Vodka & Pancakes

the things I eat and the drinks I drink…a Louisiana blog

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Galaxies, Syphillis & Pay Phones. All in Louisiana.

Somewhere in southern Louisiana iPhone and I got in a fight.  It was more of a test of will, one that phone bested me in. Apparently it decided it didn’t want to live anymore and died in my hands.  Seeing as I was hundreds of miles away from my house (I don’t know geography or distance all that well, it could have been millions of miles for all I give a fuck), I realized I needed to find my way from central Louisiana to southern Mississippi then to western Louisiana back to central.  All without my mapapp.  And any common sense.

Since, like I said, I lack all common sense this plan seemed easy enough to tackle.  Mississippi?  It’s to the right.  Louisiana go back left.  What other directions do you need?

An unfortunate realization hit me as I made my way around southern Louisiana.  Pay phones have gone way of the dinosaur.  Actually, now that I have a new cell phone (fuck you stupid Apple), I realize that the fact I’d sooner find a velociraptor than a pay phone is actually safer.  I’d rather be chased by a dinosaur any day than any one of the people I’ve seen milling around a pay phone.


Someone advised me in my search to find a pay phone: “go to the most ghetto area and find the most ghetto convenient store.”  I wasn’t looking to score drugs.  Nor was I looking to die, so I just stopped at an average-to-poor gas station and asked if they have one.  No.  But I can attest to the fact that southern Louisiana, for this point Lafayette to be exact, is full of friendly people.  As I stood outside the average-to-poor gas station pondering my next move (since I had no idea where I was or where I was going), a gay black man dressed like a pimp asked if I wanted to use his galaxy.  Yes.  I absolutely do.

As I took his iPad sized phone, I was thinking ‘who owns a galaxy?’ but then came to the realization that I soon will because I’m going to go burn down my local Apple Store.  Then I had another thought, that the only other person I have met that owns a galaxy lives in Baton Rouge.  Do all people in Louisiana have galaxies?  Do I have to move there once I get mine?

Once (five years ago) I was in New Orleans supposed to meet a friend living there for drinks.  He canceled and wanted to reschedule for the next night but I told him I had to be in Lafayette so that was a no-go.  What he informed me next has stuck with me for years.  “Everyone in Lafayette has syphillis so you should stay in New Orleans.”  Everyone?!  I was intrigued.  Sounded like World War Z in the making.  Since then I have always made it a point, when someone says they’re from Lafayette to ask if they have syphillis.  The reaction to that question is varied, I’ve been laughed at, looked at like  I was about to be murdered and even several plain, “no, do you?”.  “Oh me?  No.  No syphillis.  I’m from Texas.”

So around 8pm (after leaving the house at 8am), I finally made my way back home with a new found respect for galaxy owners and pimps alike.  They’re not all bad people.  I’m thinking I’m about to join them.


I forgot all pictures so here’s this.



TCU/LSU & the TV Show Lost…

I went to the TCU/LSU game yesterday because I’m a badass.   This moment has been in the making for two years since it was announced, so obviously, we didn’t halfass it.  Game started at 8pm and tailgating started at 11am.  Who knows how to party?  Sometimes this girl.


We finally drunkenly made it to Cowboy Stadium.  Shit show.  My boyfriend hates when I use that term but honestly nothing could describe it better.  So as I waited in line for beer for maybe no less than 45 minutes I realized I had no idea where I was.  Nor did I have my ticket.  No worries, surely in a sea of 100,000 people I could find at least one I know.  Anyway, I get to the front of the line, like I said, after 45 minutes, only to be told they are out of beer.  I was too confused to be angry.  “So wait.  I have been standing in this beer line and now you tell me now that I finally get to the front of this line, you have no beer?”  “Yes exactly.  But you can go get in that line over there and they have beer.”  Oh, THAT line of 200 people has beer.  That’s fantastic.  It’s not like I’m fucking doing anything like watching the most expensive football game of my life.  So I decided, ‘fuck this and fuck you’ and wandered around til I found my seat.  When I sit down I hear “where have you been the last hour and where is the beer?”

LSU cups

Some people I know came in from Louisiana for the game (big TCU fans) and informed me they don’t have Facebook.  Mind.  Blown.  It’s made me reconsider my relationship with Facebook.  That and I posted a pic of me and the boyfriend (I went to TCU and he LSU) saying he threatened to murder me if TCU won.  30 people liked it.  I just said someone was going to murder me.  My friend commented I am probably much ‘scrappier’ than I look.  If you have ever met me, ‘scrappy’ is not a word one would use to describe me.  I think the people from Louisiana are doing it right.

