Two things: I apologize for both the length and the tardiness of this write-up, but I did not start it until I got back to Philly in late January. Secondly, Rebecca, do not read this while you are in class at law school. As you stated the other day, there is a high risk that you will make some sort of loud emotional grunt while reading this accurate account. You should be paying attention to your professor anyway. You’re not going to get your own television show (Judge Schambach: She’s Bach And She Ain’t No Sham) if you sit in class reading the internets. Due to the length, I have provided links to different parts of this thing for easy access.
Table of Contents
- Airport Adventures
- Mel’s Manic Mission
- Bye Bye Old Bruno’s
- Visiting Old Friends
- Drill a Hole in the Pole, Boy Scout
- Lies, Health Care Products, and Betrayal
- Mount Caramel Women Order Me to Stir Cheese
- 2007 Baby!
- Party Slows Down
- So Much Garbage
With regard to the title, I suppose it is really all relative. The party was not that dangerous. It’s not like I run around engaging in dangerous activities, anyhow. I mean, in high school, they called me Jasper Silquetoast and in the senior yearbook, I was voted most likely to avoid danger, even at the expense of pushing elderly people in its path. There were no lions or tigers at this party (unlike Ziegfried and Roy’s New Years parties), and nobody was firing a loaded gun (unlike Ted Nugent’s New Years parties). However, in terms relative to the nondangerous lifestyle I lead, this party was quite dangerous. One person did come away with a significant burn on the hand, and a robot did have some circuits explode out of his body (see below).
Kablammo!!!
So the point is, I was at this New Years party in New Orleans and Melnee and Chris Splealzing’s house. It all started while I was sitting up here in Philly, minding my own business. I got an instant message from Mel inviting me to a New Years bash. She began building it up as the biggest thing since the Alamo and was insisting that I attend. I was about to give her a noncommittal response when she told me she had already looked up the cost of the flight, and it was affordable if my arrival/departure dates were away from New Years Day. Based on that sweet, sweet price I didn’t need much encouraging to spend six days in NOLA. I quickly worked out the logistics and made some flight reservations. I was in the midst of preparation for finals, so I quickly bid Mel farewell and told her I would see her in about a month.
Fast-forward past a rough final exam period; a tense exchange with Mark #1 over issues of Ziegfried and Roy; my attendance to the highly anticipated, first ever performance of The Nutcracker: Nude on Ice; non-secular family present distribution; Sara telling me my beard was unattractive and then dropping my cell phone into a glass of cola; and, of course, the stomach flu tearing through family members faster than a sloth on steroids, and I was on my way to the airport in my rental car. I navigated the Houston freeways like a pro in my rented El Camino. After returning the car to the airport branch of Rento-Car, I took the horse shuttle to the airport.
Since I had to return the car much earlier than my actual flight left, I had a great deal of time to burn at the airport. My first order of business was to get through the security area. On my flight from Philadelphia to Houston, I learned a hard lesson when the security personnel took many of my toiletries and ointments because of new regulations. On this trip, though, I packed all my ointments safely away in my checked luggage and simply had some books in my carry-on bag. I went to the airport Wendy’s and got a baked potato. I had eaten so many greasy things in San Antonio, that my body just needed a break from all that grease.
After finishing that delicious potato with all its starchy goodness, I proceeded to the gate to await my flight. Apparently, this gate was the New Orleans gate, because there were consecutive flights leaving for New Orleans. I was sitting with the people leaving on the flight prior to mine. Since I had some down time, I whipped out a math textbook to bone up for the spring semester. As I read, airport CNN blared overhead. Wolf Blitzer was talking about how some police officers in New Orleans had been charged with murder for an incident on that bridge. He then pondered as to why so many celebrity females have not wearing underpants lately. I was pretty immersed in what I was reading and fairly unaware of the people around me. The lady to my left kept humming and hawing over the situation being described by Wolf Blitzer. I kept reading and after a few minutes she turned to me and asked, “whatcha readin’ there?” I looked up and there was a woman, likely my age or a few years older sitting two seats to my left. There’s really no way of explaining what I was reading while at the same time sounding remotely cool; so, I said I was reading something for graduate school and left it at that. She asked what type of program I was in, etc. I was torn because I was getting into a good rhythm, and I was not particularly interested in her (I don’t like fake blond hair). However, when an attractive girl seeks me out for talking, I figure I better at least see what’s going on. She was an LSU grad who worked for an oil company in New Orleans. She was on her way back from visiting her mother. We small-talked for a bit longer, but I did not think it was going anywhere. Then she used her right hand to brush the hair back from her right ear, revealing a blue-tooth head set for her cell phone. In my mind, the conversation pretty much ended right there. I have no problem with those headsets, but if you have read what I write on this site for long enough, you’ll know that I am not a fan of people that wear those things perennially, as if they have to be ready for that next phone call, especially at the airport gate at 9:00 PM. That type of behavior is going to lead to the breakdown of our social fabric. Soon after this blue-toothed revelation, her flight was getting ready to board, and I communicated that I was actually on the next flight. I bid her farewell and told her to have a good New Year. As she got in line for the “A” boarding group, she took a call on her headset, and that was the end of that.
