Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Doctor Shoeshine and the Arm Smeller

Two times ago when I was in New Orleans, Vickie and I went to a place called Deanie’s. They’re the ones who serve a bowl of spicy new potatoes as an appetizer. This time Donna and I went back to Deanie’s. It wasn’t too hot.

First, I asked the grumpy old waitress (who Donna said looked like a Bertha) if there was a dinner equivalent of some chicken pasta thing they offered on the lunch menu. Bertha told me no. I asked if there was anything with chicken I could have. She offered me a salad with chicken. I asked if there was anything on the dinner menu with pasta. Bertha said there is some sort of a shrimp and pasta situation. I asked if I could either get the salad with chicken substitute pasta for salad or the shrimp pasta thing substitute chicken for shrimp. She said no. I think it’s crazy that all of the ingredients to make what I wanted were available, yet they were unwilling to combine them as I pleased. So I ordered a steak medium well. It came out raw. I sent it back. It came back tough.

This Deanie’s is a weird place. It looks like places where I used to go to dinner as a baby. Very seventies. From the time she took our order until the time the food came out, Bertha pretty much just sat there at another table doing nothing. Meanwhile – and this was my favorite part of tonight at Deanie’s - there was a bearded waiter who looked almost exactly like Popeye’s Bluto (or is it Brutus? Are they the same guy?). Blutus didn’t do much except walk around the restaurant smelling his arms real hard. He just kept smelling and smelling his arms. What would cause anybody to do that? I don’t even think he had any tables. Some restaurants have people who will come around and serenade you. Deanie’s has a guy who walks around smelling his own arms.

When I was a little kid, there was another little kid down the street called Robbie Tylicki. Robbie Tylicki had a bad habit. Actually he had two bad habits. First, he didn’t know the word ‘I’. Instead he said “me”.
“Me is going to go home now.”
“Why are you going home Robbie Tylicki?”
“Because me wants to.”
His second bad habit was that he sucked the heck out of his arms. He’d suck them until they bruised.

You may be thinking, “Gee, it seems a little mean of you to make fun of Robbie Tylicki.” Well, let me tell you that Robbie Tylicki was a little creep! I would always go over to Robbie’s house to ask if he wanted to play, and he’d literally slam the door in my face. My Dad is about as peaceful a man as you’d ever meet. He’s Popish. But he hated the Tylickis. Once when Robbie Tylicki slammed the door in my face, my Dad suggested that I go over there and swipe his big wheel. I asked him where I could put it. My Dad said we could hide it in our garage. So we did.

We’re staying at the Renaissance hotel in downtown New Orleans. We are literally a stone’s throw away from Sodom and, I think, just a couple of blocks from Gomorrah. If I wanted to see “World Famous Live Love Acts” (whatever they are!) all I’d have to do is step outside and walk about the length of a football field. This is a really great hotel, but I’m certain I’m going to catch some pants-related disease just from breathing the air.

I just don’t get peoples’ fascination with the French Quarter. If you haven’t been there, it’s true that lots of it smells like throw up. There are a ton of interesting things here in New Orleans without subjecting yourself to that French Quarter. For example, I saw a copper door today with Ben Franklin’s and other American heroes’ heads carved in it.

I love Ben Franklin! Did I ever tell you about the time when, as a small boy, he got in Boston Harbor with his kite? The wind pulled him and his kite right across the harbor! What a great idea! I wish I wasn’t afraid of water. I’d re-create floating across some water or other with my kite. Thanks a lot Assistant Den Leader Walt McElroy for trying to drown me as a Cub Scout. You are responsible for how I’ve turned out!

Speaking of throw up, did you know that Jelly Bellys are available in the flavors of vomit, dirt, grass, and anchovy? I’m not sure if I think that’s funny or just kind of gross.

We went to the House of Blues for dinner last night. That was a pretty good place. King Diamond is playing there May 20. Heavy metal’s Tesla played there last week. Also, Dallas’ own Reverend Horton Heat and Bowling For Soup are playing there in the next month or so.

Reverend Horton Heat has been around for a long long time. Back in the day, I had a Reverend Horton Heat t-shirt. On it was a picture of the fat version of Elvis. Under Elvis' picture was a list of all the planets and what Elvis would've weighed on each. That's one of my all time favorite t-shirts.

On the way back to the hotel, we met a guy called Daniel (the self-proclaimed Dr. Shoeshine). Daniel sits on Decatur near Canal every night with his shoe polishing equipment. I asked Daniel how much for a shoeshine. He said, “Not much.” So I hired the Doctor to polish my shoes. He did a really fine job. When he finished he informed me that he typically gets $20 plus a “bonus tip”. I ended up paying that character $30 to shine my shoes. Doctor Shoeshine bills out at about $180 per hour. What a racket! Or maybe I’m the only sucker in town. Anyway, I liked him and don’t feel bad about getting ripped off. I hope you’ll let him shine your shoes sometimes.

