Definition: Smarmy

The temple is closed for maintenance, so Yancy let his beard go wild.

I didn't get a good picture of it at its longest because I did not anticipate the Jekyll-and-Hyde-esque stages of transformation he would go through before the beard was fully shaved.


Stage One:



Stage Two: Comrade Zimmerman



Stage Three: "Nascar tonight?!?"



Stage Four: Pepé Le Pew

Book bag, literally

I heard about these book bags this morning on NPR.

Aren't they cool?

"The Magic Garden"



"War and Peace"


A calculus textbook :)



Sorry Marie, no OED purses.

Dear Heather Wilson

Dear Heather,

The anticipation with which I await your next post has driven me to the extreme of posting a request on my blog, which I'm not even sure you know exists.

You said recently that you have felt uninspired, but perhaps you had a premonition this morning as you brushed your teeth with your Sponge Bob shower curtain in the background that something good was coming.

Well, I offer new inspiration: Johnny Depp as a guest star on tonight's Sponge Bob.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103170924

We have great expections.

Regards,
Leah

I almost died on Bourbon Street*

I regret that in New Orleans, a place with much to offer tourists, my only sightseeing was on Bourbon Street.

Don't go to Bourbon Street. You cannot avoid the filth. It is magnified on posters, blaring through loud speakers and being hollered at you in the street. Anyway, here's my Bourbon Street story:

The evening started with an electrical transformer explosion that forced us to make different dinner plans after the cabi had left us stranded on Bourbon street. My coworkers were super excited for crayfish and jambalaya.

We waited for our meal for more than an hour, only to be told, "We're out of the jambalaya, and if you're dissatisfied with that, well, there's not much I can do about it."

Excuse me? We never got our dinner salads, half of the entrees are missing, we've waited an hour, it's starting to rain on us and there's not much you can do about it?

We left in a huff and flagged cab. This is us happy to be headed home.



Our driver had some sort of horrendous sinus condition and he kept making a noise kind of like a pulling a stiff zipper, but thick and juicy.

Every time he'd make this noise, my boss (with one glass of wine in her) would start giggling uncontrollably and say, "We have to get out of here!" in a perfectly audible "whisper." It was so embarrassing.

Like in New York, the cabbies creep along the streets trying to avoid tourists, and anytime the street clears, the cabby guns it. It's the only way to make any progress.

Our cabby was doing this when he gunned it into an intersection. This is what I remember:
-- Acceleration: Pushed back in my seat.
-- Coworker shrieks
-- Thought: We're going to hit someone
-- Observe: No one in front of us
-- Glance right: HOLY CRAP THERE IS A HUGE SUV COMING AT US **

The cabby couldn't decide to stop or go, so we lurched a few times as the SUV slammed on its breaks. Luckily, it stopped with its huge lights inches from the passenger windows. I felt like I was in Jurassic Park, with T-rex staring in the window.

This is us before the scare:



This is us after almost dying:



Just kidding. It's actually just a really ugly picture of us.



* This is a blatant exagerration to get your attention. I followed Cowboy's advice from "Newsies."
** Can you tell I just read "The Road"? Beautiful story. I started crying on the train at the end. I have no hope for the movie. ***
*** Marie, I hope you don't mind I'm ripping off your astrisk technique.

I confess: SpaghettiOs.

I love 'em. I hope Campbell's finds this post and send me coupons.

What's your guilty pleasure?

Why do I tense when people cry?

While working today, I started hearing sniffles and realized a lady sitting near me was crying.

I immediately felt tense, debating whether I should say something or mind my own business.

Finally, I went to look for Agatha, a grandmotherly lady who could cheer up the world with a hug, but I couldn't find her.

Somehow, being out of my chair, I wasn't so nervous about giving that hug myself. And you know what? It helped. A hug, a kiss on the cheek, and offer to pray for her.

I don't know what was wrong; doesn't matter. But I do wonder why I hesitated.

Leah the Butcher

This is what I did today:

There is no way of saying, "Good work; I have some suggestions," that eases the sting of that much red ink.

New Orleans is a weird place for a New Yorker

Exhibit A: People were nice to tourists

Do you see something missing from this elevator panel? No "close" button. I probably lost forty or fifty seconds -- possibly a whole minute -- of this trip not being able to tell the elevator, "Quick, don't let anyone else get on!"



The hotel staff was nice; random people in the elevator were nice; the cab drivers were nice.

Flash backs to BYU where everyone I passed was a dilemma: Should I smile? Nod? Say hello?


Exhibit B: Food and beverage museum

What do you buy in the gift shop, old food? I think this is just a clever way to lure people into your restaurant.




Side note:
At this event, we had an issue with students sneaking guys into their hotel rooms without asking their roommates. The day all this drama broke, I came back to my hotel room and discovered this:



My first thought: There's been a guy in my room!

But I think it was just the housekeeper.

I get spooked pretty easily when I'm staying alone. I sing a lot of "I Walk by Faith." In my hotel room, I put little post-it notes over the eyes of all the people in the paintings.


Exhibit C: The Art

Does this make you hungry?



This was the menu cover of the nicest restaurant we visited. Nothing says classy like a lobster pinching Cupid's toosh.

When this restaurant had lost our reservations, we ended up driving to four other places before we found a restaurant with less than an hour-and-a-half wait for a party of three.

At the Emeril restaurant, and I had this conversation with the hostess:

"What is your wait for a party of three?"

"Well, we don't take reservations and we don't have a wait list."

"So you could seat us now?"

"No, we're full until 10 p.m."

So how do you get seated? Do you have to be lucky enough to walk in right as a party of the same size walks out? Maybe you need a special invitation from Emeril.


Exhibit D: The food

I have never travelled anywhere so unhealthy.

Fresh fruit? No.

Fresh vegetables? Freshly smothered in butter.

Entrees? Fried. All of them.

Anything not fried? Yes, basted in lemon and butter. If a food isn't a New Orleans classic, it seems the only thing they know how to do with it is baste it in lemon butter.

Breakfast? French toast soaked in butter, not egg; grits, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs.

If my vegetable, egg-white omelet oozes a pool of butter, what's the point?



This is me eating a pork chop, red beans and rice. I would have killed for a salad, which is kind of ironic.