But back to the game.  We were coming home and all I wanted was a grilled cheese from Jack in the Box.  Actually, let me correct myself.  I didn’t want a grilled cheese and curly fries from jack in the box, I wanted pizza.  But when we moved, we moved to an area that only has two Jack in the Boxes (weird) and a Churches (who cares).  Now I have no where to eat drunkenly at 2am unless I go to Jack in the box.  It’s funny, there is a Jack in the Box to the left and there is a Jack in the Box to the right but last night I couldn’t find either if my life depended on it.  I could walk outside right now and hit Jack in the Box with a rock.  Couldn’t find it last night.  Well, as my friend says, “sorry for partying.”  I don’t think he used it in reference to Jack in the Box but whatever.  It’s like that time I woke up and didn’t remember eating at Jack in the Box til I got in my car and there were curly fries everywhere.  Apparently I’m a messy eater.  It was as if I just threw them all around my car.

Cowboy stadium

This has nothing to do with anything but my boyfriend recently introduced me the the tv series Lost.  It’s amazing how everything can be referenced back to Lost.  My boyfriend was asking me the other day (me being a vegetarian) what menu item I would like to have added to restaurants since I hate the ambiguous ‘vegetable plate’ so much.  I said peanut butter sandwiches.  Good idea right?  Maybe a peanut butter sandwich and some chips?  Too delicious for menus apparently.  Like on Lost when Charlie finally is able to give Claire the peanut butter she desperately wants.  She made the comment no one in Australia likes peanut butter. Now that’s a blanket statement.  And is it accurate?  I never really have had much of a desire to go to Australia (even though I have met three people from there and they were all wildly attractive) and now due to the fact Claire said no one likes peanut butter over there I’ll never go.  I always knew they were convicts but they don’t like peanut butter?  It’s all too much.

But anyway, unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your views, TCU lost last night.   I, fortunately, didn’t have to forfeit my life or put my ‘scrappy’ skills to use.

It’s like that time on Lost…

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Burger King & Shreveport. Two things I shouldn’t like.

If you don’t like Burger King, then we have two problems.  One- this is about Burger King.  Two- I love Burger King (which sounds more like my problem).

My love of Burger King started several years ago when I used to travel a lot for work.  I had to find restaurants that accommodate vegetarians and this is the only fast food place that serves veggie burgers- not all that well, I might add.  I have had a frozen one (several actually), one that was so burn it almost broke my teeth and pretty much everything in between.  Although I guess I can say I have never had one that’s well cooked.

That’s the problem with fast food.  By the time you realized you’re fucked, you are too far away to do anything about it.  So I’ll just stick with eating my food frozen.

Side Note: I’m at home listening to Pandora.  God, John Mayer is a douche.  Thumbs down.

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The Dungeon. A Vampire Bar. Obviously.

It took me bit to decide to write about this since its quasi-fucked up and portrays me like an idiot.  I would say, ‘don’t judge’ but based on all the other material in this blog…blahblahblah.

I was in New Orleans this past week, seeing as my boyfriend has family there we try and go a couple times a year.  We had walked around the Quarter during the day, going in and out of shops, bars, etc.  We had walked by this bar called The Dungeon (dun-dun) and my boyfriend non-chalantly said it was a vampire bar that opened at midnight.  Well I un-non-chalantly pointed out that we don’t have many Fangtasias in Fort Worth and let’s please acknowledge that shit’s crazy.  I knew True Blood was real.

The next day we decide to have Sunday Funday so we woke up went to Dante’s Kitchen for brunch and started drinking.  One of my boyfriend’s insane friends (understatement) joined us and next thing you know everyone is drunk (understatement).

I state my intention that at midnight we are all going to The Dungeon.  At this point it’s 1:30 and we have been at it since 10am.  No one believed we (let alone me) would last til midnight to go hang out with vampires but I was determined.  Everyone had stories about this place but had actually never been.  Sex in public, people actually drinking blood, etc. So obviously my interested was peaked.  I was on vacation and ready to see some crazy shit.

It dwindled down to three (we left the guy my boyfriend’s little sister was hitting on at the bar because he was a total douche and I’m almost positive he was missing half his brain) and when midnight finally hit we set off for the French Quarter.  We went into the front door of The Dungeon only to find you have to walk down this extremely dark narrow path, which I swear was like half a mile, covered in trees (dear God New Orleans is fucking humid) down a stone alley way that takes you to the front of the bar.  We showed our IDs to get in and went into the darkest bar known to man.

My picture sucks but obviously the place was dark.  I mean all the vampires would have died otherwise.  In all honestly, I had been drinking for 14 hours and there was a sign on the wall that said no pictures.  But, vampires don’t show up in pictures so I don’t really know what their problem was.  Anyway I tried to be sly, almost fell out of my seat but I got his great pic.

 Everyone in there looked normal, especially the fat old dude in the corner but he bought all our drinks so he ended up being pretty cool,  but since I hadn’t seen a vampire before I wasn’t sure what to look out for.  I sure didn’t see any people having sex and I sure as fuck didn’t see Alexander Skarsgard.

I guess vampires don’t like Sunday Funday.  So I went back to the hotel, ordered a grilled cheese and passed out.