I read for a while longer until it was time to board the plane. The flight was nice, though it was a little bumpy. I read most of the way there. Since they dim the cabin lights for night flights, I had to use my personal overhead lamp. My row mate seemed quite perturbed by this and kept giving me side glances. He was in a shiny leather coat, though, so his opinion didn’t matter. The plane landed and I deplaned with haste. After collecting my luggage items, I made my way outside and stood on the curb. Chris drove up in his new Hyundai Micotta. I put my bags in the trunk and we were off. The car smelled of new leather and the satellite radio was blaring death metal, Chris’ favorite music.
We got home and Mel greeted me with great enthusiasm. We sat around and talked for a while, catching up on how New Orleans is holding up and how everybody’s holidays were. Mel had off from work until after New Years, but Chris had work the next day, so he went to bed. Mel and I stayed up and talked about plans for the next few days and how I would help with the fabulous party that was set to take place on New Years Eve. The next day, we would embark on a massive shopping expedition while Chris was at work. Mel showed me a list of 37 stores we had to shop at, and we would be doing this with her niece in tow. I felt that perhaps we were putting too much on our plate to try to run those errands in one day with a 2-year-old in our possession, but Melnee yelled at me until I acquiesced. I still find her quite frightening sometimes. I cried myself to sleep in the guest room once it was clear that Mel had gone to bed and was not going to yell any more.
The next morning we got up and had breakfast. Mel was already showered and left for a while to run a few errands and to then go pick up her niece. While she was out, I took the opportunity to take care of some business on the Internet, answering some fan emails and paying my bills. While I took care of this business, Rebecca came over unannounced to disrupt my Internet business bill paying. As usual, she exhibited her attitude. We sat and chatted for a while and then when we ran out of things about which to talk. It got awkward, so she turned the television on and flipped to an HBO On Demand showing of Batman Begins. It was more than halfway through the movie, but I was still quickly engrossed in the plot. Just as I was getting into it, though, Rebecca ordered me to take a shower as she apparently thought I had BO. As I went back to shower, Rebecca taunted me that I would not get to watch the end of the movie. Fortunately, the joke was on her because I was going to imagine how the movie ended. As an added bonus, I could add my own extra scenes and special effects. It would be much better than what she was watching.
After I got cleaned up, I came back out and bragged to Rebecca that my version of the movie was better than the one she was watching. She paid me little mind as she was already focused on The Family Stone. This was the special director’s cut of the movie with Jessica Simpson as the pilot and Carl Weathers as Mr. Jiminy. Before long, Melnee came back with her niece, Madison. Madison played with toys while Rebecca and I argued over whether or not Dermot Mulroney has fake eyebrows or not. I say no, she says maybe. Rebecca finally left to go see her grandmother, and after a few more minutes of The Family Stone goodness; Mel, Madison, and I left to go on 35 errands (Mel had run two in the morning).
First we went to buy Chris a new cell phone. He wanted one of those new shiny ones that can be used to play music and film impromptu racist rants by upset celebrities. Chris asked Mel for a Razr, but the cell phone store employees told us that it does not stand up to much abuse. Since Chris generally bumps into many things throughout the day, it probably would have been unadvisable to purchase this phone for him. The phone Mel ended up getting for him was still quite slick and Chris was happy. I spent the duration of this visit playing chase with Madison until Melnee yelled at us to stay in one spot. I obeyed because she had that angry look on her face.
Our next stop was K-Mart for party decorations and for a Chinese lantern to serve as a ball to drop at midnight at the party. At K-Mart we found some of the items for which we were looking. Melnee decided she wanted to purchase a beach ball, some glue, and some yarn in order to glue the yarn to the inflated ball to MacGyver a ball to drop, in the case we were not actually able to find a Chinese lantern. There were many other party decorations we needed to purchase, and most could have been purchased at the K-Mart. However, Melnee had this preordained list of 30 party supply stores, each carrying certain items, at which she wished to shop. I raised my concerns to her that we could probably avoid visiting excessive stores if we just purchased the items from K-Mart and one of the party supply stores, but she would have nothing of it. So, we shopped at Party City, Party Village, Party Town, Party Municipality, Party Parish, Party County, Party District, Party Zone, Party Area, Party State, Party Territory, Party Alley, Party Factory, Party House, Party Complex, Party Carnival, Party Circus, Party Warehouse, Chet Wheatley’s Party Supply, Party Emporium, Party Supply Depository, Party Favors USA, Party Bazaar, Religious Party Items Inc., Mimes ‘R’ Us, Clown Town, Year ‘Round Mardi Gras Supply, Peter Pringle Pinster Panoply of Party Provisions, Hardy Pardy, and, of course, Wal-Mart.
I was pretty tired at this point, as was Madison. However, Melnee insisted that we also go to Michael’s art supply to find a couple more items. At Michael’s we found glue and yarn we needed for the faux Chinese lantern. However, we also found a real Chinese lantern that was just what the doctor ordered. This ball drop was now officially going to be awesome. There was also some interesting import beer that Mel wanted but chose not to buy.
