Keebler Elves Fashion Show

Last night Elbow and I went to Harvest the Music, a weekly free concert in Lafayette Square Downtown. There was a band with horns and s#*t. Lots of young, up-and-comers drinking Abita in their khakis and Tory Burch ballet flats.

After I ate some cheese grits and pork, we walked down St. Charles Avenue to a new-ish hotel bar where there was a fashion show!!! Except we only saw one model the whole time. And he was dressed like this:

His outfit was red. (courtesy Gawker.com)

But there was a red carpet, a photographer and one of those lighting umbrella things. That picture above is actually from the 2008 debut of Kellogg's "Under The Hood" streetwear. It's my new obsession. Does anyone own any of these pieces? Apparently the line went bust. Wonder why?

Aah. I love it.

This is my favorite. Whaddup elves.

 After the five-minute fashion show, Elbow and I caught up with the lady who previously was seen wandering the CBD yelling, "Ralph!? Ralph?!" She was looking for her dog, a four-pound shih tzu. White. I of course was absolutely worried to death about Ralph and tried to help the lady find him, while Elbow tried to explain to me how a second frantic woman running the streets yelling "Ralph?!" would be of no help at all.

Thankfully, she walked past us and said someone had found Ralph and was holding him for ransom at Kinko's (Now FedEx Documents) down the street. 

Oh geez that's cute.

The Stars and Stripes

One great thing about the house where Elbow and I live is that it sets on sorta a main street in Uptown New Orleans. This is great for, say, sitting on the front porch and people watching, but not so great for activities such as walking around your house sans shirt or solo dance parties.

But one thing it's really great for: Irking Tiger fans! WVU plays LSU this weekend, which will be especially fun for us if WVU wins. On Fridays, some of the girls in my office sport yellow dresses and purple scarves. I'm gonna wear my WVU skort from Gabe's tomorrow.

You really have to be from the Mid-Atlantic region to know what "Gabe's" means. But my sister knows: disposable outfits!

It's fun to be a redneck in Uptown.

Proudly hailing

Can you spot the porch swing? Elbow installed one on Tuesday

They're everywhere!

I promised a story about a rocket scientist. I'm going to keep this short. A few weeks ago a disheveled guy in mandals with a  coffee stain on his t-shirt came in to the office to use our copier/fax machine. He is apparently related to someone here and, more importantly, a bona fide rocket scientist!

He was on his way to present a proposal to a big company who would fund his little start-up he dubbed "Five Guys and a Chicken."

"Wearing that?" I wanted to ask.

This guy was just talking away and I just kept asking him questions. He and his comrades are building a rocket ship to send to Outer Space. Remember that small news story a while back about the founder of Amazon's failure at rocket building? When I read that, I didn't come away with "Hmm ... it's too bad his rocket crashed." I was more like, "The founder of Amazon is building a rocket ship??" Here's that story: Billionaire Rocket Man

The guy (Chicken-Rocket Man) in our office is in a space race with the founder of Amazon. I don't like those odds.

So Chicken-Rocket Man tells me they are now working on a model called the Taurus 2.

I ask what happened to Taurus 1. He says "Ha ha. It blew up!" Giant grin.

Ha ha. I hope he wins.

Saints Fans are so stylish

I just love coming to work after a Thursday night football game. Everyone is always a little slow. Or still drunk. I have pictures of Saints fans. We went to three bars and drove around so I got a pretty good mix.

Ugh. I think I prefer jorts.

Looks like a Steelers game with the wrong names on the jerseys.

Uh, who dat?

This guy made this jacket!!!

"Wait. Get the back."

Girls!

 

 

And then, on our way to the third bar, we took Ms. A's car and I discovered one of life's little secrets that middle-aged men have known for years: Convertibles are so fun!

Rollin' with my homies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During our moonlit cruise through the Cultural District, we passed a guy dressed as Elvis who screamed "Take me with you!" Too cool for Elvis.

I tried to go home and watch the 4th quarter but our cable isn't working. Elbow has been out of town and I haven't told him yet. He might be a teensy bit upset when he gets home this evening and can't catch up on Breaking Bad or whatever.

Coming soon: My conversation with a real-live rocket scientist! Next on SamLivesInNola. Stay tuned.

Black and Yellow (Gold)

Officially the Saints are black and gold, right? And the Steelers are black and yellow? Or is that just a Wiz Khalifa song?

Whatever color the Saints are, their uniforms are in full regalia today all over the city. I'm sure the halls of the hospitals are packed with every version of Saints scrubs imaginable and everyone in the OR is wearing their little Saints bandana caps. Our graphic designer has on glittery gold shoes that sparkle to the tune of Elton John.

