Of the thousand or so people that took pictures of us, here are two that I found on the internet. I forgot to write down who they are so I could attribute it to them, so just close your eyes and acknowledge the quality photography.
Last week, for no reason really, I went to New Orleans for a few days with Chad. In honor of him, I’m gonna blog—with words, like the old days of 2007.
First of all, NOMZ lives in New Orleans and we saw her. Here she is pictured drinking an enormous frozen goblet of Coors Light. More on that later.
I know New Orleans is a lot more than dark bars full of people drinking cheap beer in the daytime, but I’m not particularly interested in talking about those other things. It does the dark bar daytime drinking thing as well as any place I’ve ever been or imagined. This bar in particular does it perfectly.
Another thing it does really well is sandwiches. Muffuletta at Napoleon’s:
People get all complicated with their ideas for businesses, adding unnecessary expenses to make customers comfortable when all you really need are gigantic frozen goblets of Coors Light. It’s a proven business model. Liuzza's (the picture above Chad's head is of it underwater during Katrina) also had a delicious catfish poboy.
People have also gotten overcomplicated with bathroom technology. As far as I’m concerned it should’ve stopped with the put-some-ice-in-a-trough method.
Rather than create a narrative about five days in California and Oregon, which would require comprehension of time and space, I’d rather just comment on some pictures.
First, following in the first rule of American salesmanship, this guy yells obscenities at passersby, then sells them tea, further proving that people love being belittled, all the while justifying my personal work philosophy.
If every restaurant and bar in the world served some version of roasted bone marrow, it would be fine with me. This particular version is from Alembic, has capers and some other stuff, and was served to us by a very sad and weeded bartender who had to make lots of deconstructed Mint Juleps for tourists. He was particularly bummed about the fact that he was still waiting for his grenadine to cool, which is a problem I will likely never encounter.
The trip incorporated about 1200 miles of driving from San Francisco to Eugene, OR and back, a trip which gave me some form of back cancer that makes me walk like a comical old man. Ana and Amy find that HILARIOUS.
Somewhere in San Francisco, somebody’s idea of a treasure chest is an oversized plastic container covered in affirmations.
Meanwhile, in Myrtle Creek, OR, the Dairy Queen has a cheeseburger eating competition that started in 2003 and seems to have reached its pinnacle on May 3, 2008, when dudes named Ammon and Tony ate 14 1/2 and 16 cheeseburgers, respectively.
The rules for the contest, which were on another unpictured sign, read something like this: “The cheeseburger contest rules: Eat more than the guy who came before you. Ask employees for details.” We didn’t ask, but I’m pretty sure the details would include them telling us that we needed to eat more than 16 cheeseburgers. I had a Blizzard instead.
In Eugene, restaurants have signs that tell you that you’re entering a “Hate-Free Zone.” Lucky for us they didn’t do a hate search, cuz they would’ve probably kicked us out. Also, the picture of George Bush in the bathroom seemed to be covered in hate. Hippies have never been sticklers for consistency.