We finally went home. We turned The Family Stone back on so I could find out how everything wrapped up. At the same time, Mel firmly asked me to assist her in putting glue on yarn to wrap around the inflated beach ball. This was a messy endeavor; however, I was still endeavorin’ to help her complete this project. Madison meanwhile slept on the couch. After a while, Mel and I got tired of wrapping a beach ball with glue covered yarn, and she set the yarn ball out to dry. Mel’s sister called informing us that Aunt Barbara would be coming to pick up Madison and that we should wake her up. Madison and I played with the remaining yarn, playing a game called remove the yarn from the package. Aunt Barbara came and picked up Madison.
We decided to order pizza for dinner and timed it to arrive around the time Chris came home from work. This worked perfectly except that as soon as Chris got home, they told him they needed him back at the office because a computer had exploded due to accidental input of cola. I bet it was Trey who put that cola in there. So, Chris stuffed a entire slice of pizza in his mouth and turned right back around and left to go to the office. Around that time, Darleen called and said she and Meghana were going to say goodbye to Old Bruno’s, which was set to close before the New Year. Rebecca came back over to ride with us there. We waited for Chris and watched The Family Stone again because there were quite a few plot points that I still did not understand. When Chris finally got back, he was still chewing on the pizza he had taken when he left.
We found a spot right next to Old Bruno’s and went inside. Darleen and Meghana had not arrived yet, but that is the way it is with those two. They never arrive when they say they will. A round of beers was ordered and then the television informed us that Sadaam Hussein was executed. A few minutes later, Darleen showed up with her posse, namely Meghana and her main squeeze Kip Brintlestone.
A few of us briefly walked over to get a taste of New Bruno’s. It was quite clean and shiny. The bathrooms could accommodate more than one person and were clean. It was also bigger, and it was packed with people. Darleen refused to stroll over. She was quite upset over the closing of Old Bruno’s as we had spent a great deal of time there over the years. She spent most of the night touching my beard and talking about podiatry.
Her 14th Beard Touch
Later, she and I decided to try to summon Little Daddy J, who was also in town, to come to Bruno’s. When I called him on the phone, he was cordial yet somewhat distant and short with me. He gave an ambiguous answer meant to tell me he was not coming over without actually saying those words. We theorized that he might be playing a game with his friends (I hear he’s a level 22 paladin, whatever that is). Meghana and Kip looked dreamily into each other’s eyes, whispering sweet nothings while the rest of us waited for them to finish. A couple of Chris’ friends from high school showed up including a guy named Brewster. After a great deal of noise and fanfare, they left. Chris played a game of darts with an unidentified third party. It was about time to call it a night, so we left and Chris ran many red lights to get us home quickly.
The next day, Chris and Melnee had to engage in family Christmas events. Since they only needed one car for the day, they game me the keys to Mel’s lovely Ford Focus. I had many people with whom I wished to visit, so I made plans and set out to the Uptown area. My first stop was to eat at Franky and Johnnies with Darleen, Meghana, Kip, Little Daddy J, His Brother, and me. Frankie and Johnnies are masters of po’ boy production. Aside from po’ boys, everything else they serve is pretty much either fried, crawfish, or both. In fact, the entire restaurant has the feel of a place in which a great deal of frying takes place. In my mind, when I picture Frankie and Johnnies, I picture the entire building having been breaded and deep fried.
As for the crawfish they serve, I one time went there with Langdon, Marissa, Hobbs, Randall, and Scott Woof and we ordered a ton a crawfish. In fact, the story of that a event caused a bit of tension at the table. After sitting down and exchanging extensive salutations with all the people at the table, I listened as Hobbs claimed to have never been to Frankie and Johnnies. I was quite dismayed and registered my disapproval with him for making that factual error. He argued the point tirelessly, claiming to not remember ever eating there. This seems to be a common theme with Hobbs, not remembering inconvenient things. He claims to have never told me that he could feel the pull of LSU as Becca goaded him on to become one of their fans. However, I remember that as if it were yesterday. He told me, “Aww, Kirky, Becca’s really pushing that LSU, man. I can feel it pullin’ man.” Then he held a martini glass and wiggled his head side to side. Hobbs claims that story is a complete fabrication, but I heard it from a reliable source (me). Journalistic ethics preclude me from making up this stuff. I just turn on the spigot, and truth pours from my mind. Anyhow, I digress.
I remember Hobbs was there at Frankie and Johnnies on crawfish night because he and I sat across from each other eating the garlic that came with the crawfish with butter on crackers. This actually turned out to be a less than stellar idea, but we were young and stupid back then. How could we know? Even after this revelatory memory, Hobbs continued to insist that he had never been to this place. I called up Langdon to get confirmation of the fact that Hobbs had been at this dinner. First of all, it turns out his name is Landon; a fact of which I had been previously unaware. He stated that he only vaguely remembered the dinner, mostly because he got into an argument with someone at the table. He did not remember who all was at this dinner. I find this hard to believe. How hard is it for someone to remember one meal eaten four years ago? Since Landon refused to cooperate or corroborate the truth, I gave up. At that point, I was happy to let Hobbs retain his delusion.
