Friday, December 28, 2007

Everything I Need to Know About Life I Can Learn From Four Days in South Louisiana

1. Contrary to popular belief, six year old children are actually quite capable of deftly maneuvering gallon jugs of J&B and, because of that, make most excellent bartenders. What's even better is, they'll never cut you off. Louisianans really understand the value of giving a child a job.

2. If you happen to find yourself at the bleak outer reaches of New Orleans, say, somewhere at or near a Comfort Inn on the corner of Idaho Avenue and Veterans Memorial Boulevard in Kenner, never fear. You are in actuality only about five minutes and a $4.78 cab ride from a night of merriment, courtesy one fully operational Daiquiri Chef and, another block down the street, the venerable Harbor Seafood and Oyster Bar, where six bucks and a little bit of patience will earn you one dozen of the plumpest, juiciest mollusk critters known to man. So I ate about sixty bazillion.

3. Don't bother buying cookbooks. Make sufficient rounds to friends and family and eventually you'll score enough recipes to ensure the luggage handlers at the Southwest ticket counter a hernia all over again. Moi, I came back with a few good ones. Like my mother-in-law's swear-to-Gawd, 100 percent fool proof, money back guaranteed microwave praline recipe. I know, huh? Microwaved pralines? But I couldn't tell the difference. And since I loves me some pralines something fierce but have to be in just the right mood to make them by scratch (i.e., stone cold sober and paying military precision-like attention to what I'm doing) I will definitely be making up a batch of these in the near future and posting the results on da baking blob. Just as soon as I run these extra ten bazillion pounds off Moi's ass.

4. Speaking of which. You know how nobody walks in El Lay? Well, no body runs in South Louisiana. At least not on purpose. Even though they're situated at sea level, a condition guaranteed to shave at least 34.75 seconds off whatever per mile time marks your usual trudge and, if employed as a regular method of exercise, allow one (Moi) the ability to ingest an extra couple slices of pecan pie after each meal with hardly any caloric gain. But no. I guess these people figure they get all the cardiovascular benefit they need lifting the following: Beer bottles. Forks. Guns.

(Oh, and for anyone who's wondering: eight days later and da dawg still stinks.)


Meghan said...

Okay, #2 made my mouth water like a rabid lab.

And, I'd like to suggest THIS for da dawg. I've never tried it, but I saw it today and thought of you.

(Great to have you back, by the way.)

Aunty Belle said...

hee hee...I'll be waitin' on that recipe.

Never run when saunterin' will git ya there.

Karen said...

I make it a practice never to run anywhere. I just don't believe it can be good for you in any shape, size or form. All that sweating and huffing and puffing....good Lord if we were meant to run we'd be born wearing sneakers.

Glad to see Moi back and hope the dawgie smells sweeter soon.

Landis said...

great. just great.

NOW i'm hungry.

and i just had enchiladas, but they don't sound as good as mollusks, pralines, and pecan pie.


moi said...

Meghan: It's good to be back! Maybe PetSmart has something similar. The kennel couldn't get Ivan in the tub for their treatment, so I gotta do something today. The dog wafts . . .

Aunty: I have also learned not to mistake silence for a signal that a southerner has stopped speaking. If after a five second pause they haven't resumed their thought, then and only then do I know it's safe to start my own blabbing.

Gypsy: Actually, current scientific research has discovered that baby we were, in fact, born to run.
I know, I know. Sad, but true.

Landis: Ooo, enchiladas. Our Official State Meal. But I hear ya. I'm home only 24.567 hours and already I'm missing mollucks. Sniff.

Anonymous said...

My wise aunt, smart enough to marry a Heavily Connected Panamanian plantation owner and beautiful enough at the age of 70 to turn the heads of men 45 years younger, once said, "I'm never standing up when I could be sitting down, and I'm never sitting down when I could be laying down." This has little to do with your workout regimen per se, but I thought I'd throw it in there.

h said...

Seems to me EVERYTHING slows down in Louisianna. So, maybe, they are RUNNING if they're actually moving forward.

Micro-Pralines. Why the heck not if they taste good?

Do they still sell hard liquor at Gas N Go's?

Doris Rose said...

Welcome Home! Sounds like a great adventure and a sucessful food-fest. Sorry about poor Ivan, maybe a brisk dip in the pool??
Let me know when the pralines are done! I used to do peanut brittle in the microwave, quick and easy.

moi said...

czar: Your aunt sounds like my kind of gal. However, until I see hard scientific evidence confirming that if I spend the rest of my life on my ass I'll be able to score hot 25 year old dudes when I'm 70, then I'm taking my chances and running.

Artful: Huh. Dunno. We don't do hard liquor on the road. Just daquiries. But I'll phone a friend and ask.

Doris: You'll be first on the list! I'll call you. We'll tawk.

ThursdayNext said...

I have been to Nawlins and as much as I fell in love with it, I knew I couldnt live there because I would be an obese drunk day and night; oh god the food was the best in the world. Sixy bazillion eh? You rock. :)

Jenny said...

Welcome back! I'm proud of you for bringing your running shoes to the Big Easy. I'm the oddity when I travel "home" on weekends and go to a local gym; boxing shoes/jump rope are a bit odd in the yoga room. So is shadow boxing, but I think they've gotten used to me.

I'll be over the U.Baker to see if you've posted some recipes. said...

Oh, I LOVE oysters. And I LOVE the South. You lucky thing; you forgot to take me with you! :-) Did you at least bring me back some boiled peanuts?

moi said...

Thursday: Yes. Fat and happy. That would be Moi, too, were I a year round denizen.

AB: I would love to see you strut into a boxing gym in the south.

Stepherz: I know you miss your homeland lots. Nothing quite equates to oysters in these parts, does it? Not even the "Rocky Mountain" kind.

the Dread Pirate Rackham said...

welcome back, girl! microwave pralines? the hell you say!