Archive for category New Orleans
It’s my birthday, so Sue me
"Abandon all hope of not stuffing your face, ye who enter here"
I hope my last meal looks something like this (but with a side of cheese fries).
I have a framed picture of this meal on my desk, next to photos of my wife and daughter.
Don't trust Crocodile Douchedee, Sue. In the end, he'll take you down for a death roll at the bottom of the lake.
Diary of a Wimpy Run 2: Real World Boogaloo
Posted by Rob in Fitness, Humor, Music, New Orleans, Uncategorized on September 17, 2010
This next phase of my run is really the most dangerous. The first problem is that it’s still early and I’m not really warmed up yet. Pausing for traffic gives me time to think about quitting. My legs are still angry with me for dragging them out for this nonsense and I’m starting to think of things I should probably be doing instead (like downloading new music for future runs). Also, I notice the cabs that mysteriously congregate on the side of Sacred Heart and realize that I could flag one down and get a ride home.
A ride home or a hit-and-run waiting to happen?
Somehow I find the mental strength to soldier on and I step out into the street. This is where the second problem comes in … those cabs. They sit there idling, the drivers chatting loudly on cell phones and paying no heed to their surroundings. Sometimes, like an assassin who has been waiting for just right moment, a cabbie will suddenly gun it and come hurtling toward me at top speed.
After dodging the cabs and surviving the speeders on Napoleon, I enter a block populated by very untrusting canines. The first one is a mystery to me. From his frantic, high-pitched bark, I believe it to be small, but I can’t say for sure. He lives on a patio behind a condo and is hidden behind a tall fence that he bangs up against in his fury to get at me.
I'm not sure how long this fence will hold.
A new song begins on the iPod and it gives me the inspiration I need to get through this zone: “Danke Schoen” by a young Wayne Newton.” Sure, it’s odd choice for a run. You certainly won’t find it on any of those Nike workout playlists available in the iTunes store, but it works for me. It’s upbeat and “happy” and I never fail to chuckle at how Young Wayne sounds like a 14-year-old girl. It also makes me think of the time I actually went to a Wayne Newton show and he fell into the front row while trying to accept hugs and flowers from elderly fans. Danke Schoen indeed, Wayne. Danke Schoen.
Next, I pass in front of a house with a fenced front yard occupied by two lazy, large dogs and one energetic little Benji. Benji hates me with a passion and he tries to rouse the others from their porch naps in order to form a posse. Occasionally one of them will get up and stumble down the steps looking befuddled, but only Benji makes it to the fence to unleash barking hell.
Oh Heavenly Attack Dogs
After Benji and his gang, I come upon Sacred Heart - More Impressive Campus. Here, much work is underway and I’m forced to run in the street. I might have run right into large holes in the sidewalk if not for these helpful signs …
If not for this sign, I'd plunge right into that muddy pit.
Next up, I enter the Twilight Zone. That’s what I call the part of my route through the neighborhood, from roughly the block past Sacred Heart to the interesection of St. Charles and Jefferson. Things I have seen on this part of my route during the past year or so: A family on horseback, a speeding horse and buggy, a man in a top hat with a cane, someone in an Easter Bunny costume. The most terrifying encounter? The cast of The Real World: New Orleans.
Speaking of the Real World, the next major landmark on my run is The Real World: New Orleans house, which sits on an otherwise peaceful, pleasant block. Appropriately, the next song to pop up on the iPod is “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed.
Once The Real World house, now a home for wayward yard signs.
On several occassions last winter and spring, I ran past the Real World House and had no idea what was going on. Every evening it was lit up like a Vegas casino and there was always a group of young people loitering around outside. I assumed they were simply kids throwing parties while their wealthy parents were out of town. Little did I know that, on several occassions, I was likely running right past the perhaps-crazy-enough-to-be-homicidal Ryan. I could have been maimed, killed or, worse, vomited on.
If you didn’t experience the horror of The Real World New Orleans for yourself and don’t fully understand how close I was to danger, just watch this and fear for society: Real World: New Orleans | Ep. 2 | Knight Fights, Love Bites
Now, each time I pass this area, my pace quickens and I’m inspired to make it home to safety as fast as I can. In fact, this is the point where things get a little blurry…
Blazing speed: what scenery looks like when I turn on the burners...
In fact, the only time I pause on my way home is to put my hand over my heart and say a quick Pledge of Allegiance at this house…
Diary of a Wimpy Run, Part 1
Posted by Rob in Fitness, Humor, New Orleans, Pictures on September 14, 2010
As a relatively new blogger, I feel it’s important that I open up and let you, my non-existent readers, know exactly what makes me tick. I believe that one way to go about this is to bring you along with me on my biannual run. I will recount for you where I go, what I think about and how I survive on one of these sweat-soaked excursions.
I will begin with the hard part: The beginning. This is where the voice on my new Nike iPhone app taunts me with the distance I have to travel and I briefly consider bringing the trash can inside instead. Ultimately, I decide that I should go ahead with the run (the trash can wait on the curb the remainder of the week).
I turn the first corner and encounter the first dog that barks at me. He’s hidden behind the white fencing next to the metal garage and garbage cans in the rear of the vaguely creepy older house – the kind of house common Uptown. I’m sure you’re familiar with the type: too big for the small family inside, badly in need of a paint job (or two or three paint jobs), and undergoing seemingly never-ending repairs.
Soon I encounter the first of many low-hanging tree limbs I will have to dodge along my journey. The summer is always a pain, because the leaves (and often, rain) weigh down the branches along the route, forcing me to “limbo lower now.” Fall and winter offer only marginal improvement, as the limbs are higher without the weight of leaves, but they become like bony fingers trying to gouge my eyes out.