Tonight I am going to the Rusty Nail (somewhere in the Quarter?) to pretend to watch the game. Oooh, I might watch some of it, but almost nothing can keep my attention for three hours. Maybe if you could see the players' faces or just maybe if I understood more of the rules. I've tried. Really. But I prefer to fill my brain with useless celebrity triva instead. Whatev. Football is still a good reason to get together and drink beer! I'll take lots of pics of these Saints fans so everyone can see how they do it in "Who Dat" nation, as opposed to Steeler Nation.

I was in south Florida this weekend and got SUNBURNED. Here's a picture of me shooting pool water out of my nose. Ft. Lauderdale is sorta like the show Jersey Shore. So I'm sure this pool is full of Red Bull and pee.

We sneaked into the W rooftop pool

New Orleans is smokin'!

This city is so hot it is literally smoking. Actually it's a "marsh fire" that has been burning for a few days and has blanketed the city in smoke and a nice cigar-ish burning smell. Here's a news article, if you're interested, which I am not really: http://www.wwl.com/DEQ-issues-air-quality--precaution--over-smoke-fro/10772017

So last week Elbow and I went up North so I could get my Earthquake badge. It was awesome. We were in the airport and everything was shaking just like in the movies. I thought a plane had crashed into the building.

So when Elbow made fun of the people who started running frantically as the tremor started, I hated to tell him that I would have been one of those people had he not grabbed hold of my wrist. He knows me well enough to keep me anchored during something like this. My plan was to run down the next tarmac into the Southwest plane headed to Albuquerque.

Which brings me to my next big scare of the week. I don't really like flying. Unless I've had like four glasses of wine and then it's "exciting!" After the earthquake, BWI made everyone exit the airport, stop halfway, back up, move toward the doors, stop again, yell at each other, and then finally line up to get RE-SCREENED. Everyone in the entire airport had to go back through security. Which I'm sure took about eight hours. But I don't really know since we left and spent the day on the Harbor listening to passerby's "Where were you?" stories.

The next day we were back on the same flight, sans tremors. But Irene was moving in and creating strong winds so, after one of the bumpiest flights in recent memory, we were finally about to land. We were eye level with the trees. And just as the wheels were about to touch the ground, Whoooosh we took back off again!

I'm sure this was incredibly exciting to some of the preteen boys on the plane. But I pretty much passed out with fear. I figured the landing gear wouldn't come down and we were going to have to do a water landing in Lake Pontchartrain.

An oft-repeated phrase in public relations is "tell it first, tell it fast and tell it straight." Southwest modified this to "tell them nothing for a good 10 minutes." It's really scary when something like that happens and the pilots aren't on the mic jibberjabbering as usual, so they must be concentrating.

This story is getting long. Finally the pilot came on and said the tailwinds were over 100 mph and therefore too strong to land, so we had to turn around and come in from the other side. And Elbow was like "That's what I figured." Um hmm. I bet.

Anyhoo, we're back save and sound in the burning bayou.

Staycation!

Elbow hates when I write about him. At least I don't use his real name. And it is a very small audience. My readership varies from 0 to 10 viewers tops. Awesome!

This week Elbow is home on a staycation because he originally planned a trip to the Orient (no one says that anymore) but couldn't go because he decided to buy a house instead. So this week he has made no fewer than 17 trips to Lowe's. Fruits of labor include a grill, a pressure washer, a small trashcan that he modified with a kitchen knife to fit in the pull-out drawer, a workout "cage," and a second grill to replace the first one that was returned for being not-quite right.

He pressure washed the entire house over three days, and drove the stay-at-home neighbor ladies wild by running around shirtless. But enough about Elbow.

I'm not supposed to post pictures of the house up yet, so I'm attaching a photo of a house that may or may not be the one in which we are residing. Once we finally get all the boxes of textbooks (really!) unpacked, I'll post more photos.

A house that love built

For now I have to get back to work. I am currently proofing a document that includes the phrase "sphincter-saving procedures" several times.

Timing is Everything

Today I opened the door of Avenue Cafe directly into the head of a blond toddler. I was like, what is this hard object that is coming between me and a turkey BLT (TLT?)? Before I could give the door another good heave-ho, the kid started wailing and I immediately felt like a child abuser. I didn't know! Why was he taking a nap in front of the opaque wooden door?

I apologized profusely and the mother ignored me while she tended to her little darling. But it ended up being fine. Just bad timing.

Which brings me to my 6:30 a.m. discovery: A tree has fallen on our new house. I'm being dramatic. The branch is actually straddling the property line between our yard and the neighbor's. It took out a large chunk of their brick wall, which is now strewn over our grass.

This is a matter of good timing, though, because we don't move in until next week. The former owners are "leasing" from us (for free) until the 12th. So the jerks better get that mess cleaned up by next Wednesday or we're crackin' skulls and not inviting them to barbecue. Just kidding! (No I'm really not.)