Denton has a good jazz radio station (FM 88.1). The problem is that it has a weak signal and can't be heard very well from most parts of Dallas. New Orleans has a great jazz station (FM 90.7). Would it be too much to ask for Dallas to get rid of KPLX or Young Country or The freaking Wolf or one of the other All Kenny Chesney All The Time radio stations and replace it with a good jazz station? I haven't even felt the need to turn on the TV tonight because I'm enjoying the radio so much.

I guess that’s just about it for now. So long.

12 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Just a quick comment regarding the arm smeller. "He just kept smelling and smelling his arms. What would cause anybody to do that?"

As I recall, a certain Mister Larry Feathers spent several days constantly smelling himself after an accidental skunkage. Maybe the arm smeller had been skunked!

8:53 AM  
Blogger Tara said...

The whole Tylicki family had problems. You should blog about Bob. What that Robbie neede was a good speech therapist. Poor kid never learned to say his 'r'.

The best thing at House of Blues-New Orleans is the sauce that comes with the Voodoo Shrimp appetizer.

Sometimes that Denton station plays bad fusion-y jazz. It is like noise. But most of the time it is good. May I recommend to you some Dave Brubeck. You would probably like him a lot. Also, you should go see some jazz in New Orleans while you are there. Most of the jazz clubs do not smell like throw-up.

11:41 AM  
Blogger Larry Feathers said...

Dear anonymous,

You're right! I'm guilty of smelling my own arms. I almost forgot about that. The thing is that I am not a waiter. If I were a waiter back when the skunking happened I would've either had to find a new job or stop smelling myself long enough to work.

Here is a law: "It is grosser to smell yourself when you work in the food service industry than it is to smell yourself as an auditor."

Thanks for reminding me about smelling myself!

7:51 PM  
Blogger Larry Feathers said...

tara,

Some time I will write about Bob and Lois Tylicki.

I won't eat shrimp because of the pus that comes out of their heads when you decapitate them. It's a thick grey emission.

At the hotel where we're staying, each floor is dedicated to a legend of jazz. I'm staying on the Dave Brubeck floor. He was born in 1920 and has a very fancy head of hair.

7:55 PM  
Blogger 'Thought & Humor' said...

You have a riveting web log and undoubtedly
must have atypical & quiescent potential for
your intended readership. May I suggest that
you do everything in your power to honor
your Designer/Architect as well as your audience.
Please remember to never restrict anyone's
opportunities for ascertaining uninterrupted
existence for their quintessence.

There is a time for everything, a season for every
activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time
to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time
to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and
a time to rebuild. A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to
scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time
to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose. A time to keep and
a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time
to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak
up. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for
war and a time for peace.

Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Howdy
Editor

'Thought & Humor'
Cyber-Humor & Cyber-Thought
http://ilovehowdy.blogspot.com/
Harvard Humor Club
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Harvard_Humor_Club/

8:00 PM  
Anonymous SS said...

Dear Thought & Humor,

What the hell does that mean?

Love,
Scuba Steve

6:13 PM  
Blogger Larry Feathers said...

Thanks. But what do most of your words mean? What is quiescent?

I think most of my intended readership is feeling drowsy after all that.

But thanks anyway. A lot of that stuff from your second paragraph sounds familiar. Did you copy it from somebody?

What is quintessence? You've made me feel very confused inside, but I appreciate what you wrote because I think it might have been nice. Was it?

9:05 PM  
Blogger john clarke said...

I'm fascinated by stories from Garland and a certain Tylicki family.

Whatever happened to the heisted big wheel? Was it ever used? Was it returned to the Tylicki's. Or it remain forgotten in the garage until the Tylicki's moved? Is it still in the garage?

11:14 AM  
Blogger tschy said...

Something tells me that Mr. Feathers and Robbie Tylicki must be next door neighbors and best of friends. I see Mr. Feathers about once every 3 years and without exception, the name Robbie Tylicki finds its way into the conversation within minutes. I don’t know how many Robbie Tylicki’s there could be in the world, but I hope he hasn’t gone crazy and become a serial killer. Google his name and you find the top response a certain Mr. Larry Feather’s blog. Good think your true identity is cleverly disguised! And upon further research, it looks like Robert works, or worked at GCAmerica (www.gcamerica.com). I don’t know much about this company – but the make something called an Encapsulated Glass Ionomer. Sounds cool.

1:04 PM  
Anonymous bigD said...

blog more mblogs

1:01 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

Where are you Larry Feathers???

5:09 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

He completely trashed it, exiting profanity and the right after doddle Anthony Richard Clarke Concluding, it is better in cutting down your current unnecessary charges rather than borrowing funds to finance your splendid luxuries

11:29 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home