As for the breakfast part... I wandered downstairs on Sunday morning. "Would you like a waffle?" I naively agreed, not knowing what I was getting myself into. I chatted with Karma in the kitchen while Patrick started tossing things into a skillet-- brown sugar, cinnamon, banana liqueur, walnuts, bananas. The next thing I knew, something that appeared to be a plate of food appeared in front of me-- I'm sure about the food part, but the plate itself was completely buried in a bananas foster waffle. The bits that I managed to eat before I gave up were overwhelmingly delicious.
After his birthday party Saturday evening, my friend and I went wandering the French Quarter for a bit. I must be getting old, because I find that I have very little tolerance for drunken rowdies anymore. The Packers were in town for a football game, and the place was awash in green and yellow beads, shirts, hats, feather boas, and people who clearly weren't used to being allowed out after dark without supervision.
"Show us your tits!" wears thin pretty quickly-- you can only look at so many tanned, siliconed softballs before you get bored with the whole thing. But one girl was different-- she was a cute chubby blonde in a Packers T-shirt, maybe mid-20s, and you could see that she was both very shy and very excited to be flashing on a public street. And I will assure you that there were no artificial ingredients there. Mmmmmmm.