I then notice that Little Daddy J’s brother Jason had a cast on his leg and asked him about that. At first he dissembled a bit, but he finally revealed that he broke it celebrating a Saints victory over the Dallas Cowboys in Dallas. Apparently, he jumped into a hidden pothole. He and I chatted it up about various accounting procedures and other intricacies of his job. Once that conversation had ended, I confronted Little Daddy J about his demeanor on the phone with me the previous night. He denied that he was short with me, but we both know that was an untruth. Then he tried to deny that he had been playing any sort of game; he claimed to simply be associating with his friends that he had not seen in a long time. Darleen was upset with him too for missing the last day of Old Bruno’s to ever take place. Darleen and I started taking photographs and she insisted that I take a picture of her holding up her absurdly large pairs of sunglasses.
Huge Sunglasses!
Pretty much everybody ordered po’ boys. The food was all quite good, and it was satisfying to return to this wonderful place, even if some people continued to deny every having been there. As we got ready to adjourn, we talked about getting together later in the evening, but these plans were nowhere near set in stone, and I still had other plans that probably would interfere with going out. We all went our separate ways and walked back to our cars, except for Jason who did a combined hobble/crutch-walk.
I got back to Melnee’s fabulous Ford Focus and put calls out to my friends Fritz and Megan. Neither of them answered their phones so I left messages and began driving to Tulane campus to see the new University Center facade. Apparently, even though the building is not yet complete, they have already had a ribbon-cutting ceremony, which I find a bit odd. But, hey, who am I to judge Scott Cowen’s actions? That man has his own website. After a while, Fritz called and gave me directions to his fabulous new apartment. At about the same time, the skies opened up, releasing torrents of rain all around me. I drove to Fritz’s street and found a parking spot on the side of the road. There was water everywhere, and I could not help stepping in it wearing my nice shoes. Also, the stairs up to Fritz’s place are not covered, so I got thoroughly soaked on my trek to his place. Friederich “Fritz” Von Heisenberger XIV is a former coworker of mine, from my days at Tulane’s Student Affairs office. He was one of those coworkers who could be very hard to deal with, what with his constant issuing of verbal and physical threats. I was menaced with a fountain pen no less that twenty-six times and he frequently attempt to put water onto my head while I was working with computers. He could have electrocuted me! However, we forged the bond of friendship while working in the trenches of Student Affairs. Fritz invited me in and gave me the grand tour. It was a fairly nice apartment with wood floors and indoor toilets, always a plus. It was a bit Spartan on the furniture side, but Fritz is a simple man with simple needs and he frequently drinks a simple syrup. Though I had already eaten, Fritz was quite hungry, so he suggested we make a trip to Johnny’s Polo’s for a sandwich. That way I could talk at him while he chewed on food.
We braved the torrential rains and boarded Fritz’s Jeta. It was a quite comfortable machine in which to ride, though the air conditioning blowing on my soaking wet clothes was not the most pleasant feeling. At Johnny Polo’s, Fritz ordered a tongue sandwich and we chatted while they cook went out to get some fresh tongue as the tongue in the store had gone bad. He told me about his Christmas with his seventeen siblings and about the various gifts he bought for them. Afterward, we went back to his place and chatted about his crazy coworker who had an erotic fixation on women’s necks and his various beefy incidents with Tulane. Around that time, Megan finally called me back. She had been bathing her dog at PetCo and was finally home and ready to receive me. I chatted with Fritz a bit more and took my leave to head to Megan’s house. She lived right around the corner, so it was short drive. It was not raining anymore either, so this jaunt was much more pleasant.
Megan lives in the back servant/guest quarters of a house occupied by a man and his mother. There might be some sort of Norman Bates thing going on in there, I don’t know. I just told Megan to be careful. She told me they argue over trivialities such as whose turn it is to use the inflatable bath pillow and which night would be most appropriate for silhouette night. The first room is a small sitting room. Then there is a brief hallway with doors to the small kitchen and bathroom. Then straight through there is the bedroom with television and closet areas. Above the bed is a staircase to an attic. The attic area has been converted into a hookah enjoyment den. The hookah is enjoyed in a drug-free manner.
Megan offered to cook dinner for me. We had spaghetti’s with excellent tomato sauces and garlic bread. While eating, we watched a wonderful movie on TV called Pirates of the Blue Sea: Curse of the Black Chest of Pearls starring the wonderful Johnny Depp as the cunning Captain James Scarecrow. It was about this lady that wanted to marry a British guy with a telescope. However, the black smith has other plans. So anyway, these skeletons get into the mix and then things get really crazy. There’s this coin that they want, but the blacksmith gets upset about it. Scarecrow is put in jail, but the blacksmith sets him free. They go to an island, then the skeletons attack the British guy and his men. Then some stuff happens, someone dies, and everything somehow works out. The last scene of the movie has everybody eating limes and there is a public service announcement about the dangers of scurvy. I hear there’s a sequel out right now. After the movie, it was time for me to leave. I told Megan she should come to the New Years party, but she offered no guarantees. Her mother was coming to town and the French Quarter was beckoning. However I held out hope. I left Megan’s and drove the Melnee’s fabulous Focus home, parking it in front of the house. At some point in the night, somebody drove by and broke her driver side mirror, stopped to pick it up and place it on the car hood, then drove away. My theory is it was Wilford Brimley, but I cannot back up that assertion.
