Athens, GA — A night out boozing in Athens brought many things to my attention. First and foremost, I am old. What is up with college kids enjoying hanging out at crowded bars? That’s so not fun. And why do college kids have less respect for personal space than anyone else on the planet Earth?
If I ever become wildly rich and famous, or from a more realistic standpoint, hit the Powerball, I have my philanthropy all figured out. I am going to hire a gang of muscled-up meatheads. Then, I will provide them with state of the art training facilities (imagine what Ivan Drago had in Rocky IV but 22 years newer). And, I will have an onsite doctor to write them prescriptions for any substance they need. I will then take this squadron out to college bars and have them bump into random kids. When the kid’s drunken bravado (coupled with the fact that his “boys” are with him) manifest itself, my finely trained team will commence to distributing unholy beatings.
This may seem unusual to some, and cruel to others, and a few may find it to be both. But, here’s the thing. Most of these kids haphazardly stumble through bars because they do not realize their actions may have consequences. College campuses are full of upper-middle class white kids who do not know the harsh effects of a brutal beatdown. If you’ve never had your ass kicked, it’s quite easy to walk around with your chest bowed out talking smack to anyone you chose. However, once you’ve had your nose moved to the back of your skull (without the benefit of anesthesia) you may think twice about stepping on some guy’s foot, or knocking his drink over, or grabbing his girlfriend’s ass. or just being a douchebag.
Once my plan is in place, college bars would be a more enjoyable place to hang out, and a large group of young adult males would realize that other people should be respected. Who doesn’t win here?
I must give Athens credit for this, the women are still amazing. Obviously in their looks, but now with HOPE, UGA has an abundance more brains floating around campus than in previous generations (this applies to both genders). I have been all over the country, and I will put the women of Athens up against any other college town. Oxford? Seen it, doesn’t match up. Austin? Been there, falling a little short. Tempe? Got some experience. May win a quantity versus quality battle, but it’s a hollow victory.
One thing college towns do get right is how they handle their women. Bring them in when they are 18-years-old. Full of promise. Young and nubile in every way imaginable. Keep them around for 4-5 years. After they have learned the ways of the world, become a bit more bitter and added a few pounds, they are kicked out of this utopia. I don’t understand why rich middle-aged men don’t spend more time hanging out in college towns. It’s like the Costco of trophy wives.
Andrew Healan
New Orleans comedian and host of the podcast That Sounds Reasonable
Where’s The Fun In That?
Helpful St. Patrick’s Day advice from the city of Savannah
What A Pigment
Are goth kids jealous of albinos?
From My Upcoming Duets Album
Me and “Dolly”
Heading To Detention
I was watching a medicore at best sindicated sitcom today and they had a B plot that revolved around the hall monitor. This has been a sitcom staple for my entire life. But I never went to a school that had a hall monitor. Granted, my schools also had science text books that talked about how one day man will walk on the moon. But I don’t recall any friends ever having hall monitor stories. Were there schools that actually had these? And did they always get power hungry before eventually receiving sweet and possibly even ironic justice? And, was there an inevitable move where the prinipal would make the school’s noted trouble maker the hall monitor followed by him not taking his or her job responsibilities seriously, but eventually becoming an ali of the principal?
I Wish I Was A Little Bit Taller
A sampling of my throws
Well If You Put A Nickel, Well Now, I Put A Dime Now
New Orelans, LA — Sunday brought Baccus. It was neat to see James Gandolphini. I caught nothing from Drew Brees, but his arm looked solid (yes I know the injury was to his nonthrowing arm, but several people asked). After the parade I made my way down to the French Quarter. While trolling down Toulouse, I came across Neal and Sean outside of One Eyed Jack’s. Sean had a messenger back stocked full of adult beverages (and no, it was not at all cliche to be pulling from a bottle of Jack Daniels out on the street). But even better, he had the Sewage & Water Board beads which are by far the coolest throw I’ve ever seen. Ever. Bar none. Hands down. By far. The coolest. They really were awesome. We stumbled around for a while and made many new friends, or annoyed many strangers, it’s a fine line we were walking. This was the first time I had walked more than half a block on Bourbon St. It was crowded, but managable. You couldn’t run sprints up and down the promenade, but you could move without much impediment on the banquettes and in the street. After hitting Johnny White’s Sports Bar (finally ran into Peter and Ally) and Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop (where Chuck was working too hard to hang out), we headed down to the Marigny. Spent some time at R bar with other New Orleans comedic types before heading back into the French Quarter. A few stops and then an Alibi burger with Lindsey, then called it a night.
