Friday, February 15, 2008

Note to the Times Pick-Yer-Nose: If you were gonna backpedal like panicked bikers at a collapsing bridge, why'd you publish that picture of the Walking Id and his Cheshire Cat-faced police chief in the first place? You're missing a prime opportunity to connect some dots like E so ably does (on a regular basis! Forget being Da Mayor, man, and go for President!) and start asking some hard-hitting questions that get to the nitty-gritty of why the hell these guys are still here if this city is still struggling under their trigger-happy feet. They need to shape up or ship out. We can use the mouth of the Mississippi for other activities besides the shipping of goods, you know...

I'm in recovery right now from a heck of a Valentine's dinner over at this place, which recently relocated to Magazine Street. I highly recommend it - I had some great redfish over there and a pecan torte with a cafe au lait ice cream that was out of this world. The meal was nearly over shadowed by a certain painting in the dining room, which shows up in the background of a photo (wait for the one with flowers and wineglasses) on the Vizard's website. I'll let Poppy Z. Brite describe it:
The food was mostly quite good, though the atmosphere and service left something to be desired. We were seated directly across from the single most retarded piece of artwork I've ever seen in a dining room: a big, colorful, not terribly well-executed painting of eight Uptown-looking women seated at a restaurant table, all dressed to the nines but baring their breasts for the artist, all with real, three-dimensional Mardi Gras masks glued to their faces. We couldn't stop snickering at it throughout the meal, which I'm sure speaks volumes about our maturity or lack thereof.
Yep, it's a pretty freaky painting, one that other diners in the vicinity couldn't stop sneaking looks at and talking about, which pretty much puts us all in the category of highly immature creatures. The conclusion most of the women I talked with came to is that the breasts on the women in the painting were simply the fake plastic ones people will don for Mardi Gras sometimes. The men were just staring and smiling - one man nearby said it was a portrait of a ladies lunch that proved to be too risque for the ladies pictured, so the masks were plastered onto their faces on the canvas.

The viewing of this picture happens to coincide with some reading I'm doing about breasts, and the following bit in the introduction could have been written for Dan, me, and our fellow diners last night, not just straight men:
...among the straight men I know there is not one, no matter how polished, tweedy, intellectual, fusty, or geriatric, who doesn't go instantly stupid when I divulge the subject of my book. I may slip into high-minded mode with clinical phrases like "breast obsession" or "breast fetishism." I may share my interest in breast evolution or breast fixation across cultures. The men listen patiently, and then ask: Will there be pictures?
Ms Seligson, next time you get that question, send those men (and women) to Vizard's on Magazine, and get yourself a new afterword for your book. The reactions to that picture could make for some great writing. Or, at the very least, a good laugh.

Oh, and damned if I missed this great video. Gawd bless dat wacky Cajun Boy.
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Update, 3:26 PM: Hey, why am I giddy 'cause it's rainin' out? Maybe 'cause it'll be raining on the NBA's Jackson Square par-tay. What goes around, comes around. And next time, fellas, don't go choosing your locales for bashes based on whether or not they showed up in K-Ville. Rent out an Algiers ferry, like the one in Deja Vu. The possibility that it might be blown to bits on the river is simply part of the fun!

One Mo' Time, 4:46 PM: Sheckrastos pointed out in the comments that I did an inconsiderate loser bit with my Jackson Square comment and failed to take into account the fate of the retailers on the Square such as himself. Mea, mea culpa, sir! I guess I will need to buy out your store now to make up for the gaffe. Let's all pray that the skies part over the Square this weekend.

11 comments:

jeffrey said...

Just so you know, I clicked on that Poppy Brite link specifically because I hoped there might be pictures.

Anonymous said...

Uh, Leigh, rain is bad for the merchants who'll be there like me.

Anonymous said...

One more thing: the party is being held for people who volunteered to do community work here today.

Leigh C. said...

Oops! Sorry. Thoroughly insensitive comment alert! Whip me, beat me, call me Edna.

Leigh C. said...

Yep, you just confirmed it, Jeffrey - any mention of breasts induces instant brain freeze - myself included, if you ask Shecky. 8-)

jeffrey said...

A, I thought they were shutting you guys down for this.

Leigh C. said...

He told me about it a while back. They were letting the Pontalba retailers stay open. I guess if you officially pay rent and work/live there, they can't do much other than alert NBA security...

saintseester said...

Someone needs to go take a photo of that breast painting...

Anonymous said...

I have the hardest time staying on your blog! Last night, I wandered over and ended up in Vizard restaurant land, failing to return. When I was there over New Year's my hosts were talking about how amazing the place in the the GD Hotel was. The new spot is on my next trip list!

Don't get me started on boobs.

Thanks for the vid. It was wonderful. I sent the Complicated Life one to many folks and this one is on it's way out the virtual door to my emailers as we speak. :)

Sounds like you had a great VDay. :)

Anonymous said...

I "axed" what you answered on my entry today. Forewarning: Please don't be offended, and I don't think you are a dumbass. I love reading your blog as it keeps me in touch with home state.

The long, long road home,New Orleans said...

at least your dinner came with entertainment