LIVEBLOGGING: K-Ville Edition

George’s critique:  Suppose to be September 1, 2005, the day the levees broke.  Okay, George is saying that the surrounding environment doesn’t show evidence that a hurricane just came through, except for the flood.  All the trees have their leaves and they are not broken.  The NOPD was not in their uniforms, but most in tactical apparel.  Also, how did they get to their cars when they were underwater. 

Where are the Sewell Cadillics that the NOPD commandeered because their units were flooded?  Besides, most police officers wouldn’t have easily driven away from the 5 th district, which is the 9th ward.  Not the safest part of town.  I am sure that cop was car jacked if not drowned.

George’s critique:  It was not as active as they show in the opening scene.  There were no school buses, remember Mayor Ray Nagin left them in the parking lots under water, or ambulances. 

Some one stealing plants, uh no.  They are stealing copper piping and other house fixtures.  And I am sure if he is living in his house after 2 years he would have scrubbed off the water line, especially if his house was not gutted.

Oh no she din’t.  She did not just say after 2 years that she got a  car that cost her 2 FEMA checks.  Okay, that was too much.  We haven’t seen a FEMA check in 2 years. 

He just said Upper 9 which I have never heard of and that part wasn’t flooded.  It was the Lower 9th.  George says that it looks more like Uptown off of Louisiana. 

4215 bourbon?  If you are going to fake an address make it more real.  French Quarter addresses don’t go up that high.  They are only in the hundreds.  Okay, now we are skipping across the river without taking the bridge.  They are just jumping all over the places.  Maybe it is just TV magic. 

Riverfront casino is actually Hotel Intercontinental. 

We are only 10 minutes into the show and it is 8:20pm.  We have been TiVoing, so forgive us if it takes us 2 hours to watch an hour show.  Also, George is trying to spot himself while he is out working in the Quarter.  No luck, yet.

Shout out to Westwego!!! (Man being dumped in the water for information said he was out shrimping while his ex-girlfriend was being shot.  When asked where is his fish and shrimp, he says he sold it at the fish market in Westwego.)

The names are little too cajun.  Sure there are tons of names like that in the area, but they are more spread out.  You don’t find that many names in the NOPD or any other entity.

Man, that is harsh. (Altanta is not special, but it ain’t here.)  It doesn’t smell like that, anymore. (With regards to the cop’s wife claiming there is a mold smell.  We just naturally have a funky smell).  This would be a little more believable if it wasn’t taking place 2 years after the storm.  Maybe a year after, but not 2.

It would be better if the New Orleans cop didn’t drink on duty.  It just portrays that we are all drinkers, but hey other cops in other cop shows drink on the job, too.  He is the rogue cop. 

I can let it go with the drive by and the cop car blowing up in the Quarter (Jackson Square).  However, it is hard to believe because there is too much traffic to make a quick getaway.  One beef, though, is that people might think that the Quarter is violent when actually it is one of the safer places to be.  Jackson Square is closed at night and the only time I think it was open was for the President’s speech after Katrina.

Those streets are no where near the CBD.  (drawing street map in the dirt, morning after the drive by shooting, at Jackson Square)  Is it because they are ficitionalizing the story, but why not use the actual street names? 

I don’t believe that a NOPD cop, that stayed during the storm, would give a run way cop the time of day.  I  will go with it for the story.

There is no way that house is in the 9th ward.  It is a little too big and a little too nice. 

Niiiiiice, a VISA commerical featuring the Saints. 

Quasi-celebrity Alert:  Tom Cruise’s cousin.

I am so using that line, “There are more loose ends than a whore house”. (Said by the police captain after explaining how the case has turned political.)

Those police cruisers are tpainted like the ones before Katrina.  They are not so blue or fancy, anymore.  More like quickly painted to get them out and about.

They don’t steal street signs, because you can’t steal something that was never been replaced.  Thanks, mayor.

Fighting with George to fast forward through the Resident Evil commerical, so I don’t get nightmares.  Dumass.

Cashing in to keep the misery going is the insurance companies’ job.  (Officer Boulet is scolding the rich white girl for her pilot to keep the 9th ward from coming back.)

Predictable ending.  She did it for her brother.  She didn’t just use the meaning of Katrina?  I am shocked and appalled.  Yes, Katrina does mean cleansing and purification.  She played the race card, albeit in a round about way, but we know what they mean.  I could have done without this, but it is how some people feel. 