Lundi Gras and the buzz was building. I trolled down to Riverwalk and met up with Justin and his Westbank friends. After Zulu and Rex arrived and were handed the city, fireworks were shot off. I don’t get fireworks shows. They all look the same. I’ve seen dozens, if not hundreds of fireworks shows in my lifetime, and I can’t say I could really tell the difference between them. There’s a pop, they go out in a circular fashion and in varying colors. Repeat. After all of these decades, shouldn’t firework technolgy have advanced a bit? After the pyrotechnics, a band took the stage. They hit all the New Orleans classics: Carnival Time, Mardi Gras Mambo, Walking To New Orleans, Iko Iko, They All Ax’d For You, etc. We danced around like jacksasses anyway. We then left to catch the tail end of Orpheus. On the way, Justin busted out his phone and started playing Rebirth Brass Band’s cover of Casanova, then we really started dancing like jackasses. The Harrah’s parking garage became the site of my only public urination during Carnival. Not too bad I says. Since we were at Convention Center Blvd and Julia Street, some of the bands had stopped performing by the point. This was completely unsatisfactory to us. We would start chanting for the bands to play. After a few different phrases, we found the most effective effort was to chant the name of an insurment, and that tuba players seemed to respond to this type of chant most frequently. Therefor, much of the next few hours was spent repeatedly yelling “tuba, tuba, tuba” at confused high school kids. One of the girls in the group noticed some avaliable space and suggested we move to the “median.” We all made her the butt of many jookes for the remainder of the evening as we enjoyed the parade from the neutral ground (and everyone gave the own version of why it is called such). Orpheus was a damn good show, gotta give credit to Harry Connick, Jr for putting together a great krewe and a helluva parade. When the parade wrapped, well time to bounce around the French Quarter. I finally got to hang out with Peter. Shared a few beers at MRB and even talked to SteveO, who didn’t bother to let us know he was in town. And, I got to talk to Roger and hear some of his horror stories and remind me I was missing nothing from my former profession.
After getting in about 6:30 AM, I wasn’t too optimistic about making all of the Mardi Gras activties. When Erin and Lauren woke me up about 8:00 AM to ask if I was ready for Zulu, it took a few seconds to motivate myself awake. We then picked up Jodi and Kat and had our Mardi Gras crew together. The girls had written a cute little Mardi Gras song, but I cannot even come close to remembering it (other than it’s the only song not by Benny Grunch and the bunch that mentions Mardi Gras and peeing). Zulu was all it was supposed to be. Some quality floats, some good bands and some amazing dancers. We caught some pretty good throws, but I didn’t get anything I was looking for. Erin got a walnut and a coconut. My streak of catching nothing from Saints players continued as Joe Horn and Devry Henderson has nothing for me. As Rex kicked off, we began making our way up St Charles Ave. After taking in a bit of Rex (which honestly bores me to near tears), we decided it was food time. Erin and Lauren went to see about getting a table at Superior Grille (I didn’t like their chances). Sure enough, a few minutes later, they called and were already being seated. When we arrived, Lauren was quite proud of herself for thinking of going to the resturaunt and checking on seating. She said “I had an idea on Mardi Gras, and it was a good one.” After lunch and a few drinks it was time to head home. We saw what had the early ingredients of a violent race fueld gun battle, but were able to duck out to a side street and have no idea how it turned out. I listened to my body and went down for a nap. Later that night, I headed to the French Quarter, and even though it had held off for over a week, the rain began to fall. Not wanting to deal with the weather and the crowd, I just called it an early night.
Morning broke, Ash Wednesday had arrived. I enjoyed Carnival. I enjoyed seeing old friends and making new ones. With my first Mardi Gras as a civilian in the books, I look forward to adding many more.
Throw Me Something Mister
At Orpheus on Lundi Gras
…And Everybody’s Having Fun
New Orleans — Even though I spent a few years in The Crescent City I never got to really experience Mardi Gras, until this year. No 18 hour work days, no being annoyed by all of the revelers, I was one of them. And man, was I missing out. I had the advantage of having friends and knowing my way around. Traversing the city is still a bit difficult. Many traffic signals are still out of order and man do I miss the St Charles street car line. Definitely makes those uptown-downtown trips more difficult.