I woke up the next morning, and it was finally the day of the actual party. Rebecca was already there telling everybody what to do. Chris was outside putting the final touches on his ball drop pole. He had adorned the Chinese lantern with white Christmas lights and put it on a 20 foot clown pole. The pole was fixed in a utility bucket of dried concrete. Chris whipped out his trusty Black and Decker drill and drilled holes into the pole as it lay on the ground. He apparently intended to construct a makeshift flag pole so that the ball could be easily raised and lowered. These are the kind of things one learns in Eagle Scout. In retrospect, I suppose I should have behaved better in Cub Scout so that woman would not have asked me to leave. The flag pole rig worked perfectly, and the ball could be raised and lowered at will, Chris’ will. Chris confided in me that he did not think 20 feet was high enough for his flag pole. He wanted to get that thing up on the roof so that it would be taller than anyone else’s because the taller the pole, the more manliness that is implied. Chris needed some stabilization ropes from the hardware store, but he did not have time to fetch them himself. Uncle Pepsi was in town, and a bunch of the family was going to the Saints game to watch them play all the second stringers in the last game of the season. He described the exact type and color of rope he needed and entrusted me with $5.37 to acquire this item. With that, he went to his bedroom to quickly get his Saints tunic on for the game. The tunic is Chris’ unusual little ritual, and I have never asked its meaning. All I know is that it had not been washed since the beginning of the season for luck. Just as he came from the bedroom, Uncle Pepsi and Mel’s dad came in to say hello and collect Chris.
Soon after they left, all sorts of Mount Caramel girls started waltzing in to help set up for the party. Kristen showed up first after Rebecca who was already there. Then Little Meg came with an unidentified girl from Dominican who apparently runs with the Mount Caramel crowd. I had a bone to pick with Meg because I discovered she had been telling lies to me for years. Basically, in the past she has claimed to work for a certain health care supply firm. It was always my understanding that she is indispensable to this company and quite important. Well, while I was living in Houston, I decided to visit the area Whataburger because I was in the mood for a drive through burger. Behind the lady to whom I paid for my meal, was a food service sanitation and first aid kit manufactured by the company for which Little Meg supposedly works. I saw the kit and exclaimed, “Oh, *Company Name*, my friend Meg works there.” Well, let me tell you; to my surprise and dismay, this lady at the drive through window had no idea who Meg was. I figured maybe if I said Meg’s full name, it might jog this lady’s memory. So, I said, “You know, Little Meg, from New Orleans,” but nothing. I got nothing. I drove the next window and got my burger. Back home, I ate the burger, but it just didn’t taste very good. Meg had been making it all up. She didn’t really work at that company. I felt quite disillusioned. I confronted her on this issue and she tried to dissemble and tell some side lies, but I saw through the subterfuge. Finally, she admitted that it was all a big lie; she did not work for the company. I was quite disappointed but glad it was finally over. I figured we could start afresh and that I could finally get to know the real Little Meg. After about forty-seven minutes, I forgave her. Unfortunately, it may been premature. This saga was resurrected a couple of weeks ago. I was waiting on the trolley pad for my Girard trolley when a truck from that health care supply company passed. The driver was an older black man. I emailed Meg later and asked if she knew this guy. She emailed back telling me that the man was actually her father and the he was the one who works at that company. I was satisfied until a few days ago when I realized that Meg is not black. At this point, I am really confused and don’t know what to think.
Anyway, I have digressed again, letting my emotions get the best of me. As the girls arrived, it seemed to be a smart idea to grab a shower before they started monopolizing the bathroom with their makeup and hair accessories. Afterward, I made a trip to the hardware store to get the blue rope Chris requested. Then I picked up ice from Walgreens. The brand of ice they sell is Crazy Cubes, though there is nothing really crazy about them. Most of the ice is not even close to being cubes. Someone should look into that. I brought the ice and rope back, but the girls paid only a bit of attention to all of the hard work I was doing. I had nowhere to go, so I spent the rest of the day being the muscle-bound manservant. I opened many jars. I stirred Little Meg’s hot cheese a number of times because she was busy segregating assorted meats for the sandwiches. Crescent role dough was being wrapped around weenies like there was no tomorrow. Basically I was being ordered much like I ordered that hamburger right before being disillusioned. Mel began extracting the J-E-L-L-O shots from the refrigerator to put in one of the ice chests for later. A conversation erupted about how I would not be able to take any J-E-L-L-O shots but that Melnee had purchased sparkling cider just for me so that I could enjoy the New Years toast. It was about this time that the girls and I hatched a plan.
There was till a box of raspberry J-E-L-L-O mix left. It was going to remain unused until someone suggested making nonalcoholic J-E-L-L-O shots for me. This seemed like an okay idea, but then it got better. Someone suggested that I should eat the J-E-L-L-O in people’s face with impunity under the guise of deciding to throw caution to the wind. Hilarity would ensue when people worried for my safety. The plan was later pared down to focus solely on Hobbs. So Mel and I prepared the J-E-L-L-O mixture and put it in the little shot containers (little plastic cups usually reserved for red sauce or tartar sauce and my family’s seafood restaurants…boy I sure could go for some hush puppies and gumbo about now).
