Sorry Halloween, maybe next year.
It has been raining for days. So much rain. This entire city is soggy like the tuna sandwich that I choked down from the student center for what can be best described as dinner. Yeah, I’ll go with dinner – just a quick stop between dance practice and going to the library to write. It was a hard decision because if I go home I’m definitely not coming back. But considering how annoying it is to just hemorrhage money on dumb shit I am trying to be better. The tuna seemed like the best value – calories/protein/general nutrition/price.
After the disappointing (to put it mildly) tuna sandwich that may or may not kill me, I made two separate rounds wondering what I could get that would erase the terrible thing that is wet bread from my taste buds. I started checking the calories on peanut M&Ms versus Raisinetes. Raisins were winning but they only had milk chocolate and I prefer dark. Otherwise I’d have probably gone for the candy since I haven’t had any Halloween candy at all. Instead I went for some fries. (You can laugh. Obviously I should have just gotten the fucking M&Ms.) The fries were not very good either. Fortunately, ketchup packets are pretty consistent so a healthy dose of corn syrup and salt made me feel a little better. Because you know, when things are good: french fries. When things suck: french fries. (And then when things REALLY suck you just get really skinny and/or eat ice cream.)
Since arguably everything sucks even more than my last post, I’ve got a throwback bananas while I attempt to digest whatever is doing somersaults in my stomach while flipping between listening to Adele’s “Hello” and the Bieb’s “Sorry.”
Sorry not sorry.
If you’ve read my blog before you won’t be shocked to hear that a few years ago I was lounging around pretty drunk with some girl friends of mine. And, like you might imagine happens to drunk people, the best idea ever is to order some french fries. Better than that – CHEESE FRIES. Oh yes, I love a mission like that. The thing about New Orleans is that delivery is really limited. There are arguments for why and if that is good or bad so I’ll just leave it as a fact. Delivery = Limited.
It is late night and so I called a bar that I knew to both be still serving food and have cheese fries and sandwiches and called to place an order.
The call went something like this:
Me: “Hello? Can you hear me?”
(Just kidding, starting over)
Me: “I’d like to place an order for delivery”
Them: “What is your address?”
Then they tell me that they don’t deliver to my house. This is weird to me because I swore that they did. But, whatever, its really late at night and GIVE ME THE FRENCH FRIES, I’ll take a cab.
Then I go with my order. Something like “meatball sandwich with fries, can you add cheese to the fries?” and then go on with the other two orders. Probably a Caesar salad too b/c drunk me (and sober me) loves the crunchy refreshing Caesar.
Them: “So you want an order of cheese fries?” And I say, “Yeah. Add cheese to my fries with the sandwich..” (WHY IS THIS SO HARD??!!!) And then “I say that all three of us want to add cheese to our fries.” (Again). Ugh also I am concerned that this girl just totally hates me for being drunk and trying to order some cheese fries for my friends and I. (But is that SO wrong!!?)
I got off the phone and call the cab company. I suspect she must have given me a total because that is pretty standard, but I am pretty sure she just hung up on me so I’ve got no number in my mind for what the bill is.
Whatever, cab is en route and when he arrives, I ask him to please take me to Balcony Bar on Magazine Street. So we get there and he leaves the meter running while I run in to pick up the food. Except when I get there they have no idea what I’m talking about and have no food even resembling that order, let alone for an “Andrea.”
The cab meter is still running.
And then I looked at my phone. Sigh. I called the Half Moon. Different bar. So cab (now very expensive) takes me to that bar. THE BAG OF FOOD IS HUGE. And probably weighs 40 lbs. No joke. And it was something to the tune of $75. And then the cab driver took me home. We’d been spending a lot of time together.
I walk in with my arms full of this huge brown bag and my friend demands to know a) where have I been and b) why is that bag so huge?
Welllp, it was so heavy because somehow we ended up with an insane french fry order. Because everything there is a la carte so no sandwiches came with fries. (Not sure how many times I wanted cheese fries, but you get the idea.) Also they were the steak kind so by the time I’d gotten home and taken out box after box of french fries that were basically steamed and soggy.
One of my friends was passed out but it was satisfying that the other rolled on the floor with me and laughed about how long I’d been gone and why (HOW!?) did we order so many fries??! Also, $$$. Damn, girl.