And here's my final point about timing: it's TIME for me to get a stupid i-Phone. I need to take pictures of things like fallen trees and you can't do that with a $30 GO phone. FYI, the GO phone is awesome for traveling. You only have to charge it every fifth night. But it does not take pictures. And it doesn't pull up google maps or Facebook or angry birds or whatever it is everyone plays. Elbow gets these messages that pop up on his i-Pad that say something like "The dark tower on the ninth floor is ready for summer inventory" which is apparently related to a game that he play for six hours straight at work.

I am missing out!

Our own little piece of floodzone

Yesterday Elbow and I closed on a house. I know this is supposed to be a momentous occasion for us, so we skipped out of the building, chugged a bottle of champagne and hitched a ride on a horse buggy for a "romantic tour of the historic French Quarter" while tossing rose petals at the passerby.

Psych.

What we really did was go eat Mexican food with our realtor and her husband and compared memories of our economically depressed hometowns. Ha ha. We scoff at the people we grew up with who buy bigger houses than ours at 1/6 of the price, like you can in parts of West Virginia. They don't get to carry their open beers on the streets or ride the streetcar to the strip clubs like we can. Of course they don't have streets because they all live on back roads in the "holler" and have mailing addresses that start with "Rural Route . . ."

I'm only poking fun because I'm sorta homesick. Summer time is lovely in West Virginia and the surrounding area. I'm envious of all of my friends who are enjoying nighttime Pirates games and swimming at Mule's Hole or camping at High Falls of Cheat. That's the best.

It's great to camp in Louisiana, too. Mosquitos that draw blood and heatstroke are awesome. And you can only go October-March. The only people who sleep outside this time of year are the ones who passed out on Bourbon Street.

Once we move in, I'll post pics of the new house!

Van Gogh or Picasso?

My friend A. and I drove all the way to Metairie two nights ago to do these totally awesome paintings:

Sorry. Not for sale.

I did the boats.

Basically these people sit you down in front of a canvas with a faint sketch on it. They display a finished version of your painting, give you a paper plate with the colors they think you'll need and give you a skinny brush and a fat brush. Then you go to town.

Imagination Required

We sorta thought there might be more instruction. When I asked someone working there where she thought I should start, she said "the outside," then the next lady to come by said I should have started with the blue inside. Whatever. The original actually used brown and orange for the water but I liked blue and green better.

We got to drink wine while we painted and I only dipped my paintbrush into my wine cup once!

When I got home, Elbow said my painting was "okay" or something like that instead of encouraging my new hobby. It's pretty sad since I was planning on creating paintings for all my family members for their birthdays this year.

I don't see so good!

I broke my glasses. You have to see them. This is what living in New Orleans does to you and your possessions.

Seriously?

There is a benefit to bars closing at 2 a.m. It prevents the following from happening: sitting around with friends on the patio, having some cocktails, maybe some shots, getting some food from the pork truck parked outside (it's better than it sounds!). Then hitching a ride in a mustang (yep and the driver blares techno music) to another bar for some more patio chillin'. And then somebody saying "Holy crap. It's 4:30."

Like 4:30 a.m. Like normally I wake up in 1 1/2 hours from now. An incident like this can really ruin your next day. And your glasses. I guess I slept on them. And then Buddy! chewed them. But honestly, I really don't know what happened.

This is not a usual Friday evening for me. I would much rather go to happy hour, eat dinner and go to bed by 11. I like to be productive during the day. But when the lights never come on in the bar and the bartender never asks you to close your tab, bad things can happen. You've been warned.

In other news, here is another example of how bosses everywhere are trying to turn their office employees into chunk-sters:

I want a Nutty Buddy REALLY bad

Instead I ate plain crackers and snap peas. It tasted about as interesting as this blog post.

Gotta run. Tomorrow I'll show you my masterpiece I painted at the drink-wine-while-you-paint shop. Guess which painting I picked: Painting Gallery of Choices No it was not "Fan Nation."

We saw Vince Vaughn!!!

It's so cool to live in New Orleans. Well, actually it's really frickin' hot. But you get used to it once you remember to never wear synthetic fabrics.

My sister came to visit last weekend. And we passed Vince Vaughn on the street walking in front of Jackson Square in the French Quarter (the locals just say "the Quarter" or "that place we generally avoid").

I was trying to be all cool and just elbowed my sister until she looked up. Subtlety didn't work so I had to add, "Look at this guy." And then she finally noticed and excitement got the better of us and we both were all, "That's Vince Vaughn" at the same time and then we giggled. Because it's fun to see famous people. Also he totally checked us out over the top of his aviators as we passed. I'm sure we're not special in this regard, but I'm still gonna claim it!

The funny thing is he looks exactly like he does in his movies: Pic. Only chubbier. And his hair was sorta crazy.

After that, we felt so Hollywood that we went to the French Market and bought fedoras and big sunglasses, like the Olsen twins. Except we're smiling.