Chris got back from the game, which the Saints lost, since they were protecting their starters for the playoffs. He highly commended me for my rope purchase, as it was exactly what the doctor ordered. He went outside to start stringing the ball and pole up to see if everything was in working order. Mel and I made a quick trip to Aunt Barbara’s to pick up the urinating boy statue, since no party is complete without that young man’s perseverance. We brought the statue back and I assisted as Hobbs tried to get it in working order. The urinating boy usually emits a green Tulane themed beverage, but for New Years, it was decided that he should excrete a red liquid, perhaps signifying that he was ill.
Hobbs Mixes the Liquid
After the liquid was mixed, I helped Hobbs set up the apparatus. He had to clean the whole thing real well since people would be drinking the precious fluid. We got the thing set up and plugged in, and all seemed well. However, a few minutes after being activated, the boy began hemorrhaging. Hobbs unplugged the pump and set about fixing the intake hose with clamps, widgets, and doobobs. However, it was to no avail; the statue was still bleeding. It appeared that the urinating child statue would not be functional. Mel suggested simply leaving the tank of beverage out for all to drink from, but Hobbs was less that thrilled with this idea. He did not want to admit it, but he was crying over the situation, as happens many times when he gets frustrated or goes to sporting events. We thought all was lost but at the last minute, Hobbs came up with an idea. Hobbs is a civil engineer by training. Along with roads, bridges, causeways, freeways, highways, spurs, loops, and boulevards, he knows a great deal about statue building and maintenance, especially statues emitting liquids. It was his minor. Hobbs removed the diseased portion of the apparatus and set the statue up to go directly into the intake tank. Problem solved!
Chris needed help putting the final touches on his pole and ball and was ready to set it up at one end of the back yard. We used the ropes I bought earlier to stabilize the pole so it would not fall over and hurt people. Hobbs was there too, to invoke his engineering knowledges when needed. After setting up the pole initially without the ball on it, Chris emitted some expletives and brought the pole down to attach the ball. Chris attached the ball to the flag apparatus and we raised the pole once more. Chris could raise and lower the ball on command. It was a technical marvel. Yet, Chris was not satisfied. He again stated that he wanted that pole on top of his house. He intended to enlist Hobbs and my help in this endeavor. Allegedly, I was going to help him lift it on the roof and it would be stabilized there. Hobbs commented that on the roof, the stabilizing ropes would not be adequate in certain situations. However, when Chris asked for his opinion on whether this should be done, Hobbs acquiesced. Chris then turned to me and gave me final say on whether this pole in a bucket of cement should go on the roof. I do not claim to be able to see into the future, but at that moment, I was presented with visions of various possible futures if that thing went on the roof. They were all grim. Either it would fall on me as I helped him put it on the roof, Chris would fall off the roof, or the contraption would fall on a guest during the evening. All three outcomes seemed undesirable. Therefore, I played my Jasper Silquetoastian role and advised against putting it on the roof. I think in his heart of hearts, Chris knew this was best because he did not offer any argument.
We got that ball up and running. Somehow, soon after that, some of the lights got knocked out and Chris had to set about making them work again in a quick fashion. He did not seem too pleased with the situation, so I left him to his repairs as I went in to clean up and put on party-type clothes. Somehow, the lights were mostly fixed by the time the party started.
Most of the girls had left to get ready and put frilling things in their hair. They were among the first to arrive back at the party since they technically were hosts just like Mel and Chris. The party itself ramped up quite quickly with people from Tulane and from Mel’s rocket science job at Rocket Scientology Inc. showing up en masse. I finally got to meet Mel’s coworker Kristi Klein Silberstein, about whom Mel always talks. Mel likes her so much because of her rhyming name. I also met a number of Mel’s other fellow rocket scientists, such as Hank Dorfman, Lucy Klinkle, Anna Belle Overton, Ronny Wyley, Jonathan “Pinky” Anderson, Franky Bucketmuth, Georgia Schmidt, Ted van Hausensteinermanson, Jason “Blue Shield” Morton, and, of course, LaDonna Blip. They all seemed like nice people.
Many of the Mount Caramel girls were there, and there were Tulane people as well. My old neighbor from freshman year, a tall, Dolph Lundgren look-alike (who is coincidentally named Trey), was there. We reminisced quite a bit about all the crazy things that happened freshman year, and had happened since. He seemed to be enjoying his job and life. Becca’s mancountant was also in the house and we had a rowdy discussion about auditing car dealerships and the finer points of dentistry. Little Meg was, of course, around, basking in my forgiveness. I found out the interesting fact that she and Trey had gone to some high school dance together. I circulated back and forth eating many chips and finger sandwiches and drinking my cola. At one point, Mel came out and reminded me that I should probably starting consuming the specialty J-E-L-L-O shots that were made especially for me. I decided I should probably agonize over it with Hobbs a bit. So, I went and told him that I felt like having something to drink and that maybe it would be okay. Hobbs’ response was shocking. Instead of acting as a friend should and cautioning me about putting my health in jeopardy over a small cup of gelatinized alcohol, he responded with, “Aww, Kirky, that’s great. You should go for it.” So, we went to the ice chest to retrieve these things for consumption. I made sure I was the one to retrieve the shots so I got the correct one. We consumed them and he seemed happy. This was not going according to plan at all. I found Mel and told her what had happened, and she seemed unfazed. She said that I should just keep eating these things and give him the impression that I was consuming way more than I should. Surely, that would arouse some concern for his old friend Kirky, right? So, throughout the evening, we executed this plan. At one point, Mel informed Hobbs out of my earshot that she was worried about me since I had had at least nine J-E-L-L-O shots in her presence. He seemed excited, though, that I had finally cut loose. No concern for me or my pancreas (Phil). I was shocked and appalled. Meanwhile, the evening was unfolding mostly according to plan. As I stated earlier, my old neighbor Trey was there. He had arrived with a cup of unidentified liquid and held onto that cup for the entire evening.
