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The State, a Date, an Escape

So where were we? I made an emergency trip to D.C. to talk to a General with the State Department about a job which was pretty cool, particularly the part about passing through four securities to see the inside of an executive office – an Assistant Cabinet member’s office at that! And who ever heard of a department with a 2 billion dollar a YEAR budget? But I don’t think the job is going to work out, the pay is surprisingly paltry and the job could mean going to dangerous places and leaving my relaxed Cali lifestyle. So let’s consider it neither here nor there for the time being.

(Special Note: I also had the pleasure of speaking to DF who was Stateside for vacation with her platinum-selling Israeli rock star boyfriend. Strangely, DF has shirked her summa cum laude anthropology degree and audio mixing skills for… medical school? I dunno. Nothing makes sense these days.)

Carrying on, I ran back to The Valley to pick up some camera gear and off this Hatchetface went to New Orleans for D2s wedding. A lavish affair. I gained six pounds in a week. How is that even possible? I think scarfing down gumbo, pancakes, muffalatas, a table full of candy, miniature grilled cheeses, veggie loaf, a day of the dead bag stuffed full of snacks, potatoes, breads, cookies, ice cream sundaes, cotton candy and beignets over the course of two days helped.

“What are you saying? My wedding’s like the Apocalypse?”

La Famiglia ran around the penthouse Ernest Hemingway suite at the Hotel Monteleone because, let’s face it, it’s all about upper-crust excess. Gremmy flashed me for like 2 hours and could’ve been wandering around the halls buck naked which is more likely than not likely, much to the amusement of the family. Pop Pop swam with a wet suit in the rooftop pool. Should I have been embarrassed? Nah, this is Truman Capote country.


At the wedding, DJ got Pops drunker than I’ve seen him in a while although everyone in the family, wedding party, wedding planner, waiters, caterers, second line band, jazz band, friends and crashers were positively bombed so yay, the cheese stands alone. Two purse snatchers were arrested at the affair. Someone stole an entire chocolate cake, 5 cases of wine, and at least $2,000 in cash. The wedding planner was a “positively useless” drunk and the wait staff were horrible and nasty. The disc spinner cursed out D2 and refused to play anything but booty-shaking club music… not a good idea in a room full of Fred Astaire lovers.

Cousin Janet spilled the beans about the secret evil twins that nobody ever talks about.

Someone decided Bourbon Street was a good idea and el L, after barfing up a Filet Mignon, got right on board. So off La Famiglia went to have an authentic experience. We found a nice blues club and el L took ample advantage of the $1 mixed drinks but aside from that, Bourbon Street was one of the most disgusting places I’ve ever been in my life. Perma beer and barf aromas steamed from the pavement and girls holding their hoohas through big holed mesh pranced outside of nudie bars. How in the hell do people survive Mardi Gras?


The next morning we ambled over to the Cafe Du Monde to continue the gluttony. I have a revelation that every culture has a basic delicacy consisting of fried dough and sugar. Could this be a major evolutionary staple? Are doughnuts indeed more friend than foe? The key to the survival of the species? I think an unequivocal YES.

Cheers to el L for the pictures used without permission.


One Response

  1. […] 22, 2008 by The Provost It could’ve been me, yes?  I’m even more satisfied that this didn’t come to fruition because I could be at the center of an international scandal right […]

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