I swear it is surely Hollywood magic to get around the city so fast.  You would think there is no traffic in the city.

LIVEBLOGGING Emergency:  Low battery on the laptop.  Husband moving too slow to get plug in cord.  HURRY, DAMMIT!  HURRY!

I notice the New Orleans cop didn’t jump in the river.  He knows better.  Better to let the yankee do it. 

All S.W.A.T and other law enforcement supplies can be purchased at 10-8 Tactical supply on Jefferson Hwy. (S.W.A.T. team enters to save the day) 

What hospital are they at?  Even before the storm our hospitals didn’t look that fancy.  They look like…wait for it…hospitals.  I haven’t been in one hospital that had chandliers hanging in the hallway.  It would have been nice to have something like that to use as a focal point while in labor. 

Definitely Uptown.  Too many trees for the 9th ward. (Thank you street party for Officer Boulet.) 

Shocker:  The white partner (I haven’t paid attention to the names) was at OPP during the storm.  The cells didn’t fill up with water at OPP.  So, now the NOPD is not checking records for their new recruits?  I hope that is fiction. Although who better to catch a criminal than another criminal.

Stay tune for a more indepth review.

       

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Sticky Afternoon

When I agreed to take on NOLA’s baby once a week, I knew it would be hectic in the afternoon.  You see every Wednesday is Amber’s dance class day.  This means as soon as we get home, we need to throw Sam and Amber into the bathtub, get them dressed, have snacks and then off to dance class.  It is always hectic, but with my experience I know that babies always pick the one time that you are running around crazy to want to eat, poop, or scream for no particular reason. 

I put Sun into Sam’s crib to give the other 2 a bath.  I figured she would be protected and more comfortable than on the floor of the bathroom drowning in the splashes of the 2 monkeys in the tub.  Well, she wasn’t that pleased.  No problem.  I believe I have a new Olympic sport.  The Mother Mad Dash.  Sam got a bath in about 23.5 seconds and then it was Amber’s turn.  Since she is 5 years old, I think she can handle her own hyigene.  However, she believes that she needs to really take her time and indulge in a nice warm bath. 

Sam walks into his room confused and basically telling me to get that baby out of his bed.  I think he, also, told me in no uncertain terms, that if that baby is staying then she is not taking his bed.  The rest of his dressing time was spent elaborating on this point.  Once down he would run to his crib spew out some gibberish and then run out of the room with his hands raised like he just can’t take living in this nut house. 

I figured that Sun screamed enough that maybe I should try to do something about it, so I started feeding her.  From the rocking chair in Sam’s room, I became the Drill Sargent to get Amber moving out of the tub and dressed.  Sun really didn’t want her bottle, but was pissed when I told her that I had things to do and if she was just going to roll the nipple around in her mouth I would have to cease the bottle process.  Don’t worry, NOLA, she would take a bottle later downstairs.  Sun then laid in the middle of my bedroom while Amber and Sam circled her like a couple of vultures ready to attack.  Amber thrilled to have a baby in the house and Sam’s baby status threatened.  Amber just wanted to love all over her and Sam was plotting her to get her out of his life.

First day of babysitting has gone well and fast.  Before I knew it, it was time to pick up Amber from school and in just mere minutes we will be off again to dance class.  Sun’s first day has been full of new and exciting adventures: like the drop off which was more like a drug exchange, the circling of various creatures (Sam, Amber, Boudin, and Cleo) each wondering if she is staying  and all the hustle and bustle of being at the Old Homestead.  I am sure she will have many stories to tell her parents when she is reunited with them tonight. 

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Late Breaking News

We have a smile.  The baby has smiled.  Although, we are perplexed at her happiness toward the floodlight over the counter.

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The Babysitting Continues.

It appears that my son is not a evil mutant being sent to earth to destroy me.  Sam can be nurturing and caring, too, just not to his mother.  Well, as only a 19 month old can.  He heard Sun crying and figuring that his binky cures all that ails him (really we use it as a mute button, which doesn’t work so well these days), he offered Sun her binky.  Okay, everyone get the awwwwwws out of the way.  Here is how it went down:  Sam finds the pink binky and hands it to Sun.  Seeing that she is 3 months old and has trouble controlling her hand movements this didn’t work.  Moving on to plan B, stick binky into crying baby’s mouth.  He is gentle at first, but once he sees that she doesn’t take it he gets more aggressive.  I enter (invision SuperMom Uniform) and tell Sam that maybe we should feed her.  I secretly hide the binky ontop of the conter, because when you are barely over 2 feet tall it is easy to hide things from you. 

