I cannot think of anything specific to talk about today, and, I so enjoyed yesterday that I am just going to describe the events of today as they unfold. Why not? Do you have anything better to read about than a day in Mid-City New Orleans?
I went to a ladies’ undergarment store on Magazine Street this morning. I did not go for myself. I squired Mrs. King there. Unlike J. Edgar Hoover, I do not indulge in the pleasures of lingerie.
The store is called Basics. I am allergic to just about everything in there. Though I enjoy nothing more than the company of women, this shop contains too much estrogen for my tastes. There is only so long that I can look at brassieres without being bored.
All cats are gray in the dark.
Nothing else in the shop captured my attention, not even the women, who were graciously trying to make me feel at home with champagne and bon-bons. I waited outside. It did not take Mrs. King long to take care of her feminine business.
She is supposed to meet me for lunch later. It will be nice to see her. The Masseuse is also due to show up. It is not Wednesday, but she will be out of town tomorrow. Happiness loves company.
We are all meeting up at the place where the soup can be anything. The soup is thickened with flour. It essentially tastes like flour. I do not mean roux. I mean raw white flour.
The soup could be crab and corn bisque or it could be cream of artichoke. Nobody can tell the difference, even the people who made it. That is why they write it on masking tape on the side of the crock pot.
Potato starch is what makes Campbell’s Chunky Clam Chowder so creamy. It is more neutral in flavor than wheat flour. This place could learn from the expertise of the Cambell’s Soup Company when it comes to cutting corners.
Campbell’s stock price did very well during the pandemic. It has since settled down.
No one ever lost money by taking a profit. Words to live by.
I have it from a reliable source that the worst customers are the ones who visit an establishment based on Guy Fieri’s recommendation on his hit television show, Diners, Drive-ins & Dives. I have only watched it in my peripheral vision, overhead, across the room, with the sound off. I do not watch television. Why would I? I live in New Orleans.
I do not need to watch anything on TV. I am already here, living a life of high drama in a glamorous location.
Someone just asked me to sign their pizza box.
Temperatures are dropping. Most people are wearing beanies. I am wearing my yellow beret, the kind you can buy at Quaker Marine Supply.
Nowadays, from what I can gather, the kids today are calling knit skull caps beanies. I would call it a watch cap, but I was in the United States Navy, where that is what a government issued knit cap to be worn in cold weather is called. It is officially called Government Issued Item, Naval Class, Stock Number 447-2-N-76, Navy Blue. It is the kind of hat longshoremen wear for a reason. It keeps the head warm.
In New England, and in Canada, from what I have heard, people call hats like this skullies. “Today is a day fit for a skully,” you will hear people say where I come from, especially in winter.
Growing up, when somebody said that somebody was wearing a beanie, it meant a parti-colored skullcap with a propeller on top. It may as well still mean that, hereabouts, sans propeller.
The world is full of lovable doofuses. The world is full of highlights that include both Goofuses and Gallants. Which are you?
When was the last time you visited a dentist?
Boggington does an imitation of these Guy Fieri fans that is amusing. To her, they all sound like they come from Dogpatch.
I never enjoyed reading L’il Abner. I do not enjoy reading dialect. Do you? I do not mind listening to dialect, we are all a product of our surroundings, but, when I read words, I like the English to make sense. Regular readers who are following the plot thus far know that making sense is very important to me.
Listening, I am accustomed to mondegreens.
Let us put up the paywall before we continue, shall we? I have something very important to tell you.