Flashback: August 7, 2004, 1:00AM

John just sent me this picture taken way back when during one of his summer parties at his old place on Robert Street. What a crazy time that was! Everyone here was still in school at TSA at the time of the photo. I love how several things are happening at once in this picture, and that I'm the only one aware that a photo is being taken (and maybe Al, who is mostly out of the shot). Of course, we are all in various states of inebriation; the natural state of being during the summer in New Orleans.

Something cool in New Orleans

Of course, after I move away, cool contemporary architecture stuff starts to happen in New Orleans. If you happen to be there this week, and like architecture stuff, you should check out this city-wide installation.

Inappropriate non-stop hotness

Amid all the coverage of Blackwater's shenanigans, this picture naturally caught my eye. I mean, I know it is totally inappropriate to be checking out a hot guy, when we're talking about major scandals, and fuck-ups involving loss of life, etc., etc., but c'mon, you know this guy is hot. I have had some personal experience with Blackwater, as after Hurricane Katrina, they were EVERYWHERE guarding shit and keeping us all on lockdown. Needless to say, they have some foin personnel. Made for some great eyecandy for the boys when they'd roll past St. Anne on their humvees. Ah, to be in New Orleans in the fall of '05: it was like the wild west of non-stop military, and civilian militia hotness.

Okay, so I realize that I've been in SF over two weeks now with nary a posting covering what's been going on and what sort of trouble I've been getting myself into. The main piece of news is that the job I thought I had when I got here turned out to be a bust-at least for the short-term. My potential employer did suggest that things may work out in the next couple of weeks. We'll see. In the meantime, I'm scrambling to put together a short list of super-sexy design firms that would like to hire a really smart, really competent designer who would contribute considerably in various and unexpected ways to the quality of design output, and thus the bottom line. So for the next few weeks it's interviews, interviews, interviews.

Of course, with the Folsom Street Fair and Love Parade coming up this weekend, and the Castro Street Fair next weekend (and the tons of parties, bars and shit to do in this town on any given day/night), there'll be plenty of distraction and excitement. I just hope the money don't runned out before I get my firs' direc deposic.

So long Big Easy

Okay, so I made the move. After a four-day journey through the American Southwest, I've finally arrived in my new hometown. I got into SF last night around 11:30, only to realize that I had no idea how to get to Dominic's place in the Haight. After a few abortive attempts, I ended up near the Castro, and was able to navigate over a few hills and find the right neighborhood.

I ended up parking over night on Haight Street, and got up early this morning to move my car-the first in probably many times I will have to do this until I find an apartment that has parking. Today I am going to be running around, sorting out various moving requirements, but hopefully later on I'll post pictures from my trip, as well as some of the things I encounter over the next few days I adjust to my new surroundings.

The last day of summer...

Just a few pics taken on Sunday and Sunday night. Despite not having pics to show it, I think you can imagine the progression of the evening's festivities.

First Friday at Jazzfest 2007 (April 27, 2007)

Another one bites the dust...

Once again, we here in the NO are finding ourselves celebrating the departure of yet another good friend. In this case, Tony (the one on the left) is leaving for DC in a matter of days. His departure is one in a long line. But what is New Orleans' loss is DC's gain. He's going to be managing what is soon to be the hottest FCUK store in the nation. Watch out all you retail bitches. This one's coming up. Don't be afraid to say, "Hey!" as he's a very friendly guy, and arriving in the DC area completely single. With lottsa love we wish him all the best from the Dirty, Dirty.

This one is Tony before the move. As you can see, we all down here are desperate for cash, and will do almost anything for a quick buck, including selling hemp jewelry to indigent hippies. Fortunately, he's already sorted out for a success in Our Nation's Capital.

Couched

This is what Eric looked like after a few of us got together last night for my big birthday dinner at Cochon. The food was amazing: straight-up Cajun, but high-end. You fuckers in NYC have no idea. The grits with crawfish special small plate was so good we got a second order. Of course a couple bottles of champagne were called for to wash it all down. I wish a lot more of you out-of-town folks coulda been there.

Quiznos Clusterf**k

Alright, I don't have a lot of time to get into it since I am at work, but I have to get this out. Katie and I walked over to the Quizno's located at 339 Baronne Street (store #10805) to get something to eat, and escape the office for an hour or so. Prior to walking over, there was a general discussion around the office about how slow the service is at this particular location. This was the fourth time I've gone to eat there, and this time was no different than the three previous in terms of the unnecessarily long lines, and piss-poor attitudes among the employees. I realize this is the South, and therefore I should expect a certain degree of, how to put this gently, "laid-back, casual" attitude in terms of service, but this place far surpasses the traditional, take-your-time approach.

Everytime I attempt to order a side garden salad with my sandwich, I get blank stares and confusion. Clearly, I'm going to combo that, so of course I want a drink. The flow is just fucked up at Quizno's. Compare McDonald's, the vanguard of all things fast food. Ordering is simplified and predictable. At Quizno's though, the sandwich makers do not seem to know the right prompts to get things moving along, and I am never sure who to tell what. As such, it takes a long time to convey what I want without sounding like a demanding asshole. And it takes an even longer time for them to actual prepare it. (Mind you, I order nothing customized, just standard menu items.) I think the double workstations is one confusing element, pre- and post- oven. But at this particular location, the real hold up is the cashier, who is the same everyday, and who feels it necessary to carry on personal phone calls all the while ringing people up, or at least attempting to.

Mardi Gras 2007

I've been trying to upload pictures from the past two nights of partying, but Blogger is being difficult and I can only do one at a time. So, here's one that I think captures basically what I have been doing since Friday afternoon. I am headed over to Eric's place now to get started for Bacchus.

