacemaker (pacemaker?), of fried oysters, bacon, and cheddar cheese, and eyed Jacques-imo's duck po-boy and Red Fish Grill's Cochon De Lait. Another time.

Leaving the festival, dehydrated and bloated in the slightly chilled air, I thought how much I am looking forward to Mardi Gras.

Click here to learn the true history of the po-boy!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

"The formerly middle-class"

David Brooks wrote an op-ed today stating that our current recession will affect the middle class more than any other sociological group. "In particular, it's likely to produce a new social group; the formerly middle class. These are people who achieved middle-class status at the tail end of the long boom, and then lost it. to them, the gap between where they are and where they used to be will seem wide and daunting."

Hmm. So, no Blanche DuBois losing it over the sale of the family estate Belle Reeve in Laurel, Mississippi; no grieving family listening to their beloved cherry orchard being cut down in late 19th century Russia, symbolizing the downfall of the aristocracy following the abolition of serfdom. Nope, this time it's about the bourgeoise. The middle-class, new money folk, who rose on their own by working hard and saving their money.

Bring on the literature exploring their plight.

p.s. I work at a fine-dining establishment. If the aristocracy is chilling, then why don't they come eat anymore???

Saturday, November 8, 2008

You Can Call Me Al

Since I turned 23 two days ago, I've been worrying about aging. Wrinkles and shit. Looks like the cosmetics industry just got me by the balls.

It's hard to be a girl. That's what she said.

When you go shopping wearing clothes that you bought at that same store recently, do you feel self-conscious? I do.

Back during sophomore year of college, a guy once told me, "You know, maybe you should get a blog," to the tune of, "Why don't you go fuck yourself." He was trying to convince me to stop sending him sappy emails to Chile, where he was studying abroad. If only he could see me now!

Last night, I went to F & M's. I know. When this guy went to the bar to buy me a drink, I left. I know. But at the time, I felt that it was the right thing to do. Have you ever done that?

I hate making that right turn from carrollton to claiborne. I always just miss the green arrow because the douche bag in front of me decides to idle on through, paying me no mind. And then I have to wait. And I want to move to a city where the only cultural advantage is being able to make a right turn on a red light. I thought that was just one of our many cultural advantages, but apparently, on this point we are inconsistent!

Parallel streets that are better than one another: Broad destroys Carrollton. Always. I prefer Esplanade to Canal or Canal to Esplanade depending on my mood. Uh, and where I'm going. Ok I just realized these comparisons are going to be way too arbitrary.

Boy Alexes have issues with their name, as does everybody else. I have never known a Boy Alex to ever go by just Alex. He and the world suggest a host of nick-names that basically sabotage his name. Girl Alexes don't have this problem. Why? I don't know.

Boy Alexes I have known: Alex Visotszky. Goes by Avis, Lex, or Favis. Alex Sugiura. The dude who writes the blog whose style this particular post mimics. Unfortunately for him, but fun for everyone else, in college, he went by "Sug," the g pronounced like "je" of the french language, basically an abomination of his Japanese last name. Oh, or he went by Al. Or Big Al. Or, if he's feeling particularly fruity, Alexander J. Alex Gonzales. Zan, or Al, or Alexander. Alex Reed. Unfortunately for him, fun for everyone else, he was dubbed "Ale," rhymes with "heeeyyy" by a bunch of fat senior football players who were in his AP Spanish class that he took as an 8th grader cuz he was smart and half-Spanish. Recently, he has dropped "Ale" like a bad habit, requesting instead, surprise, Al.

Also, Boy Alexes are nuts. Intense.

Isn't it kind of a let-down that in this age of globalization and what have you, you can never truly mourn that you might never see someone again? But then there is always death. So that should remind you not to take any one for granted.

Always read the NY Times, and always apologize, even if you are afraid the person could give two shits.

....So how'd I do?

Al of blogs like lying in bed saturday morning, half-awake, squinting your eyes at the wall as things occur to you. Sometimes I love it. It's like, "Adages" by Al. Or, "Afterthoughts" by Al. Yep, like a cologne. Or candles. Like, "Serenity" by Jan. (Those who know, know.) Sometimes I think he's lazy, and he leaves too much to the world. Dry, squinting humor. Why does that sound dirty.

I'm out.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Be A Better Person For Obama

Yesterday, when I woke up, hung-over and hopeful, I felt like it was New Year's. A new day that I, in excitement and nervous anticipation, had celebrated too much for, and then eased into with both caution and earnest. I set out with new resolutions, because I want to be a better person for Obama. Your syndicated columnists have delivered the words you pay to read, about the future of the nation, race relations, the economy, and spirit; and I, your lowly blogger, free-of-charge, can only say what this new day means to me, and maybe, to you.

Today is my birthday; I'm 23! And Obama's victory was a wonderful present. The next time I celebrate, like, tonight or this weekend, ha, it will be an earned celebration of my coming-of-age as one who tries to be a more thoughtful, harder-working person. If Obama ever knew me, I'd want him to think such things about me. Chances are, he won't, but I can live and act for him, as though he were watching over me. You should do the same, and be thankful that we now have such a role-model and leader to guide us through the coming years.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


I'm Kate Mooney and I approve this message, I think it's totally hot.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Second Line News

Check out my preview for Prospect One!