I arrived on Wednesday, which happened to be Valentine’s Day. Like every other holiday, I was pretty much oblivious to this. Took a little Uptown driving tour and checked out the damage from the previous evening’s toranadoes. Had I not known about the storms, the destruction and clean up wouldn’t have even been noticed. I performed at Lucy’s Retired Surfers Bar. It’s a great venue and my other shows there had always gone over gangbusters. Not the case on that particular evening. The crowd was mostly comics, and the few civilians in attendance were more of a hindrance than a help. Most of their responsiveness was ill timed (shouting out answers to rhetorical questions and the such). It was great seeing and performing with the old crew: Dane Faucheux, Jeremy Alexander, Sean Patton, Neil Stasny, Vydra, Bil Dykes, Scotland Green and the world’s best door girl Renee. After the show was the usual migration to Vic’s Kangaroo Bar. Laughs were shared and unsuspecting people were ridiculed. I had the always awkward situation of meeting “MySpace friends.” But it was nice to see Erin and Georgia in all three dimensions. I then went and hopped around the French Quarter for a while. Nice to run into old friends and hit the familiar haunts. I ended up hanging with Amber (one of my temporary roommates in the months after Katrina) at Alibi. With a few imbibements in her system, Amber has a tendency to want to wrestle with me. This particular evening, she was in more of a boxing mood. By the morning, I was covered in bruises. She packs a pretty mean punch. It was nice to get in from a night drinking at 9:00 AM. My first day back in New Orleans usually hits me a bit harder. Spending a few nights before I arrived drinking myself back into shape paid off.
Friday was lunch with Erin at Juan’s Flying Burrito. I know New Orleans is chock full of five star restaurants, but it’s my little neighborhood places I miss and always have to eat at on on return trips. She had just interviewed for a new job at Zoo. I wished her well, not just for her own personal success, but so one day when she is at work I can call and ax for her at the Audubon Zoo. That evening, we got ready to hit the parades. The local Rite Aid was running short on canned beer, so we loaded up on High Life tall boys and rounded out the selection with some Steel Reserve High Gravity (it’s like a dorm party in a box). As sparse as the beer selection was, the cooler and ice selection was nonexistent. We crapped out on things to keep beer cold in and with at Walgreens as well. But, sometimes, desperation leads to invention. While the drugstore didn’t have coolers, they did have buckets. These worked out nicely. They’d hold the beer, were lightweight and had a convenient handle. We then decided we had the making of a new Mardi Gras tradition. These buckets could be decorated and become the preferred way to carry beverages of parades. All full of ourselves with our bucket genuineness, we headed to St Charles and Constantinople and met Matt. He was really excited because he had just gotten approval for a new project at NASA. As interesting as space travel seems, the process of getting the shuttles into space is quite uninteresting. The spot on the route we chose was apparently where riders reloaded or grabbed a drink. We did however discover another advantage of the bucket. I reached down for a beer and found a light up throw sitting in the ice. Big score. Hermes was fun and Krewe d’Etat was all I had hoped for. The floats had the expected targets of Nagin and Blanco, but also hit up the local media with a float dedicated to Garland Robinette and one lampooning Vince Marinello. Later we ran into Kerri. It was nice to see her, even if this time she was wearing clothes and wasn’t wearing handcuffs. After hanging out at some friends houses we went to Magazine Street and hit up Balcony Bar where we ran into Sean Paton (a recurring theme). Then my friend Nikki picked us up to head down to the French Quarter. In an unexpected twist, Nikki and Erin actuallym knew each other, as Nikki’s roommate was Erin’s friend Jamie. Snack time at Angeli On Decatur was all I remembered (yes I got to eat at Angeli and Juan’s in the same day). The group then struck stopped by Johnny White’s Sports Bar and Rio before heading to Alibi. Billy met us there looking like a street urchin as usual. Then the night just took off. Swung by to see Ramzey. Hung out with various groups of random strangers. Then spent entirely too long hanging out with Kris at Jemini. Then I made my way around to a few of my favorite morning bars. When I finally turned in about 2:00 PM the next afternoon, my body needed much more sleep than I had scheduled… to be continued
Waiting For My Coconut
At Zulu on Mardi Gras