Wednesday, August 27, 2008

My Evacuation Route? My Buddy.

I've been sitting on this one like a Christmas present -- precious communique with my new best friend The Cocktail Chef (it's trademarked beeotches, so don't even think about it).

But Lil' Reggie turned 9 yesterday, almost three years to the day that we prematurely deflated the bounce house during his 6th birthday party to board up the windows.

And I'm not doing so well with the experts' instructions for adults here. It's not uncommon for the Chef to experience gastric distress the day after two $2 pitchers of Abita Amber and a Reginelli's pizza, but something wasn't right this morning.

Berto made me feel a little better this morning, and now that I have a evacuation route other than the usual Dallas-Fort Worth trip, I'm slightly calm. So here it is:

1. Thursday night: Chicken of the Sea with extra importance.
2. Friday morning: Reservations with My Buddy. I think he'll put me and the family up for a few days -- after all, we're tight now. He even said so in a recent comment:

"Thanks Chef. I really appreciate how you've handled this situation and as far as I'm concerned... CHEF WHO DAT is all good with me. I am going to try to make it in December but if I don't, thank you for the olive branch. YOU ROCK!! -- Thanks again. Your friend... The Cocktail Chef --"

Here's to you The Cocktail Chef and your sold-out mixology seminars:


Mr. Clio said...

Wait. Isn't "My Buddy" also the coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers?

Mr. Clio said...

P.S. Be careful about listening to Berto. He's a bit shaky right now. Never had kids before when dealing with this.

Once he gets a nice bike ride tomorrow night, he'll be okay.

Remember, we in south Louisiana are all Indiana Jones now. We can handle it.

Bielzabub said...

Chef, relax Gustavo is no more a threat to you than Bluto was. But if you feel the need to leave the Devil and his minions will be at the Beach Club (Pacificos iced down). Come on down will shove the kids on the floor an enjoy the surf.

Michelle said...

All Who Dats would be welcome here, but we may be trekking up to my sister's in Dallas. Ooh . .. I smell a Who Dat party somewhere crowded to piss off some Dallas fans.