Mary-Kate and Ashley

Common New Orleans Injuries

On the flight back from Pittsburgh last weekend I sat next to a gentleman who owned a very profitable trucking business in Louisiana and surrounding states. He had so much money, in fact, that he got to sit back in Coach on an AirTran flight wedged next to me and the bathroom.

He told me about how he was in the hospital for a few weeks because he got hit in the head with a sack of Mardi Gras beads. (!) He said it in such a matter of fact way, too. Like normal people might trip on a step or slip on ice. Nope, not here. A concern for the elderly is the trajectory of large bags of plastic items thrown drunkenly through the air. He's fine now, though.

He then went on to talk about how his company has bought up entire streets in the Ninth Ward and New Orleans East, areas that were badly hit during the 2005 hurricanes. "We just go in there and clean up the titles and the squatters and then take over." I could have asked more questions about the "clean up" process (yikes) but I was trying to change the subject since the woman who was sitting on the other side of me worked for a nonprofit who rebuilds storm-damaged homes in the area. And she probably despises people who do what he does.

So a bead attack is one type of common injury in New Orleans. Another is a dog scuffle.

A dog scuffle is when you are walking your dog(s) on the bumpy sidewalks of residential Uptown and you meet another walker and her dog(s). "Hey how are you?" "Great, how are you?" "Isn't this weather spectacular?" "It's only gonna get hotter" yada yada. And your dogs sniff each others' behinds.

Then when you try to walk away ("Take care! Enjoy the weather!"), the other owner's standard poodle lunges for your Buddy! and comes tearing down the sidewalk toward you. The other owner falls flat on her face in her tennis skirt (this is Uptown) and leashes and keys and water bottles go flying. Oh, and dogs. Dogs are all over the place.

On this particular day there were three: Bud-man, the giant poodle and a tiny fur ball that I think was a shih tzu. So tennis-skirt lady is on her stomach clutching a leash that is no longer attached to the poodle (Cujo) and Buddy! is under Cujo and the shih tzu is just sorta bouncing around. And cars are whizzing by.

I call it a scuffle but it's more like a circus.

But it was fine. I had to grab two of the dogs and accidentally hit one (Cujo) in the head with my keys a few times. But eventually we got it under control. Poor lady's tennis skirt was probably ripped and I'm sure she had a nasty strawberry on her legs somewhere.

New Orleans, home of interesting things to worry about. Or not.

No we're not flooded

It hasn't exactly been smooth sailing since we got to New Orleans: first the BP oil spill and now the Mississippi River threatening to put the city under 25 feet of water. It didn't happen. They opened a spillway. But it's pretty incredible to go to the Fly (part of the park right next to the river) and actually be level with the water.

I'm not describing it correctly. It's like if you make a cake but your pan is too small so when you pour in the batter, the liquid comes right to the brim and sort of sloshes over a little bit. No? How about if you're in front of a keg and you fill your red cup, but you don't move fast enough and then you have to take a few sips off the top before you can walk back to the corn hole game?

The river is up! That's what I'm trying to say! But so far so good down here.

I promised some pictures. Here's the latest recruits for the Harlem Globetrotters.

Red shirted

We were in the Mountain State this past weekend for a very important celebration. And since I always sound sarcastic, I'm just not going to write anything else about it. Here's a pic.

We should all learn to enjoy life a little more and quit whining so much

Buddy! with full fur boots

Bud-man does not like his new haircut. 

Where have you been? It's been so long!

Two months and 8 days, but I'm not that great at counting so who knows?

Tomorrow I'll have some totally awesome pictures for you, including: The Harlem Globetrotters, Dorothy (s) and Toto, some weddings and a sliver of my new office desk. Woo-hoo.

Here is why I have not been writing. I used to roll my eyes when people told me how busy they were. They were too busy to check email or too busy to workout. But then I'd see them drunk on a Saturday afternoon at like 3 p.m. Maybe you could have fit in a little run around the block this afternoon, no? The excuse I hated the most was "I was studying for the Bar exam." So then you cut yourself off from the rest of the world and could not return a phone call or attend one meeting once in two weeks?

I'm a little rusty on the blog-writing thing. Stay with me. But now I understand. I am wrapping up the nine most busy weeks of my life and I finally understand what it feels like to have no time to check your email or facebook or twitter or write in your little Nola blog. We've traveled almost every weekend since March. I started working full time (Yay!) but have not made time to go out to celebrate (Boo!).  I took too many classes this term. I also am now chair of a fundraiser (I'm such a yuppie).

But these classes are almost over and we only have one more trip to take. And I'm happy to be alive and all that in the BEST city in the nation. So look out, I'm gonna be spamming up your facebook feed again! Samlivesinnola is back. Which reminds me, did you hear that Ah-nald and Maria Shriver are splitting up? I bet he starts dating Kim Kardashian next.

