Unable to put a coherent thought together yet about my move to New Orleans due to the fact that I’d forgotten just how badly apartment hunting sucks the life out of you.  Let’s put it this way,  if the devil leased houses I’d be the first in line with my soul.  It’s probably worth at least a two bedroom with hardwood floors and a walk-in closet, if he’d be willing to overlook the endless amount of times I kicked my brother in the balls when we were kids and my mother would yell “I TOLD YOU TO STOP THAT! YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE HIM IMPOTENT!!!”

That said, here are some preliminary thoughts since my gorgeous cousin so nicely hounded me to update this thing I like to call a blizog:

Driving in New Orleans so far has consisted of many wrong turns down one-way streets and playing bumper cars with all the people who think their cars fit on the narrowest bumpiest roads ever constructed.  One nice old lady desperately tried to flag me down during one of my wrong way turns as I yelled FUCK IT out the window and proceeded along my merry way.  Be damned if I was going to turn that car around and get lost AGAIN.

Men here like girls who drive big trucks.  As in, “I like your truck.  Is it your boyfriend’s? Want to get coffee?”

Food.  Yum.  Muffaletta.  Yum.  Yum.  Beer. Happy.

Watching Treasure of the Sierra Madre in my pjs with the Southerner and midway through the movie subtitles kick in, except the only words that appear on the screen, no matter what anyone is saying in Spanish, are “That is funny.”  For example, one of the Mexicans says in Spanish “I’m not a bandito.  These horses are mine.”  Translation that appears on the screen: “That is funny.”  And it was funny.

Waking up as the person I love farts on my leg in his sleep.  Now, that’s what I really moved here for :)