First song on the iPod – “You Could Be Mine” by Guns & Roses. I only recently added this to my list. Haven’t listened to GNR in years. This one always makes me think of Terminator 2 and helps me push any memory I have of “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines” and “Terminator 4: Christian Bale’s Tirade” out of my head. Only drawback: I can’t resist singing out loud in my worst Axl voice, sending people running from their porches and squirrels scurrying into the trees.
I come to a busy corner and am momentarily confused by this sign…
I know I've seen this red shape somewhere before...
After deciding what to do, I move on and consider other challenges. Beyond low-hanging limbs, my second major concern is the sidewalks – I don’t always run on them, but when I do, I’m risking everything. You might call it ‘urban trail running.’ Lots of ups and downs, with tree roots, cracks, vines, trash cans and sleeping cats to dodge. One of the houses I pass early in the route has a supply of orange cones, homemade signs and other materials out front. I believe they use them as a desperate, last-ditch method of communicating repair needs to the Department of Public Works. Or maybe just to warn fools like me.
After a few blocks of peaceful, neighborhood scenery comes the “I’ve Got My Eye On You, Pervert” Zone. Passing between Sacred Heart’s Mater Campus for younger girls and the Junior League building, I always see an off-duty cop strolling the sidewalk or sitting in a patrol car. Typically he stares at me and never, ever does he say ‘hello’. He maintains this “pissed off” bouncer façade as I make my way down the block. Oddly, he seems to have no problem smiling and chatting it up with attractive Junior Leaguers coming or going.
I keep my Axl voice silent during this stretch.
The Fortress of Junior League-itude
Next up on the iPod: Oingo Boingo’s “Weird Science,” another new addition. Makes me thing of Bill Paxton as Chet (“How bout a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?”).
As I wait for traffic to pass so I can cross Napoleon, I begin to daydream. I decide that, should I become famous, I wouldn’t want to be a flash in the pan. I’d want to be someone with enduring fame, like Peter Facinelli. I would also want to be the kind of dynamic screen or stage presence that commands attention. A real scenery chewer, like Freddie Prinze, Jr. Finally, I think, I’d also want to be known for being choosy and for my track record of high-quality projects, like Matthew Perry.
To be continued tomorrow in “Diary of a Wimpy Run 2: Real World Boogaloo.”
This is a test of the Emergency Foodiot Broadcast System. This is only a test.
Posted by Rob in Advertising, New Orleans, TV on August 16, 2010
In honor of the return of the sexy and insatiable Tropical Depression 5 (or “TD5” as it’s called by meteorologists and Skynet, its creator) I’m debuting the Emergency Foodiot Broadcast System. In the event of a storm approaching in the Gulf, I’m going to post this Orleans Shoring commercial as a way of warning my readers.
“Honey! There’s a storm in the Gulf!” A fantastic line reading that, I believe, serves as a much more effective warning than the loud squeeling sound you get from broadcast television and radio.*
* In the narrative of the commercial, this line is apparently code for “I’m bringing you some refreshing iced tea so we can relax and smugly laugh off any storm chance!”
Swampcajunjazzbalayapelicangumbo Mart
Posted by Rob in Humor, New Orleans on August 4, 2010
Sprinkle liberally with hot sauce displays.
Simple recipe for cooking up New Orleans tourist trap shop names: Throw together a few unrelated “Louisiana” words, add liquor.
Everything Old is Pretty Damn Good Again
Posted by Rob in Food, New Orleans on July 17, 2010
On Thursday night my wife and I met friends for a late dinner at Upperline. There was a time when we made regular trips to Upperline because it was the site of one of our first dates (and, of course, because we enjoyed it), but we hadn’t been in quite some time. While we never ceased to appreciate the cozy, Uptown classic and we always took pleasure in the friendly table visits from quirky owner JoAnn Clevenger, something changed. The magic seemed to have faded a bit. To us at least, the food seemed somehow less inspired than it was when we first began dining there.
Nevertheless, when we heard the news that Chef Ken Smith would be leaving the restaurant to become a priest, we knew we had to head back for at least one more of his meals. And, damn, am I glad we did. I have no inside knowledge whatsover about the behind-the-scenes happenings at Upperline, but I can tell you that something was … different. That Upperline vibe was back. The place was packed, the crowd was happy and loud, and Chef Smith himself was making his way from table to table, warmly greeting the guests. Most importantly, however, the food – each and every course - was fantastic.
For the record, I had (for the first time) the “Taste of New Orleans” sampler menu and it was an awe-inspiring feast. The roast duck and the duck etoufee (two additional firsts for me) were outstanding. Hell, stop reading my drivel and check it out for yourself on Upperline’s new Web site, then make your reservations.
Now, as for why the atmosphere and food seemed so much more “alive” to me last Thursday than it had several months ago, I have no answer. It could be nothing more than the skewed view of one goofball blogger, but I’d like to think that Chef Smith’s happiness with his new direction is being reflected in his cooking. Sure, it’s overly romantic and perhaps silly speculation, but, in an article by the Times-Picayune’s Brett Anderson, the Chef himself said that his faith is an inspiration in his daily work. In fact, in that same story, Anderson sums up Smith’s cooking far more eloquently than I ever could (he is, after all, a professional and I am in no way, shape or form a food writer), so I will close this post with his words:
“Anyone who has tried Smith’s food at the Upperline — the dark, dense gumbo, the nostril-flaring Gulf shrimp piquant, the duck-andouille etouffee that is filling in more ways than one — should not be surprised to discover there is a spiritual component to his cooking.”
Read the full Times-Picayune story about Smith’s career change here.
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