A new job

Oh yeah, I have a new job now. I'm working for a firm in the CBD (Central Business District), right down the street from the Superdome. Non sequitor: I can't stand a fucking office know-it-all! And we have one here. I am not absolutely certain why some people feel the need to weigh in on subjects over which they have no mastery, but I surmise that it has to do with their secret self-knowledge that they are utterly uninteresting and stupid, thus they are insecure jackasses. I usually have trouble dealing with this personality type because the information they are spouting off is almost always incorrect, and I can't stand misinformation. Not to suggest that I am a know-it-all, but what I DO know (which does tend to be more than most, and you know it) I am confident of. What usually happens is I end up constantly correcting the know-it-all's facts as they are spewed, and it seemingly becomes this absurd competition. This time round, however, I have decided to just not get involved, unless of course an innocent could potentially injure himself/herself because of some misinformation. I think that is the noble thing to do, right? I mean, it's not my problem if you're so ignorant you go around listening to other stupid people and simply accept what they say without checking their facts. Dumbass!

I can't wait to see what other obnoxious personality types will reveal themselves in the coming weeks. This is why I preferred working for a firm with only four employees. God, my SF trip can't come soon enough! 4 more days....

What a way to start the week!

On Monday, I was returning to work from lunch--now located in the CBD, as I have changed jobs--and I was passing in front of Le Pavillon Hotel on Poydras Street, a few blocks from my building. As I reached the corner, I noticed some scaffolding, and looked up to see the work they were doing. As I did so, a rain of white paint began to fall all around me, ruining everything I was wearing, including my vintage reversible black ADIDAS jacket that I found at Buffalo Exchange right after the storm! Even though I realized this event has seriously fucked up my day, I wasn't really all that upset. I casually walked into the hotel and requested to see a manager. The woman behind the front desk immediately rushed off to find someone in charge. As I was waiting some jackass tourist, just checking in, asked me if I was a painter, or if there had been an accident. THAT pissed me off, as if it wasn't fucking obvious what had occurred. My response was kind of abrasive, and he immediately apologized, as if he had been the one to spill the paint. I kind of felt bad for snapping, but only for a second. I just hate having to point out the obvious. Anyway, the hotel manager appeared around that time, along with the head contractor doing the painting. This guy was clearly nervous, but he took charge and said he would handle it. We went to his truck and he asked me what he could do to make it right. I told him that $200 would sort it out(drycleaning and/or new clothes, lost wages, and just general pain in the ass damages). At first he balked, telling me he only had a $100 bill and mumbling about might having a check. He eventually located one, as I composedly explained to him the shitstorm I could rain down if I were to do what I should do. That is, make a complaint to the City, who would send out an inspector and issue a stop work order, causing him to breach his contract with the hotel, thus generating a few lawsuits, etc. He quickly changed his mind and wrote out the check.

Once I had the check in hand, I walked a block to my bank and deposited the monies into my account (it eventually cleared). Then the hassles really began: explaining what happened to my coworkers (while covered still in paint), lining my car with garbage bags to avoid paint transference, getting home, stripping down and then going to the laundromat to see what could be salvaged.... The jacket was ruined which was the most disappointing thing, but hey, I think I negotiated a pretty good deal given the situation.

Mmmm, Rob

If I were a certain type of guy, a guy who self-identified as a member of a particular group, referred to internally as bears, cubs, wolves, otters and other furry animal types, I'd say, "Woof!" or use some such turn of phrase. I am not, however, since, as my friends well know, I am the type of guy who, on most days, and when the thought occurs to me, becomes extremely uncomfortable at any kind of self-identification. While I'm neither overly idiosyncratic, nor some sort of iconoclast, I do entertain an extreme misanthropy that strongly encourages me to remove myself from groupish situations, and performing groupish behavior (i.e. do whatever the fuck everyone else is doing).

But this is all neither here nor there.

Rob is a total hottie who I first met way back at the beginning of summer ('06) one night out on Bourbon Street. He lives in Colorado now, but he grew up on the "Best Bank." (So, if you know what THAT means, then you KNOW what that means). He came back to New Orleans over the holidays, and we got drunk again on Bourbon Street. I'm looking forward to the next time we get to hang out.

We were partying with his brother at Bourbon Street Blues Company, listening to a shitty cover band that played lots of obscure 80s metal (loving it!) Shot girls kept coming over to our group (little did they know!) and even though Rob (hot!) and I (drunk!) were not "interested," these pushy broads were impossible to refuse (I love strong women (i.e. total bitches!)!) Of course, the shots were crap, and were way overpriced, but it WAS priceless to see the big guy get manhandled by this little chick wearing hotpants and a tube top (okay her tits WERE really, really big). I got so drunk I couldn't remember why the hell we were hanging out on the wrong side of the lavender line (i.e. St. Anne Street)....

Signs of progress on St. Charles Avenue

From the Times-Picayune:

"The first step in the long road to restoration for the St. Charles Avenue streetcar line is set to take place today, as transit officials bring back daily service between Canal Street and Lee Circle for the first time since Hurricane Katrina.

Scheduled for 10:30 a.m., the ceremonial trip around Robert E. Lee's statue marks the completion of the initial phase of a three-part reformation project expected to last at least another 15 months.

Under plans still being developed, the Regional Transit Authority hopes to reopen a second leg of the historic St. Charles line, between Lee Circle and Napoleon Avenue, by next summer. The final segment, which will restore service from Napoleon to the terminus on Carrollton Avenue, likely won't be finished until spring or early summer of 2008, officials said."

More

Truck accident

My co-worker, Katie, and I came across this around 12:30PM at the intersection of Magazine Street and Jefferson Avenue. We were on our way to Roly Poly for lunch.

Apparently, this truck was trying to turn onto Magazine Street from Jefferson, and the driver wrapped the trailer around an electrical pole and broke it in half! How fucked is that?