Mmmmm Cup of Liquid
I chatted with the best man from the Sprealzing wedding. He apparently owns twenty-six pugs now, pictures of which he displays on his pug website. He owns many websites as well, and they bring in vast riches to his bank accounts. Some of his sites are quite racy, though, so I am not going to put any links to them on this websites. Sorry Matthew, but we run a clean operation here. Every now and then, I would make a point of consuming a J-E-L-L-O cup in the presence of Hobbs just to keep up appearances. He was still unworried so I went to Melnee for help. She decided the next thing to do would be to tell Hobbs that I was not looking so hot. She did a convincing job of seeming worried. I followed up by telling Hobbs that I was starting to think all this drinking was not such a good idea and that I was feeling quite sick. I feigned almost throwing up and he was certainly startled and worried about this clothes, but as soon as I looked under control, he dropped the subject.
Some notables were also missing from this shindig, despite offering virtual guarantees of attendance. Meghana and her man Kip did not show up, and neither did Little Daddy J. Little Meg was certainly there, but her wily doppelganger Gargantuan Peg called to say she couldn’t make it. Mel Noir was on a ship sailing through the Strait of Hormuz.
I split my time between the inside and outside crowds, not wanting to favor one over the other. There was definitely some yet to be identified tension leading to the indoor/outdoor segregation. In the hours leading up to midnight, somebody a couple of streets over spent a great deal of time setting off an endless barrage of prepared fireworks boxes that must have cost about $2000. That person ended up running out well before the actual New Years, so I am sure he or she (most likely he) felt quite silly. Mel and Chris’ neighbor across the street neighbor spent the entire evening racing his new dirt bike around the block without a helmet, just tempting natural selection. Their other neighbor, creepy, beardy Richard also roamed the streets for a while before retiring for the evening. I am sure the ruckus of exploding things confused him greatly.
Chris, Hobbs and some of the other guys started fiddling with the fireworks. Hobbs had purchased a variety of items for a fiery celebration along with a couple of prefabricated boxes guaranteed to put on a good show. Unfortunately, that guy two streets over had already stolen the show in terms of volume. However, I felt that Hobbs’ fireworks would still be better because Hobbs was involved. Aside from the two prefabricated boxes, Hobbs had four crates of assorted incendiary items. There were sparklers, bottle rockets, mad hatters, lucy lius, rajun cajuns, star destroyers, flaming rejects, handsome hammies, psycho suzies, pleasant petunias, exploding bosom poppers, and, of course, black cats to name just a few. For about an hour before New Years, explosions were the norm in the Sprealzing back yard. It was insane. I felt heat pass across the back of my neck at least twice. For the most part, I stayed away from this action, but I still managed maintain a close enough range to make some photographs to document this dangerous behavior.
Dangeresque!
At some point, Chris tried to put a sparkler in a bottle and missed, resulting in the sparkler sliding down his hand and burning a hole in it. It was quite a gruesome injury, but Chris seemed okay with it. Rebecca tried to light a goody two-shoes before throwing it into the yard, but somehow she instead threw it into the back door causing a small problem that was quickly brought under control.
Rebecca, Look What You Did!
With New Years rapidly approaching, things kicked into high gear. Mel and some of the other hosts started distributing glasses of champagne. Chris sprinted to his large pole of doom to get ready to lower the New Years ball. Mel had handed me the special sparkling cider so I could participate in the toast. Plus, it would further the illusion that my drinking was out of control. The countdown went off without a hitch and the ball was dropped perfectly (one might say he didn’t “drop†the ball! Yeah, that’s right; I went there). It was 2007, hot off the presses, and it was sooo awesome! I exchanged a hearty handshake with Little Meg and multiple suspicious looks with Rebecca. Hobbs executed both of his fireworks boxes and they went off without a hitch, producing all sorts of bright lights and colored fire while at the same time not hurting anybody.
After a little while, the newness of 2007 began to wear off. It just was not cool anymore. People milled around for a bit, but you could tell they just were not that into it. All of Melnee’s coworkers left, dejected as to how quickly 2007 had become just like any other year. When you think about it, though, this should have been expected. I mean, it’s like Einstein used to say, “Is this year better than last year? It’s all relative, I suppose.” That was actually how he ended his Nobel acceptance speech.