Parties and more sparkly shoes

Last night I tailgated for the parades with the gal who recently turned 30 and threw the most jealousy-inspiring birthday party I've ever been to. Somehow I may have implied that I don't think karaoke is cool. I just want to say I think karaoke is the king of cool. They should have a karaoke parade! And bring back the karaoke cab that was supposedly around here before the storm.

Sometimes I write dumb stuff. In fact, I pretty much always do.

But look at the awesome stuff I caught in the parades last night:

The bananas are "for scale"

Buddy! got his own Muses fish that he used as a pillow last night.
There are more parades tonight but we may only catch the tail-end, which is fine with me. It's exhausting to yell at masked strangers ten feet above you and get pelted with plastic things. Add in the whole bottle of wine I drank (thanks!) and I'm getting tired just thinking about another parade.

But we have costumes for Mardi Gras day and wait 'til yo see 'em! I'm not going to tell you what they are but here's a hint: they involve a sport and a catchy tune.

This is what it's all about

Beads and boobs. Just kidding!

But seriously there are parades out the wazoo now and WE GOT BEADS! And some cups. We decorated the porch:

Cute, but I totally copied this idea from everyone else

Sunday we walked in the Krewe of Barkus. Yes, Elbow and I were in a parade! Here is (me!) Dorothy and her little dog, too:

My hair ribbons are actually slivers of old scrubs

Since this is my first Mardi Gras as a non-tourist, here's what I've learned so far.

1. People really do construct those carts-on-top-of-ladders things and then set their children up there.
2. Dogs aren't allowed to watch the parades on the routes (unless a.) it's Barkus or b.) the cop who sees you just loves little dogs so he actually wants to stand with you and chat about them for ten minutes
3. Kids get all the good beads. If you want something, don't stand near any of the little greedy boogers.
4. Ditto with college chicks.
5. If you sign up to be in a parade then don't forget to bring something to throw (Elbow and I picked up discarded beads from the ground so we can re-throw them)

It's a short list above but we're just getting started. There's still Muses, Endymion and that one where they throw cabbages and then the one with pineapples or whatever.

I just have to say -- It's pretty fun-tastic to live in New Orleans!
Come visit!

Toto wants you to visit!

It's not a "calling" . . .but I love it

When I was 22 I read Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon. The professor character's wife is a copywriter in Downtown Pittsburgh. I remember thinking that sounded so glamorous! A copywriter. Wow.

Of course in the story the Mrs. hates her job because her whole life she was aspiring to be a "real" writer. And to anyone who graduated with an English degree a "real" writer means "novelist." It's a stereotype that all writers want to eventually publish a novel. And it's true. Many people look down on advertising and marketing and the media in general. But guess what?! If Apple didn't get so much publicity and hype every time they launched a product so that millions of geeks lined up to buy them, y'all would be paying three times as much for those overpriced miniature flat-screen "pads." In a way, advertising actually lower prices. Of course, the flip side is that it raises prices. Just look at GEICO.

Fortunately I graduated with a degree in journalism, so I'm happy doing the lowest of the low when it comes to "real" writing: blogging! And copywriting at an ad agency! How horrendous! It's like the equivalent of Talk Soup in the news world, but whatev! I love it.

Back to why "real" writers hate blogging. Stephen King wrote that when he taught writing classes at universities, he hated to assign personal essays. Why? Because the students enjoyed them so much. He hated the elated drivel that ensued.

Hmm . . . That is pretty much all that I do here at samlivesinnola. Whatev, Stephen King. Under The Dome s*#ked.

In other news, Buddy! is not housebroken.

In other news, we are are walking in the Barkus parade this Sunday! I am Dorothy and Buddy! is Toto. And Elbow is Dorothy, too! We got costumes. We'll have pics.

The Office 15?

So, um, let me be like, a 13-year-old girl right now and just say that I love love love my new job so far. It is so super fun! It fits everything I've been learning from school and from my past experience into one little box wrapped with an awesome bow!

But here's something I forgot about working in an office. The Mayor's office didn't really count because we barely ever even sat down when I worked with Ms. Toni. Speaking of the mayor, read his response to Newsweek naming New Orleans #1 Dying City: That Writer is Stupid.

Anyhoo, about working in an office. They want you to be fat. That is why the office manager keeps bringing in oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and why the graphic designer brought the cute little red velvet cupcakes her mom made last night. We all like to eat. But we all really like to eat when we are sitting at a desk trying to think "What am I going to write here? Maybe I'll try one of those brownies while I ponder it." Or "I really don't want to call that person back. I'll just eat another peanut butter ball instead."

It's chocolate city in this office this week thanks to Valentine's Day and I just ate my fifth dark chocolate truffle. This morning. We also have free sun chips in the back! Totally awesome! You can eat those while you wait for your documents to print!

In other news, I took the streetcar to work yesterday which nearly made me pass out with anxiety. I was so worried that I would be late and the car would not come or just stop working. Which happens more than you might think. Sometimes all it takes is some rain and they're like Sorry! Streetcar's shut down suckers!

