Mardis Gras

Mardis Gras was some ridiculous shit.

That's all I'm saying.

Mardi Gras

For those with uneasy stomachs, I advise not to read on.

Now, let me tell a tale of great debauchery.  Gaines and I went to New Orleans for the Saturday night festivities the weekend before Fat Tuesday.  In anticipation for the official day of gluttony, we decided to celebrate in the fashion of whiskey and more whiskey.

We first encountered a part of the parade in the Garden district.  Many forms of contrast ensued with child-bearing, beer-drinking parents screaming for massive amounts of useless free items most likely made by children in Malaysia.  These items included not only beads, but also novelty footballs, plungers, squirt guns, and sunglasses.

As we walked down St. Charles Avenue towards Downtown, we encountered mostly the same type of setting with less children as we got closer to Bourbon street.  

Bourbon street was everything that I expected and everything I hate about America.  Unmatched amounts of consumption of many forms: alcohol, sex, religious extremism, etc.  Nonetheless, I was entertained by Gaines and my attempts to locate a place to pee on the street.  This task was accomplished by walking around until the whiskey made us feel comfortable enough to whizz on someone's front stoop.  At one point on Bourbon street a man with a fancy camera told two young women accompanied by a young man that he was "a photographer for a website."  The girls proceeded to expose themselves to him.  Creepy as shit.  At the point where the whiskey was beginning to take hold, a random man on the street offered Gaines a FREE Wendy's Chicken Sandwich, we started saying "Carpe Diem" everywhere we went, and Gaines bought another pint of whiskey.

We proceeded to walk all the way back to my car.  On the way back, we stopped at a Popeye's Chicken Shop with a very cranky manager and terrible chicken.  We jumped the parking lot fence and fell asleep in the volvo.  Thus ending the night of debauchery.  Gaines will soon follow with a much more brief and entertaining account of our endeavors.

The Sports Shack

So we found this place of the street called 'The Sports Shack'. This is little jewel is the pride and joy of the gulf coast, or at least it should be. Just picture a rundown, unmarked shed, filled with NASCAR fans and volunteers, listening to MIA (yes, MIA), getting snide remarks from a Scottish bartender named Allison. We were regulars by our second visit, with our preferred drinks already memorized (Southern Pecan, that is). Extremely cheap beer, pretty cool people, karaoke on Fridays, all you can eat wings on Wednesdays. What more can you want?

Going to Mardi Gras in the NO this weekend. We'll see how that turns out.

I want my beard back.

That's all I'm saying. 

Haircut

Yesterday Gaines and I went to Barnes and Noble simply to get out of the Camp Gospel atmosphere for a few moments.  On the way there we stopped at a Whataburger that Gaines insisted that I try as soon as possible.  I probably would have enjoyed the experience more if it wasn't 50 degrees inside and the burger patties weren't the size of my face.  When all is said and done their fountain coke was stellar and they have nice graphics.

So we get to Barnes and Noble and there is a Cost Cutters nearby.  I wander in thinking my hair is currently way too long and I can get in without an appointment.  The receptionist tells me that I should sign up since there is only one little boy in front of me.  After I put my name down two teenagers with their mothers walk in and put their names down as well...AFTER mine.

This is where it gets juicy.

The little boy in front of me finishes getting his haircut and I'm next on the list.  As I'm thinking about what I'm gonna tell the lady about what I want her to do, one of the mothers says, "Rhonda, would you mind cuttin' Robert's hair?" in the most innocent way possible.

Rhonda goes over to the sign up sheet, SHRUGS her shoulders, and motions Robert to her chair...UNBELIEVABLE.  The next 15 mins before I was called by a different stylist were filled with rage control.  The rage control was made especially hard by Robert's "innoncent" mother talking on her cell phone.  Not only was she being unbelievably loud in a quiet atmosphere but she was talking about "lines", "having my girls worked over by you", and names like Misty and Star.  No doubt she was running a call girl service right next to me.