Things began to go a bit downhill at this point. Mel and I confronted Hobbs about his friendly negligence with regard to protecting me from my own self destructive behavior. Hobbs claimed he was happy I was just having a good time. Then we revealed our deception. Strangely, Hobbs was upset. He could not believe we had deceived him, or that we had remained committed to the deception for about twelve hours, or that we would do such a thing to him. I was still fixated on the betrayal, but that quickly subsided when Hobbs started complimenting me on my acting abilities. I was quite flattered. I briefly thought about quitting school and moving to Los Angeles to become an actor, but I decided that would not be a good idea. Likely, I would find great success, but then I would probably start wearing sunglasses indoors and talking to my agent on the cell phone in restaurants. I would probably develop a drug habit; Oxycontin in chocolate pudding. Then, a few years later, I would be driving and get pulled over by a police officer. I would make controversial remarks about women who wear their hair in ponytails, since the religion I will belong to at that point would forbid such things. All the news networks would report on what happened, I would be forced to make a statement acknowledging what I said and apologizing, insisting that the Oxycontin laced pudding was the reason I made those statements, and that is not how I feel in my heart. Then I would check into rehab for a few weeks until the heat died down. So, in conclusion, it is probably better that I stay in the math and don’t move to Hollywood.
Anyhow, after the fat had been figuratively trimmed off the party list, the remaining die hard guests moved indoors. We milled about talking and eating cake and cheetos. It was nice. I sat on the couch alternating between talking to Chris and Hobbs. Chris’ burn wound was looking mighty festering. He was proud of it, but I think that inside, he was screaming. He finally put ointments on it and went to bed. Hobbs sat next to me for a while, making many controversial statements, as Hobbs is wont to make. Matt and Rebecca, the best man and best woman from Mel and Chris’ wedding were acting quite chummy throughout the night, and it turned out that they were hatching an evil scheme. They took every type of beverage-drink they could find in the house and mixed it into one concoction and stored the mixture in an empty bottle. Matt and Rebecca then circulated the house soliciting people to drink from the bottle. Brewster took a swig and was unaffected. A few other people drank it and nearly became violently ill. Hobbs took a swig, and he initially seemed okay. He sat on the couch with me making Hobbsesque remarks. We were talking about something when he tried to make the point, ” you see Kirky, the thing is…*strange digestive noise*…aww Kirky, that stuff is nasty…I think I gotta go outside and be sick.” He came back in a few minutes later, seemingly more composed. He told me that he did not really get sick. He just had to shake it off for a bit. Things finally began to slow down. Air mattresses were brought out, and everybody who was staying started getting ready for bed (i.e. lying down at the most convenient location). Hobbs committed a scandalous faux pas that I will not dignify with a coherently arranged set of alphabet-letters describing the act. There was a great deal of upset, mostly from Rebecca and Jessica, that I had commandeered the guest bedroom, since I was actually from OUT-OF-TOWN.
We all had to pitch in the next day to help clean up the mess. Hobbs had left early to go to church. Matt had gotten up at some point in the evening and driven home to his wife. Brewster also left. The rest of us got up and ate some leftover foods. Then we started cleaning. Chris took his lawnmower to the back yard to try to render the fireworks waste that covered the yard. There was still much to pick up by hand. We got it all cleaned in about an hour, or at least cleaned enough to be acceptable to Melnee. We sat and watched The Family Stone for a third time, just to really figure out what was going on in this movie. After a while, everybody left except for me since I had nowhere to go. Hobbs called and said he would be over to help clean the mess. Nobody had the heart to tell him that the cleaning had taken place hours earlier. He came over around 5:00 PM and finding nothing to clean, powdered his nose and left.
The rest of the day can pretty much be summed up with we sat on the couch. Chris and I attempted to go out looking for foodstuffs, but the Quizno’s around the corner was closed and we weren’t that dedicated to the mission. The next day was a Monday and both Chris and Mel had to work. Julia was in town, and we agreed it was time we buried the hatchet. Thus, she came to pick me up from Mel and Chris’ and we went to lunch at Slim Goodies on Magazine. We had a tasty brunch during which we discussed a variety of topics. It was decided that Julia and I would try to be more civil with one another in the future to avoid confrontations, so we’ll see how that goes. Julia also took the opportunity to let it be known that my beard is less than attractive. So much for avoiding confrontations, I suppose. The food was quite good and unhealthy at good ol’ Slims. The waitress was socially awkward and made both of us uncomfortable. We drove around for a bit before Julia took me back to Mel and Chris’ so she could get on the way back to Alabama, to her hometown of Portuguese Citadel. That evening, Mel lent me her car once more so that I could again visit Megan and have some dinner. Megan was pretty sick when I saw her this time, so I spent about half my visit with her washing my hands repeatedly with extra vigor. We ordered things from Fresco. I ordered a salad that was advertised as having sun-dried tomato vinaigrette. What that turned out to actually mean was sun-dried tomatoes in a bit of oil and vinegar. Megan was pretty out of it, so I went ahead and left after dinner to let her sleep off this terrible illness. That night, I bid Chris farewell since he would be at work when I left. The next day, Mel took a half-day at work and took me to the airport. Thus ended my seemingly endless trip to New Orleans. That’s all I gotta say about that.