The first one passed me as I was coming up the street toward St. Charles and I just could not get there in time. So I waited impatiently for 10 minutes trying not to panic for the next one. I was just about to hail a cab when the jolly trolley showed up. Only took 19 minutes to get to work! How's that for a commute on a rickety old shoebox on a track?

Buddy! update: Took him to Pup Play at Petco on Tuesday. He spent the whole time humping a weiner dog named Bebe. He's got fancy taste.

Ho hum. Another 70-degree sunny day in February

What's your weather like?

It's so bright in my office I have to wear my sunglasses at my desk. They keep calling me Jackie Onassis and saying I look like a drunk celebrity. Whatev. My eyes are really sun sensitive and it is sunny as s#@t in this town.

All of our house guest leave today. That's sad. Although I have to admit I'm a teensy bit glad that I do not have to do anything this evening. I can sit on the couch and read O Magazine. Yes, I love Oprah magazine. I've never seen the show, but I love the publication.

Buddy! vomited what looked like sea foam this morning. I'm trying not to panic. But he's not eating his food. Maybe it's because he ate the metal balls out of the bell we were using to house break him. Or because he ate the corner of the floor basket in the bathroom.

Okay, back to copy writing. It would really stink to get fired from my part-time gig. Today we are working on a hospital services direct mail piece. Which is funny, since I'm taking a direct marketing class right now. Basically direct mail is really expensive to send and really annoying to get. But for some reason, it gets a decent response rate. You know what gets the highest response rate? Telephone calls! Hard to believe, I know.

Happy Controversial Holiday!

I personally like Valentine's Day. (I also liked the movie, but nobody else I know did). I think Elbow knows that I might burn the house down if he didn't get me flowers, so we got that department covered.

Last night our friend told a story of a past girlfriend who said she hated Valentine's Day but then he was in deep s*&t when he didn't get her anything. Uh, duh. We know you hate it and we pretend that we hate it. And we kinda do. But we still want grand surprises and expensive flower bouquets and overpriced dinners. Mostly prix fixe tonight of course.

We have a few house guests, too. B and her daughter are in the guest room until tomorrow. Since they got here Thursday we've done several fabulous things like the WW II Museum, appetizers at Cochon, dinner at Dante's Kitchen (one of my favorites so far), cheering on people at the Mardi Gras marathon, the dog park (Buddy!'s favorite), Bacchanal wine fiesta, and a 30th birthday party that was hilarious and fun (karaoke! sushi boat!).Speaking of sushi boats, our friend A. is staying with us in the makeshift guestroom/man room while he interviews. We really want him to move here, so we made up his futon extra nice.

School is hard and a tad tedious. Work is awesome. The weather is totally awesome (67 and sunny right now!). Tonight we'll go out as a group and make up stories for the couples around us. But right now I have to finish a paper on direct marketing: three offers for the miracle product, WonderBar. I wonder how many times I will accidentally type the word "WonderBra" instead.

Dolly Parton is a sucker

I only work 8 to noon. Yesterday I had to stay late, until 1:45. But it's awesome. There was a sign on the door that said, "Welcome Sam." Never in my life have I thought to do that for a new employee or intern, but it really helps break the ice and calm your nerves when you walk in there for the first time.

So I've already volunteered to work on Sunday at the Rock 'n' Roll Mardi Gras Marathon this weekend. I have to run up to people after the race and ask, "Why are you running today? How did it feel?, etc." I'm going to be the next Erin Andrews! Minus that keyhole incident.

What else? We just returned from Texas where it was colder than Pittsburgh and it actually looked like Pittsburgh with all the drunks stumbling around chanting "Here We Go." Here we didn't quite.

We took Buddy! to Petco last night for Pup Play where puppies learn to socialize and pee all over each other. It was awesome because Buddy! took off out of the gates like a champ and then immediately got overwhelmed by the big dogs and barricaded himself in the corner of the makeshift fence for 15 minutes. Some girl's shar pei slobbered all over my hand. And a Swedish (maybe?) guy sat in the middle of the area and surprise! got peed on by a schnauzer. Finally Buddy! stopped being the playground wuss and made friends with a weiner dog named "Lucky." Indeed.

"Working Girl"

I got a job! A real live job! I'm so awesome!

Well, actually it's a paid internship. And it's part-time. But whatever. At least it's not an unpaid internship.

The hospital that didn't hire me offered me an unpaid spot which I thought was great and I would definitely take. But then, I met with the L Agency (not the real name) about doing some freelance work and she mentioned they offered PAID internships and the conversation took a different turn. For the better I must say.

