Thank you, Imminent Ned. I made the above image the other morning after seeing something similar on r/NewOrleans.

Yes, Mardi Gras approaches (Holy Crap, Krewe du Vieux is Saturday!), and I’ve been immersing myself in Game of Thrones and work. And mead.

I’ve almost finished book five of GoT, and I’ll never finish the mead – there’s just not enough in the world for me.

That’s all for now. Back soon, I promise.

I had an idea this afternoon, and have built out a “twitter app” that does just this.

All people have to do is follow the account, and if they choose, have it notify them via text message of the checkpoint. It won’t have the location – just a link to the checkpoint, but with so many people having internet capable phones, I think it’ll be just fine.

I might add some sort of Facebook cross-posting, but I figure one person will then put the info there, then others will ‘like’ or whatever, so I’m leaving it out for now. So for you New Orleans twitter users, go follow @NO_dui.

Anyways, outside of the usual High Lifes, here were my comps:

 
Hibiki – “A harmonious blend of handcrafted select specially aged whiskies”. Not really a comp, but a sample from the Tales of the Cocktail. Not bad, but the overall impression was that while we made the swallowing motions, that didn’t actually happen. It seemed to evaporate in our mouth. Last time I checked, half the reason why I drank whiskey was the taste. The other half was for what it did once in my belly and then bloodstream.

 

 
Abita SOS – A Charitable Pilsner. Pilsner my ass – this beer was hoppier than an IPA. For most that would be fine, but to me and to Bailey who shared the drink with me, it was bad due to the fact that we hate IPAs and hoppy beers in general. The nicest parts of this beer were the charitable donation to oil-y stuffs and the scrimpin’ boots on the bottle.

Sorry Abita, I, er we, tried.

1. Every time they mention hurricane Katrina, drink 1
2. If they show pictures of the City of New Orleans right after Katrina, drink 1
3. Every time they say how much the Saints mean to the City of New Orleans , drink 1
4. Every time the words “tragedy”, “flood”, or “devastation” are used, drink 1
5. Every time they talk about how good Reggie Bush was in college, drink 3
6. If they show Kim Kardashian in the stands, drink 5
7. Every time they show a picture of Reggie Bush with a bat or say “bringing the wood” drink for 5 seconds.
8. Every time Reggie Bush gets negative yardage trying to run around in the backfield a bunch and outrun the defense, drink 1 and turn to the person next to you and say “I told you Vince Young should have won the Heisman”
9. Every time Reggie Bush gets up and flexes his arms in that pose he likes to do, drink 1
10. If they mention Tim Tebow for any reason, funnel a beer
11. Every time they say that “it’s destiny for the Saints to win” drink 1
12. If they show footage of Katrina survivors at the Superdome, take a shot of cheap liquor
13. If they call Saints fans the most passionate fans in football, drink 1
14. If they say that the Saints, Saints fans, or the City of New Orleans “deserve” a Superbowl victory, drink 1
15. Every time they say how good of a story the Saints are, drink 1
16. If Jeremy Shockey pretends to be hurt after dropping a pass, drink 2
17. If they mention the Saints beating the Falcons in 2006 in the first game after Katrina in the Superdome, drink 5 and remember that we are still a better football team with better fans.
18. Every time they compare hurricane Katrina to the Haiti earthquake, funnel a beer and yell “bullshit!”
19. Every time they mention Drew Brees as the Mardi Gras king, drink 1
20. Every time they show Archie Manning, drink 1, and mention how bad he sucked. If they show old footage of him on the Saints, drink 5. If they mention how tough of a decision it was for him as for whom to cheer for, drink 10.
21. Every time they show a saints fan yelling “Who dat!” Or a sign/shirt saying the same, drink 1.
22. If they show Chris Paul at the game, drink 1 and mention to someone how much better he is than Devon Williams.
23. If they show former Mayor Ray Nagin, drink 5 and then punch someone in the face

And I took this photo today, and proceeded to quickly devour the subject matter.
It tasted like victory.

 
Lemon and apple are by far my favorites, but how could I possibly turn down a Chocolate City Hu-Dat?

About 15 minutes after arriving at his house, his two laptops and his wife’s desktop (who was up until today connecting via dial-up – *the horror*) were hooked up to his new wireless connection, and he was showing me his few prized pieces of artwork by our mutual friend, Maggie.

