reprobate

So, I'm getting ready to go out of town with my youthful charge and I realize that in order to fold up the stroller I must first remove the beer bottles, both empty and full, from the bottom.

That doesn't make me a bad parent, does it?

Do you think if I insisted that everyone call me Honeyboy it would stick? I haven't had a good nickname in awhile and you slack bastards aren't exactly rising to the task of bestowing one.

Nah, probably not.

I'll settle for Soda Pop, though.

If I ever start an experimental music combo, I'm going to name it "Screamin' Jay Hawkins Shits his Pants."

I'm not sure if its this "new" New Orleans, or the old one, but I can't help be quite amused that the local WB affiliate shot a whole series of "I love New Orleans" PSAs:


A) Quite obviously not in New Orleans, but outside the mall in Jefferson.
B) Featuring (in multiple spots) a young lady with a hickey the size of my fist on...
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Chinese fire drill!

The tragedy of the internet is that there is utterly no reason to talk, or listen to anyone that disagrees with you.

Today, I am no longer an Orleanian, I am a Louisianan.

Blame a Republican.

Yuh, Mein Libe Tokhter.

"The council also passed a resolution protesting Cox Communications' decision to remove the program guide from its analog cable TV service."

34. I will not turn into a snake. It never helps.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

I have a new favorite frankenfood: Crasins. Basically, dried cranberries. What's so special about dried cranberries you ask?

They're strawberry flavored. Impost-A-Licious!

PS: Next year's holiday craze is going to be stealing your friend's stuff, wrapping it and giving it back to them. You heard it here first.