Maybe you  are thinking "Why can't she just get a job? What is wrong with her that no one will hire her?" If only I had a piece of King Cake for every time I thought the same. I would have found that elusive plastic baby for sure by now. But here's the thing. Communications is a really tough field. In 2007, Communications (including Journalism) was the 8th most popular undergraduate degree. The field is saturated with Syracuse and Northwestern journalism grads who thought they'd work for The Times but surprise! Rupert Murdoch is going to ruin that paper. It's vowed to go paper-less by next year anyway.

The point is there are not enough jobs and there are too many people. I googled "hardest jobs to get" and whatdoyouknow "marketing" is not listed? Huh. The author had the nerve to compile a list of truly almost-impossible jobs to get, all hyperbole aside. Astronaut, forest fire inspector, model, president of the United States? Did that last one really need to be included? I'm pretty sure I had no delusions there. Here's the list if you're curious: 11 Hardest Jobs to Get

Next week we are off the Austin and Dallas for a few days. And then I start. I wonder how I'll do in an office environment again. I'll be like "I usually take a nap with my dog right about now. Is it okay if I turn on 'Real Housewives'?"

Football season is so long!

. . . When you're a Steelers fan!
I made the right choice to attend the league party. My fellow member's home was beautiful. You might imagine cathedral ceilings, windows you can walk through, marble counter tops, window treatments that my mother would kill for . . . and you'd be right! But better than the decor was the conversation.

Most of the new ladies to the New Orleans junior league are from somewhere in the south. But there are a few from D.C., another very popular Junior League city. The thing about the Junior League is there are a LOT of lawyers in it. So you can imagine that a female networking group in D.C. that favors lawyers might be popular in our nation's capital.

But last night there was even someone from Madison, Wisconsin which means I'm not the biggest yankee anymore! Blah blah blah I think clubs are cool. Blah blah blah the Steelers won. I'll stop going on and on about women's leagues.

We are going to Dallas for the game but we will most likely not attend the game since that would cost about $600. We are going to Austin, too. Between New Orleans and Austin I'm bound to run into Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds this year, right?

Here We Go

If you're from anywhere near Pittsburgh, I know what your plans are for the evening. They involve either putting on 15 layers of clothing and filling up coolers of beer and snausages or they involve yelling at a flat-screen tv or 20 and eating beer and snausages.

If you live in New Orleans and you're a member of the Junior League Transfers group, you are currently having your left foot and calf humped by a four-month-old terrier-poodle mix (oh wait, that's just me). Actually you have a dinner planned for 5:30 p.m. CT that has been on the calendar for two months. The timing would have been altered if the beloved Saints were playing today. But they are not. But the Stillers are! So the kick-off time for the party and for the game coincide perfectly.

Now I really love being a member of the Junior League. We help homeowners renovate houses, donate backpacks to school kids, and donate funds to shelters. We also have kick-ass social activities. Like tonight would have been if there weren't a kick-ass game to watch.

So I was torn. Attend the party at the mansion with all my new girlfriends and drink wine and try everyone's potluck dish, OR go the bar or to J & G's back yard  and drink beer and eat tortilla chips (snausages?) and bite my fingernails as Roethlisberger gets sacked again and again? I'm going halfsies. First half with the ladies. Second half with the fans or foes.

We saw some clip about Rex Ryan last night and how he's always telling his players to just "be yourself." Riiight, as long as "yourself" is faster, stronger, smarter and better than your Steelers counterpart. Well, Mark Sanchez is definitely cuter than Big Ben, so they've got that.

Which reminds me. Yesterday we were walking in the Quarter with Buddy!, who we discovered is scared of brass instruments. He actually backed himself up into an ornate lamppost, he was so terrified. But he got used to it. We ran into a miniature greyhound and his owner who called his dog "Rexy." Rexy is a rescue who apparently used to beat the crap out of other dogs, but is now "spoiled rotten." Buddy! got to be his first attempt at socializing, which we didn't realize at the time. The owner was so happy that Rexy did so well and apparently didn't rip off Buddy!'s ear or something.

Then I went to the fancy dog "barkery" and got Buddy! a treat shaped like a squirrel.

Go Steelers!

Back in NoLa

Just returned to my new home state from a ten-day jaunt through the Mid-Atlantic region. Highlights of the trip include watching West Virginia beat Georgetown (even though Pitt later KILLED Georgetown), checking out some hip places in Baltimore, seeing my best friend and her daughter (even though in was in IKEA). Actually let's stop here. My friend M wanted to go to IKEA for their sale.

Since I was in Baltimore and IKEA is in Baltimore, she decided to combine the two visits. So we walked around IKEA for two hours while her husband slept in the car and her daughter (not yet four) kept telling us to "hurry" because we had made the mistake of letting her see the children's play area upon arrival and she needed to get back to it STAT.

Since little A was so good in the store she got to pick a toy and she picked the most expensive gigantic stuffed dog and named it Lilly ($19.95). M says that every new doll is named Lilly. When I was little I named all of my dolls and imaginary friends Alexandria and Elizabeth and Olivia--anything I thought was "Victorian." By the by, I always found playing with imaginary friends extremely boring. Did anyone actually enjoy this?

