A sad, greasy ostrich

I've been without my female concubine ostrich for four whole days, and I feel lonely.

This is not an ostrich emotion. I've been hanging out with people like J.R. Ewing for way too long. Worse than that, I've been listening to Supertramp's greatest hits. TALK ABOUT DEPRESSING! They keep telling me to take the long way home.

The other day, Elizabeth Robicheaux told me she was heading to Mexico for a couple of days. As luck dictates, I, myself, will be burying my head in the sand in San Diego, California, very close to Mexico, indeed.

Do you think she'll meet me for a Mimosa?

Chickens are so stupid

CHICKEN AND DUMPLING SOUP

• 10 chicken thighs, boneless
• 4 quarts water
• 1 medium onion
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 tbsp salt
• 1 tsp black pepper
• 1 tbsp garlic powder
• 2 red bell peppers
• 1/2 large package baby carrots
• 8 chicken bouillon cubes
• 2 tubes oven-ready buttermilk biscuits

Combine first 7 ingredients in a large pot. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and cover for 1 hour. Add chopped peppers and whole baby carrots. Bring back to a boil and reduce heat and simmer for another hour. Chicken should be shredded at this point. Add bouillon cubes and allow to incorporate. Taste stock and add more bouillon to taste. When stock is ready, take unprepared biscuits and dice them by hand, dropping them into the boiling stock, careful not to let newly incorporated dumplings touch. Add ¼ of the biscuits, stir and repeat until all the biscuits are used. Cover and stir thoroughly every five minutes for thirty minutes. Serve with grilled cheese sandwiches.

(grilled cheese should always be cut into triangles)

Tuna. The Freshmaker

OK. Hi. Hello. Howdy.

Archibald loves the summer about as much as he loves candied apples, which is to say, not very much.

It is very hot outside.

Hello? Anybody there? I said it is very hot outside.

(how hot is it?)

It is so hot, that I can't make a joke about it. It's that damn hot.

(head buried)

Vacationing

Sorry for the delay in my posts, but I've been a busy Ostrich, having taken my yearly pilgramage to Southfork. Unfortunately for me, flying isn't an option. I had to run there and back!

JR Ewing wasn't there (again!) but I did find out that my good friends George Lucas and Natalie Portman are moving there in May. I might have a nest to crash on my next visit.

Upon my return to the Big Nasty, I met up with a young woman by the name of Elizabeth Robicheaux. She was in town for a wedding, but she met me at the Inferior Grill (where she has been in the bathroom reading a newspaper for the past five years). When it was time for her to go to the rehersal dinner, I put her in a cab and gave her a care package, which was actually a large top-shelf margarita. Reports from the dinner say that she was already repeating herself upon arrival. That Liz!

Unfortunately, Sunshine and her Burly Soldier didn't come across my path, but that was because they were probably too busy crying at the beautiful ceremony. Tears are bigger than fears. Not to be confused with Tears for Fears. Or deBeers, although, considering it was a wedding, is somewhat apropos.

Nope, with no visit from Sunshine, Big Nelly and I curled up on the sofa and watched a Saved By the Bell marathon all night. ON A SATURDAY.

Needless to say, I am disappointed with Sunshine and her matrimonail tear fest. But, well, you know women and weddings.

Redrum

Okay, it's been a rough week for a certain flightless bird you might know. Rough week, indeed.

First, I was accosted in the middle of Old Metairie by a Rhino and his pet Hummingbird. They claimed that I had sold them a bitter tasting fruitcake. Well duh! What other kind is there? Anyway, it was a very good fruitcake, and they had no grievance, other than their own sense of taste.

The only real problem is that the Rhino is also my tax accountant. Seems I'll be looking for a new one of those soon.

The female concubine ostrich has spent a good deal of time crying. So I recommended she go shopping, and A-SHOPPING SHE IS DOING! At this moment, she is in the suburbs buying herself a new car, a Jeep Liberty, if the current rumors are legitimate. Really, I just thought she would go and shop for shoes, but, well, women, etc.

It's time for me to go off and have a toddy. I think I'll go to the Inferior Grill and have a Mimosa. I hope Liz isn't still in the bathroom. That newspaper has probably gotten really old by now.

Oy! is for Ostrich

Well ladies and germs, I have a bit of a quandary. It seems that I misplaced my memory sometime around noon on Friday. I found it again sometime Sunday, but it hadn't been used all weekend.

The fiddler told me something about getting in a fight with a girl named Vivian after the LSU game on Saturday, but that has yet to be confirmed.

If anybody had any Archibald sightings this past weekend, please post and fill in the blanks.

Piccadilly!

Well, everyone, this ostrich was in a car today with my female concubine ostrich, and lo and behold, the Piccadilly on Jefferson Hwy is now OPEN!!!

