enjoy your delicious memories!

That was the slogan on a pizza box I took home the other day.  And while my life hasn’t featured a cartoonishly pin-headed chef shoveling pies into a brick oven lately, it’s otherwise right on target with the way that last week went.

I guess Black Magic (see the previous post) had gotten a reputation for being the local Saints bar, because as the Jets-Colts were winding down, a cameraman showed up to get some footage of us hollering in preparation.  We did ourselves proud, I think, although I didn’t get to see the result.  I do know that my ears were still ringing two full days after, so it was just like being in the Dome; I heard from friends on the scene that their seats were shaking at a couple of key points.

It’s interesting, devouring recaps and commentary after the game, because when you’re as frenzied as we were, it’s easy to lose track of the game’s flow.  You’re so focused on the one play that you forget what led up to it.  I definitely saw highlights that I couldn’t remember happening, I suppose because I screamed them right out of my head.

I think I can speak for most of my fellow Saints fans when I say that that game wore us out.  Falling behind, catching up, giving away plenty of yards before snatching the ball back.  Taking the lead and letting the Vikings pull even again.  Coming up short time and again and giving them one more shot to beat us…

It was reminiscent of the Saints’ very first playoff win (video), which I was lucky enough to have attended with my dad.  My dad is a reasonable man, perhaps the most reasonable of men, but after that game, he barked like a dog in Poydras Street at a stranger who hollered the lyrics to a Baha Men song.  Definitely a top ten moment of my life.

Just as all indications were that the Saints were going to give that Rams game away in what would have been one of the worst playoff collapses ever (they were winning 31-7 in the final quarter), it sure wasn’t looking good with two minutes left in the Vikes game either.  Personally, I’m a Mariolater from way back, so my go-to prayer has always been the Memorare, just like my mom taught me, and I was just speeding through it, frantically trying to get it out before the next snap.

Thanks to Andy for snapping this one. I'm on the phone, not clutching my cheeks, but, to be fair, am also probably squealing.

Shot this myself after dashing outside. Rather steady, considering.

That man's shirt is advertising a fried chicken joint, got it?

Things worked out, as you can probably tell.  A joyous time, although I’m sure it couldn’t compare with being on Bourbon (video).

Anyway, it’s time to look ahead to the Super Bowl.  In a flailing gesture towards the monsters and medievalism that are supposedly this blog’s raison d’etre, I turn to a picture sent me by my lovely and talented younger sister, who’s a zookeeper at New Orleans’s outstanding Audubon Zoo.  Now, New Orleans tends to be a city where the real and fantastical blend a little more than usual.  So perhaps it’s not entirely surprising that they have a Cajun werewolf (the loup-garou) on display among the otters and gators in the Louisiana Swamp exhibit.  And considering the entire city’s fanatical devotion to the Saints, it’s certainly not surprising that he’d be drafted into the cause…

Definitely the most terrifying creature ever to have teeth made of seashells.

I went to the zoo quite a lot as a kid, and the loup-garou absolutely got in my head.  You turned a corner and there he was, towering over you, a little cheesy and obviously fake, but not in a way that at all would soothe a child.  And I could never remember which corner it was.

Now, I can’t recall for sure, but I think this fellow’s an updated, more wolfish model.  I think when I was a kid, he had more of an owl head, which doesn’t make as much sense and perhaps is just my addled memory.  Nevertheless, he’s been there in some form as far back as I can remember (about 25 years, figure).  And considering all the news stories on it, you don’t need me to tell you that Peyton Manning, the Colts’ MVP quarterback, grew up in New Orleans.  So, as my friend and illustrator Ryan pointed out to me today as we tried to avoid distractions (namely, the Super Bowl impending) and plow through the next stanza of The Witch’s Spell, isn’t it likely that ol’ Peyton, who’s not all that much older than we, tiptoed around that same corner himself before looking up with the yelp of an unpleasantly surprised little boy who’s seen something that’s going to stick with him?

Let’s hope our pass rush is as intimidating on Sunday, and his feet as happy as they once were.

P.S.  We did make some progress — I was stuck on the chairs from a few posts ago still — but I’ll post on that separately.

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8 Comments

  1. Meggy said,

    February 3, 2010 at 10:08 am

    Great post, chumpers. Great post. Also, I like the idea of you clutching your cheeks in that photo. In glee.

    xoxox

    • February 3, 2010 at 11:10 am

      Thank you, ladyfriend! I actually started writing it a full week ago, but your visit distracted me enough that I didn’t finish for awhile…

  2. crispy.mice said,

    February 3, 2010 at 5:25 pm

    You are correct buddy!! The original Loup Garou was made by the kids at NOCCA and had an owl head and wolf body or something like that. About 10 years ago Richie built the lovely Loup Garou that you see today, with shells for teeth and Nutria teeth for nails!

    • February 3, 2010 at 5:33 pm

      Well there you go, straight from the source!

      • February 3, 2010 at 5:34 pm

        Out of curiosity, does anyone know what happened to the original owl-headed loup-garou?

  3. Ryan said,

    February 3, 2010 at 6:32 pm

    Hopefully it was destroyed. Completely. <>

  4. Ryan said,

    February 3, 2010 at 8:23 pm

    Has anyone else noticed the guy crying in the corner behind us?

    • February 3, 2010 at 8:34 pm

      Yeah, I’ve been wondering about him for awhile. Dunno if he’s sobbing or if all the Abita just hit him hard.


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