Oh, we took the train to Baltimore from D.C., which was really fast and convenient. They don't inspect your luggage on those things, so terrorists probably like them.

After that we went to Gettysburg, which was cool. And cold. But we got the CD to play in your car and drove around the monuments and battlefields. Yes, Buddy! was with us and it was fun letting him run around but making sure he didn't desecrate any piece of history. At some point he pooed on his leash. I discovered that later in the hotel room and was like, "That's why I kept smelling it . . ."

The Pastoral and Historical combine for an appealing site in Gettysburg.

Cannonball!

One of the biggest monuments--looks out over Cemetery Hill and uh, something else important

The above monument commemorates the lives lost from the state of Virginia, which was technically NOT my home state as of 10 or so days before. The Battle of Gettysburg took place July 1-3, 1863. Governor Arthur I. Boreman gave the first Inaugural address to the residents of West Virginia on June 20, 1863. Thank you Internet article: W.Va. Birth Date

After this we had a brief stop in MoTown to see our Captain America J. who everyone is praying for and who should be back in top form soon enough. And then . . . Follansbee!!!

This was actually one of my favorite parts of the trip because we didn't have anything to do or anywhere to be. But it snowed the whole time and we were restricted to twice daily walks around the neighborhood to keep from going all "Shining" on each other. Buddy! loves the snow, even though it makes him shiver:

BudDog likes to make yellow slushies

It was then on to Pittsburgh where we stayed at Tomo's because he's an awesome friend and we went out to BRGR, a new hip joint in East Liberty. And the whole town was jumping for joy because the Steelers won and the Patriots lost and yay! more football games to watch!!!

Somewhere in there West Virginia won another basketball game. I like to see if Huggins is wearing his wedding ring during the games. Because sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn't. I mean, that's supposed to be optional, right? Or maybe some days it just doesn't fit on his finger.

We saw lots of friends and ate good food and it was fun. But, I am so happy to be back in 50+ weather and in my own bed. Buddy! is in his crate and not hiding under someone's bed waiting for me to walk by so he can bite the crap out of my ankle. Or pee on someone's floor. (Sorry friends who let us stay!)

Where did that little black marker go?

Why do they make dog stuff so complicated? I bought Buddy! this cool bake name tag and I screwed it up, of course. Not too surprising since I tend to do many things the wrong way. Some past doosies include painting an entire bathroom dark blue with no paint tape around the word work. Covering the areas you don't want smeared with blue paint--what a great idea! I also broke off my side mirror on my car not once, twice, but four times. I ran into a bank teller wall, a mailbox, a parked truck's mirror and the back of a moving truck. My point is that I sometimes, not always mind you, do stupid stuff.

Today I wrote on Buddy!'s name tag with a "MediChoice Skin Marking Pen" that I thought was the marker that came with the tag. I mean they are both little markers. So, here's how the name tag turned out:

Can you read this?

I mean, this is actually Elbow's fault. Where did this skin marking pen come from? I certainly didn't bring it home from my work, since I don't have a job! I am starting another internship, though. Get this. It's at the hospital where they didn't hire me back in August. And guess who I'll be working under? The woman they did hire! Have I mentioned that I tend to do things the wrong way?

Exhibit A:

Looks just like the marker that came in the name tag package.

In other news, check out these awesome shoes we bought Buddy! He's like Mike Tyson in these mini boxing gloves. I'll try to get a picture. Elbow also insisted we buy him a camouflage hooded jacket. Yes, hooded. 

I will definitely get a picture of that.

A knockout

Here's some other cute pictures of Buddy! 

Wanted!

He likes to scatter around random objects. That's his little sweater. 

Cute puppy = attention and free stuff

For Christmas, I got a little dog who looks like Toto from The Wizard of Oz. His name is Buddy! and he likes to chew socks and do number 2 in his cage. Here he is dressed up for the holdiays:

Buddy! loves antlers

This picture was taken when Buddy! was still shy and a little bit nervous around us. Nowadays he rips around like a furry tornado, tipping kitchen stools and dragging pieces of firewood until he literally passes from exhaustion on a lap. Currently he is trying to dig his way to the bottom of our couch and making noises like the girl from The Exorcist.

But he does get us free stuff. A woman bought me coffee the other day because I was outside with Buddy and couldn't go in to get it. A groomer gave him a free brush.

Buddy! is the reason I have not blogged in two weeks or finished the second novel in the Wicked series (so good). We love him. The drawback is that I actually have to brush my hair and look decent before I go walking in the park because this dog is a people magnet. People love to talk to him and about him and I can barely get around the oval without someone coming to tell me about how much they want a Yorkie Poo of their own. He knows how to play fetch:

Bend it like Beckham