So, what does a male ostrich eat you might ask:

chicken fried chicken with jalapeno gravy (those chickens are so dumb)
macaroni and cheese
mashed potatoes and gravy
green beans (got to get some veggies)
jalapeno corn bread

No dessert. This can make an ostrich tired, which means no ostrich love with the concubine.

Our waitress' name was Pam. She had a slight moustache, but I'm sure that's just because her hair removal clinic has yet to open. Poor Pam.

Tonight, with a Special Guest Host

In about ten minutes, I am off to celebrate an old friend's birthday, Rob Peneguy. He is one of the first people who discovered the genius that is Red Velveeta, and certainly, Archibald is one to appreciate those who appreciate genius.

It's a celebration, but I'm not sure that there is much to celebrate in birthdays at this age. Early onset Alzheimers, stage 6 pancreatic ulcers, adult diapers, you get the picture. I guess the only good thing for him is that somebody will be buying the drinks, and that somebody is an ostrich.

Also in the news, Sunshine will be coming to New Orleans one month from tomorrow to attend a wedding. Her Burly Soldier will be in this fair city as well. This makes my eyes water with birdly delight.

Another rumor has it that Lush Muffin may be making a cameo appearance in NOLA. Only time will tell.

Finally, I want to thank the country of Honduras for sending me the proper labor to put a new roof on my roost here in war torn New Orleans. A bird's got to have a place to make mimosas during a rainstorm without fear of an imminent ceiling collapse.

Scary Evening with the Fiddler

Last night, I met the Fiddler and the Hamsterfish at the Bulldog to watch the LSU game and have some drinks. LSU won. Yay!

I wasn't aware that the Hamsterfish was having problems with one of his fins, so when I grabbed it and he howled in pain, a high, shrill scream that only a Hamsterfish could make, I felt bad. There was no sand around, so I had to improvise, and buried my head in a bottle of Miller Lite.

Fiddler and I went to Harrah's. I won and the Fiddler lost, as usual. We were ordering shots of Jagermeister at the blackjack table. Yes, Jagermeister.

There was more, but I'm not sure I remember. Except for the part when I wake up at noon, at home (thankfully), still in my shoes from the night before. It hurts to even think about how I felt.

Again, with the female gender

But this time, in the color green. Yes, yes, yesterday was St. Patrick's day, and so the Fiddler, the Hamsterfish and I, along with our old pal Ian, decided to visit Parasol's for the festivities. Well, may I say that these Irish people are a whacked group indeed! But they do love to drink, so I've got to give them that.

We drove there in the Fiddler's new Range Rover. Quite a machine!

Torso. Mucho Torso. Me like.

The Hamsterfish was in a bit of a bind. Seems that the only two women he has dated in the last 9 months were there, about three feet from one another. Even after we went to the Bulldog, the same thing happened.

One of them was named Joyce, and somebody had vomited on the side of her face. Her silly friend Amanda had a similar affliciton. Nobody seemed to mind, though, which was weird. They kept referring to it as face paint, but I knew better.

Later in the evening, I met another woman named Amanda (seems I have a problem meeting women with this name.) I was so taken by her beauty that I offered to immediately fly the two of to Aruba where we would frolick, drink mimosas and "don't bother knockin' if the hotel room's a' rockin'" but alas, she left me for a quiet evening at home. Such is the life of an Ostrich in the big city these days.

Yet more troubles with the females

It seems that my lack of clothing and being covered only by a layer of feathers leaves a good bit of women in my life slightly unhinged. I attempt to rattle them by asking if they're "naked under their clothes," but apparently, this is not enough.

Have they any decency, this gender? What, what, I ask you, is the real issue here? Is it that they're all tied to some kind of Mormon decency code? Or is it that they too wish they could just walk through the streets covered in nothing but feathers?

LSU won tonight. Geaux Tigers.

Anyway. Today's menu consisted of a queso fondito with chirizo and a plate of carnitas. Being an ostrich, I found them both tantalizing. No ostrich meat used in either dish. Pig meat. Ohhh... yummy.

The trouble with the female ostrich

Well, I think I've officially had it. Today, I went to lunch with my female concubine ostrich and, of course, she was oblivious. Yes, ostrich and humans, today is the ides of march.

So we're there and, of course, being a gentle ostrich, I allow her to order first. So what does she do? Nope, she ignores the fact that it's March 15th and orders the soup.

SOUP!?!?!?! I ask, actually holding my tongue (if I have one) to a degree. She gives me this blank stare, so I sigh, turn to the waitress and do the proper thing on the ides of march. I order the Ceasar Salad.

Beware the female of the species. They're always concentrating on the unimportant.

2006. Archibald Style!

Welcome to 2006. Katrina gone bye-bye. My brain gone bye-bye.

It's a blog. What do you want?