NEW ORLEANS | I come from a very odd pairing; my mother and father were quite possibly one of the oddest couples I have ever encountered. The one similarity that always comes to mind is that both of them could illicit laughter from a group at the drop of hat. My mom is very funny and almost anyone who knows her will attest that she can find the comedy in just about any situation you give her. My dad was the kind of man who was very quiet, until a drop of Dixie Beer hit his lips and suddenly he was Don Rickles.

Women have always been a mystery to me.  From my earliest memories until now, I can think of only a few occasions on which I have actually understood what a woman was saying, without having to just agree with them and allow them their way, based on the fact that I am a man who prides himself in his Southern charm.  When my mother speaks to me, I know in the first five words if I am going to understand what she is saying or just nod my head and agree with her.  With my sister, it is the way she addresses me.  If she calls me Ryan, look out.  If she calls me Brud, then I am safe to listen without clenching my butt cheeks together.  With Bff Dore, it is the way she breathes before she even speaks that gives me a clue as to how much I should even try to understand on the first go-round.  I have just reverted to assuming that on a regular basis I will receive a “talking to” from Bff Monique.

I think people should shower alone as little as possible. My philosophy behind this statement is that showering, although a much needed task can sometimes be a waste of valuable time. Throw in another person and you have the mixings for getting two things done at once. Now get your minds out of gutters, I am talking about simple things, like discussing the bills, settling up old debts, carpooling, or just plain snuggle time if your relationship allows. If more of us showered together, think of the water we would be saving, the more water we save, the more water there is to grow plants in Africa to feed Sally Struthers, the more Sally eats the less we have to watch her on TV the less TV we watch, the less we know about global warming, and the less we know about global warming, the easier it is to ignore.

Using a mask to scare the crap out of people is super fun.  No matter how many times it has happened to you, chances are, all of the fear and loathing will go right out of the door when you get a chance to slip one on and jump out at your Bff with the weak bladder.  My uncle Butch scared me with a gorilla one, I scared my sister with a wolf one, and she scared Brennan with the same wolf one, now Brennan goes after Kaylan with his own version.  It just gets passed down through generations.

I guess without doing any real research one must assume that masks were used to hide the face, or at least this one’s face.  I have had to hide my face so many times; several of my friends have given one of my looks the name “The Quarter Look”.  It is so named because it is the look that I get when someone I don’t want to see sees me and I have to let them know that I do see them but really don’t want to see them.  It’s a simple head-bent-down smile, right hand over the brow, gently bent towards the face, leaving the mouth visible only.  Anymore than that, and you look as though you are playing Alien with yourself.

It seems while everyone around me is fussing about what they are going to dress as for Halloween, I am being left in the dirt.  It’s not that I do not enjoy the holiday set aside for celebrating the darker side of life, it’s just that the last thing I need to do is add more stress to my life choosing an alter ego for one night of debauchery.  We all know I am perfectly capable of ruining my own reputation by never having shown my face at a single event for a month and somehow, I am out, drunk and biting midgets.  If only I were as interesting as people think, or say, for that matter.  Well, okay, maybe I am a little off the chain now and then, but really, this Halloween is going to be different.  Not in the sense that I am going to choose a different costume.  Oh, no, I am going to be a boy scout, for the fifth year in a row.  In the past, I have been various versions of the tykes in uniforms.  I have been a boy scout run over by a car, a boy scout that has been stabbed in the back, a boy scout/hooker, a white trash boy scout, and this year I am leaning towards a boy scout without a drinking problem.

NEW ORLEANS | I use the word stupid to describe things that just don’t seem to fit into this world. These are the things that are unexplainable, or don’t seem to have any rhyme or reason and are too unimportant to really be a mystery, but at the same time, are so annoying that you really need that not so mysterious mystery solved.

There are three things I look for in a person. These three things define whether or not that person is worth my energy or time getting to know. The first thing is a having a genuine desire to be kind, the second is intelligence and the third is dedication to themselves and the things and people they love and care about. These three things are the reasons that I adore Bff Dore, overlook the bad habits of Bff Black Out Drunk Debbie, will always beg for forgiveness from Bff Twester (even when I am right), and no matter how long it has been since I have seen Bff Ginger Cherry, she still feels like family.

I love taking pictures of my nieces and nephews. My goal is to make sure they have a running record of any change that happened to them through their years while growing up. What I love more than taking pictures of them is taking pictures of me. I know exactly how to pose to make my face look thin, my jaw line pop and my eyes and forehead look like those of a twenty year old. Of course it has taken time to be able to strike the perfect pose at the raise of a camera. It has taken years and years of staring at me in the rear view mirror while driving has given me an edge over the average backdrop.

As a kid, I used to love when my family would get together for fish frys.  My dad and his brothers would spend the day catching the fish and that night, my mom and my aunts would clean and fry the fish.  It was a huge family affair, and as I see it now, no one was spared.

Recently I had memories of those nights come flooding back when I visited Gattuso’s Restaurant in Gretna.  Located in the center of town at 435 Huey P. Long Avenue, Gattuso’s offers a true down home menu consisting of burgers, wraps, spaghetti and meatballs, eggplant parm, and baby back ribs for lunch and dinner.  The sloppy roast beef po-boy is the local’s favorite, along with Gattuso’s Amber Draft.

Bff Gay Ben has been known to say there is a little fairy in all of us, this coming from a man that paints his toenails seasonally, sprinkles glitter into his full beard and wears a set of old broken wings for his birthday every year.  I myself am not so convinced that there is a fairy in all of us.  For instance, there is no fairy in me.  I have seen myself in tights and wings and there is no way a fairy lives anywhere near that train wreck. In addition, I have been very open about my dislike of birds and feathers, so now you may add wings. Things with wings creep this fairy out!