Sam is not going to be left out of the game just yet.  I hold the bottle in Sun’s mouth and Sam comes in to assist, because one hand on a bottle just isn’t enough.  However, I don’t think jamming the bottle down the baby’s throat is what she, her mother and I had in mind.  I calmly tell Sam to be gentle and show him how to hold the bottle.  He gives up, because it is just no fun unless he can do it his way, which is to jackhammer the bottle in the baby’s mouth.  At this point, Sun is wondering where the hell is her mother and why has she been left her with this bunch of crazies.

In the middle of this or before, not quite sure, NOLA calls.  She is in freaked out mode, because I ignored her phone calls, because who needs a hysterical mother on the other line giving you grief.  I mean there was no need to worry, because I was just finishing that last swig of bourbon that had been calling my name since I awoke this morning and getting ready to take the kids on a joy ride.  You caught me, not really, I was simply wishing my Dad a happy birthday.  I think turning 56 years old grants you a phone call from your oldest child.  (And if his other kids are reading this, give him a call.  Just remember to speak up, he is getting a little deaf.  Does anyone want to go in with me on an ear horn?)  My father knows how to talk and there wasn’t room for a little break to switch over to catch NOLA’s call.  I did return the call as soon as I was free, although, I don’t know if she wanted me to balance her newborn on my knee while trying to sit on Sam, to keep him away from the dog, and talk on the phone.  Hey, we moms need to know how to multitask.

All is well at this point.  That baby packed away about 6 ounces of milk, had a poop and decided she was comfortable enough to take a little nap.  I am not sure what else the day holds for me, but I have decided to give up on the laundry, cleaning the floors and giving Sam a nutritious lunch.  I am sure he won’t mind a few handfuls of Gerber Puffs thrown his way and maybe a graham cracker or two.  Besides my focus needs to be on the Internet exploring blogs and looking at Halloween costumes on the newborn in my care.

One last thing, how can one forget about the poop that these little creatures produce?  I am still changing diapers, but baby poop and toddler poop are in very different leagues.  They are, also, things I can do without.  *sigh* The human body is a miracle and what goes in, must come out.  Speaking of it coming out, I think I hear the digestion of Puffs and graham crackers.  Back to the grind, ur, poop.

*This post was sponsored by Exaggerated Weekly, when the real story just isn’t enough.

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LIVEBLOGGING: The Babysitting Chronicles

 I have gained another child today.  It is one day a week and I think it is the best way to go when doing this parenting thing.  I mean I like babies and all, but they tend to get on my nerves with their constant dependence, so I get the baby joys but not the all the time babiness.  I am babysitting my dear friend’s first born while she goes to work and fight whom ever lawyers fight.  I would say that she is making the world safe for everyone, but she is afterall a lawyer and I would hate to give you false hope.  You didn’t think I could do this without a lawyer joke, eh?

 I figured I would have so much time on my hands what with a 3 month old and 19 month old to look after, the mountain of laundry that I may decide to let loose and swallow both whole so I can get a little down time and the new stance I am taking against ringworm to live blog our adventures.  I figured Sun’s mom can check in on her and I can make myself look like the Madonna.  No not that one, the real one.  I am sure it will be a full day and I am just hoping I don’t lose anyone. 

It is almost 10am and I have, given a bottle to the baby, put Sam’s binky in time out (for tasting the dog) twice, and surfing the web.  Sun is sleeping all comfy like in the sling, which relieves the question of where I was going to put this baby to keep her safe from a rough and tumble toddler boy and a noisy, yet polite and British, Beagle. 

On the agenda today:  folding laundry, liveblogging, keeping Sam from picking up more fungi, keeping Amber from smothering the baby with love, get them all to dance class, figure out the baby drop off and general caretaking of a newborn.  Not in that order.  Really I am not sure what order any of this will take place, but it is going to Southern Mom’s wild ride.  Stick around for the show.

And if you are Sun’s Mom, she drank 2 ounces of breastmilk and only cried twice.  Once when Sam laid down next to her.  I think it was because he smelled or she was just scared of 22 pounds of toddler mass coming at her. 

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