So this weekend we had a nice getaway to lovely New Orleans, Louisiana. We stayed with our friends Amanda and Luke in Algiers. It was a girly trip, just Lindsey and me, since my sister is trying to starve herself and consequently Jason had to stay home with Reed. But more on that another time.
We drove down Friday evening and let me tell you, Mississippi, YOUR SIGNS ARE A LIE. It never fails that I start getting low on gas somewhere between Meridian and the Louisiana state line. There is not much in that area, but there are a few exits with signs stating that there are gas stations off the exits. LIE. We had to get off of three different exits before we stumbled upon the Circle D where we got gas, ice, and SCARED.
We made it in around 9:30 and hung around their apartment for a while, then went out to the Quarter via the ferry.
Saturday we took the ferry in again and had lunch at Felipe's (yum) and then walked around the quarter for a while. We found Ignatius' statue and took some pictures and then headed back home for a nap and some cool-down time because IT WAS HOT THERE.
That evening we walked over to the Dry Dock Cafe for a burger and then to the Crown and Anchor for a couple of beers before we headed back home to film a new Drunk Psychology.
Sunday we went to the Clover Grill in the Quarter for breakfast. We ate omelettes and biscuits and gravy and saw Laurence Fishburne*. Yep. And guess what? I didn't have my camera. CLEARLY I learned nothing in Costa Rica. I had carried the camera around all weekend long, and when we went to eat I thought, we're just going to eat, I don't need the camera. Then I saw Laurence Fishburne. And let me tell you, HE LOOKED GOOD, and apparently he smelled good too from what Lindsey could tell after nearly elbowing him in the junk as he walked past our table. He and I made eye contact a couple of times, and I'm pretty sure we had a moment. Well, I had a moment of "HOLY FUCK HI LAURENCE" and he had a moment of "Is that girl having a seizure? Why won't she stop staring?"
Let me tell you, if you want to meet famous people and have a nice conversation with them I am not the person to spend time with. I am the girl who sees Cowboy Curtis and doesn't have a camera and furthermore doesn't want to interrupt his meal or stop him on his way out to say "OH MY GOSH I REALLY LIKED THE MATRIX, WELL THE FIRST ONE ANYWAY I NEVER SAW THOSE OTHER ONES CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?"
*Laurence Fishburne, if you're googling yourself and somehow stumble upon this blog, I am the girl in the purple shirt who was sitting with the girl in the black shirt and the girl in the green shirt in the Clover Grill. I'm sorry we pretty much giggled and fluttered our eyelashes and ogled you throughout your meal. I'M SORRY, okay? It's just you look good and we love you and we could not help ourselves. Please send me one autograph since I'm too big of a pansy to ask you for one in person. Really you should just be thankful that we only considered the idea of asking you to sign my boob instead of actually asking you. Thank you.