I wasn’t planning on taking any payment, but he made me an offer I couldn’t possibly refuse; a bottle of Jameson’s 18 year old Limited Reserve.

 
Needless to say, I was floored. This is on average an $80 bottle of whiskey, and in no way is this “payment” remotely close to the value of the time I spent. Then again, his wife is no longer on dial-up – I’d say he won the day.

I am unfortunately not enjoying a glass of it this evening, as I didn’t want to bike home with it – I opted instead to leave in the jostle-free environment of my office. I’ll collect it tomorrow, and probably won’t have a good chance to enjoy it until Saturday.

Oh, how I look forward to Saturday. And no, you can’t come over just yet.

For me, Halloween started on Thursday, with a VooDoo hash where I ended up running circle in a cemetery and talking with a newly-returned-home-Jason. I wish I could have run trail, but it wasn’t too likely due to the recent perpetration of hate upon my “bad” knee:

 
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t have nice things. This happened after the Saints victory over the Dolphins the other week – I guess that since they’re doing so well, I have to compensate by hurting myself.

I fear to think of what might happen towards the end of the season and beyond.

Anyways, Halloween started out pretty awesome: a nice two hour, 2 bottle of wine lunch at the Bistro with Bea and my folks, which turned into an extra beer or two with them at Molly’s.

We got some downtime (not saying that the morning at that point was particularly tedious), and Bea whipped up her costume, while I shaved mine:

 

 
That first photo isn’t the best of me – even considering just how overwhelmingly handsome and über photogenic I naturally am – the photographer is all of 5 foot negative 3. Always take pics from above (when you can). For my costume, I went with the path of least resistance – Earl of My Name is Earl. Bea’s costume was whipped together in about an hour – vines from the backyard, a top I bought at a thrift store for me for a drag queen hash the other week, and my sister’s old debutant dress. We rock.

We headed back over to Molly’s to meet up with hashers and “regular friends” alike for the parade, and opted to just hang out there for the duration of the parade – just take it easy. Next thing we know, the parade is back, and we’re wandering around with friends. We walked down Frenchmen St. and next thing we knew, it was 11:30 and we were at home, calling it a night.

I know, exciting.

The real drag here is that I picked up some bug, and by Sunday afternoon when I had to hare the Black Dress Run, I wasn’t feeling so hot, and five days later, I still don’t. Witness last night’s Guy Fawkes Hash:

 
So, to those of you who came in town this weekend, I’m sorry and I suck.

For me, it started on Thursday. The VooDoo hosted a Red Dress Run, hared/led by myself and Fill Me Up (fellow VooDooer) through the Marigny. It was really more of a crawl, but still fun – about 50 people showed up – much more than our usual of high 20′s / low 30′s.

From the start at Royal and Frenchmen, we led them on a less-than-straight-line to the Friendly Bar on Chartres and Marigny, then to Markey’s in the Bywater, Marie’s on St. Roch and Burgundy, and finally back to the beer coolers in the Elysian Fields neutral ground by Royal St.

Friday was the official Red Dress Pre-Lube run, an event for hashers only. We started at Lucy’s, made our way over to the ferry (that was surreal) to the Crown and Anchor, had a food stop on Decatur, and made our way back. Despite the full belly, yours truly even managed to claim the title of “FRB” – also known as Front Running Bastard.

There are a bunch of pics on hashspace, which is unfortunately a private community so I’m unable to upload any pics. But, like most people, I downloaded my favorites (of me, duh), and put them up on flickr:

My best man ( Pistolette’s hubby, “Q”) and myself:

Q, my co-hare from the previous day, me, Bea:

Synchronized Jello shots w/ Neil at the ferry landing:

Neil and I, leaving the ferry, back on the Eastbank:

Needless to say, it was fun. And sweaty, which is a perfect prep for the mania that is the Red Dress Run.

This was my 4th RDR. Over these short years, I have almost seen it double. Each year. This year the estimate was that there were over 5,500 attendees. I’m guess that 1/11th of the participants were actually hashers.

While walking there (I had a huge-ass VooDoo banner, couldn’t ride), we passed a Mom and her presumable ‘tween daughter and likely friend, who asked for a picture. We obliged. We should have gotten a copy for ourselves – alas, no such luck.