Despite me showing my license picture to the stylist there was a great deal of miscommunication about what I wanted, which ended in me getting my sideburns trimmed off, wasting $17, and me buzzing my head when I returned to camp.

Gaines

Gaines shaved his beard today, that's all I'm sayin.

Really though, Gaines has been quite a mess this week.  I will attribute most of his feelings of distress to my desire to listen to NPR in the morning and in the afternoon.  Unfortunately, with the state of the economy, NPR has no choice but to make all of it's listeners miserable, including Gaines.  The fact that we're graduating with a degree in architecture (the most jaded profession of all time) in four months, also, is not helping the onsite mindset.  We're making progress with morning and afternoon exercise and a perfect new dive bar around the corner things are looking up here in the Gulf Coast.  

Speaking of dive bars, a whole other post will come specifically about this phenomenon.

Finally, a post

After four weeks and a quagmire of grad school applications, I leave my first post. 

Living down here has been a pretty good time. Nice weather, little old Amish ladies cooking all of my meals, morning prayer sessions, and manual labor. Furthermore, I get to spend my days outside, either at the site or the beach. Every once in a while the religious undertones can be a little overwhelming but generally the all around positive attitude and honesty of this place is somewhat of a breath of fresh air.

We've come across some pretty interesting people as well, some good, some bad, all entertaining. From wholesome geriatrics, to drunken shrimpers, to obnoxious Lutherans, it seems that we are meeting a very random and ridiculous ggroup. Some of these people will be highlighted in posts to come. By the end of this I will have met every one from Charles City , Iowa and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. The Amish and Mennonites are some crazy entertaining folk. It'll be interesting to see how we make it through this.

That's all I'm saying

Week in, Week out

I'm gonna miss all the Amish and Mennonite people from this past week.  I only met one or two of the forty or so that were here, but the spectacle of watching them entertain themselves was a nightly treat.  Whether it be INTENSE games of ping pong or guitar-backed sing-a-longs about God, it was always a pleasure to have them around the common space after a hard day's work.

The house that Gaines and I are working on is completely done on the exterior.  All trim, siding, windows, roof, and paint has been been completed.  Today the electrical and HVAC subcontractors came in to do their work and we moved some drywall inside to get ready for next week.  It's only taken three and a half weeks to get from an open grass lot to this stage.

Last night I saw a young Mennonite, about 25 years of age, give a young Amish boy, about 18 years of age, a CIGARETTE.  It was very shady.

Expired

It seems that every single food and drink item that Gaines and I are consuming on a daily basis has been expired for at least six months.

Another realization is that though the Mennonites have a devout faith in God, they have the worst manners of any religious group that I've ever seen.

Gaines is about to finish his application to grad school and you'll be hearing from him in the near future.

A much older group surrounds us this week as the average age goes up to probably 62.

Architects Encounter the Dirty

The place that Gaines and I are living is nothing more than a combination of living at summer camp and freshman year dorms with Amish people cooking all the meals.  The mean age of most of the people we've been working with tends to be around the 65-70 range.  Don't be fooled by their age though...7 Iowan women can easily sling a 200-lb. wooden truss 10 feet into the air.  Despite the frowns that we may receive at our living quarters for our colorful language, the worksite is certainly a place of refuge.  Fucks and shits and bitches flow regularly, especially when nailing studs is involved.  Every morning starts off with a volunteer meeting and a prayer led by one of the volunteers.  Gaines and I are not looking forward to the awkward moments of me telling everyone I'm Jewish and him just out right refusing.  As we eagerly await the arrival of a boney friend, we are thinking of other ways to entertain ourselves.  Much of this entertainment is soon to come from Gaines.

Also, we got brand new tool belts that we plan on rubbing in the dirt so we can look as legit as possible.

Lastly, a joke from our construction director, Eddie:

Why are there no architects in heaven?

Because Jesus was a carpenter.