When Bea and I had finally arrived, we were soaked – the skies opened up and rained in a way that can only really happen here. I wasn’t too concerned though – I knew we’d dry, it would help cool off the area, and my dress had been washed enough that I knew it wouldn’t run.

Words cannot describe the crowd that had amassed – the only thing I could compare it to are those photos of blood-red waters when whales/sharks are being slaughtered. I was so glad to be a hasher – we got balcony access – no lines for bathrooms or beer.

The crowds from there spread in all directions, a solid mass of red. The day progressed as one might expect – a huge, roaming mass of confusion. People assumed that I knew where to go – I did not, and eventually stopped trying to explain that finding the trail is all part of the game.

I carried that monstrous banner all day, and was glad to do it; everywhere I went I not only had shade, but also served as a beacon to other friends who knew what to look for.

The day proceeded as one might expect, as we consumed copious amounts of beer and liquor-infused watermelon-flavored jello. The later it got, the thinner the crowd became – we lost people all along the way – many stayed put on various bars on Bourbon St., I reckon.

I do remember that on the “final stretch”, a number of us decided to run. This is supposed to be a hash, right? Someone on South Peters yelled to us as we passed “Hey! This isn’t a race!”, to which I could only reply “And you’re not a hasher!” The sonner you get there, the more beer there is – it’s as simple as that.

After inhaling food on the balcony of the Ernst Cafe (and carrying Neil 1/2 a block and up a flight of stairs over my shoulders), 8 of us split for greener pastures. And by greener pastures, I mean bluer pools.

Bea and I picked up an extra 12 pack of Abita Amber, and in the pool, the imbibing may have even accelerated. The beer evaporated and was replaced by tequila, vodka, wine, and chartreuse. Q and I even managed to play a game of shot-glass chess (red vs. white wine) before the night was called.

After dropping off some others, I ‘d say we got home at about 1am. And believe it or not, I was in good shape the next day – a mere hint of a headache.

For more photos and further reading, I’ll point you to Pistolette’s blog post and flickr photos.

Man, I almost can’t wait till next year. Wait, no. Yes, I indeed can wait – I need a break.

I think I’ve learned my lesson.

I have learned recently that I “suffer” from Runner’s Knee. Since I’ve started hashing, I’ve noticed that sometimes part-way through the run, often the day after, my right knee and hip have given me grief. It usually amounts to stiffness/soreness and a sharp pinching-like sensation in my knee and hip. It’s hard to describe, but it only happens on the right side.

I decided to ask Herr Google™ about these symptoms, and based on its description and recommended therapy/stretching, I have come to believe that it is indeed Runner’s Knee.

Before last week’s hash, I did the recommended stretch once or twice during the day, and also right before I took off to lay trail. I’m glad to say that neither during the run, or the day after, did I have any problems in either my hip or my knee.

And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaaaay.

Well, I plan on attending this Thursday’s hash in Metry Brah, and the day after is the 2009 Tchoupitoulas Bar-A-Thon. 6 bars, 6 beers, 6 miles.

I guess I better start stretching.

What? Hashers? What’s the deal? I hear you say. Familiar with the Red Dress Run? That’s us on a weekly basis (sans red dresses). We’re a drinking club with a running problem, and if you ‘re interested in working up a thirst by hunting down a guy in a kilt running around leaving a trail of flower, and quenching said thirst with beer, then this is for you.

What to bring: (required)

• Sense of humor
• $1
• 6-pack of your beer of choice

What to bring: (recommended)

• whistle
• flashlight

We meet at 6:30, and I take off at 7:00. Come catch me!

In preparation, a big ole group of us will be riding around the city in limos, wearing tuxes and dresses, to go bar-hopping with a police escort. As for me, I’m donning a pair of green Chucks, a black kilt, tuxedo shirt, green bow-tie, and my green tuxedo jacket with green velvet lapels. Hott, with two Ts.

In prep, I’ve had a big glass of water, and some cereal. I’m about to have another big glass and a sandwich, then I’ll be over at Molly’s for 8 for my first drink of the day.

*deep breath*

And I plan on obnoxiously “liveblogging” (aka twittering) the bars we have arrived at, and the drinks we have consumed, so you can witness the progression from “Hello, good sir.” to “WHARRGARBL!”

But, what is WHARRGARBL and where does it come from, you ask? The internets, my children. The internets.