Chances are if you’re reading this then you understand professional wrestling and you are familiar with the Survivor Series format. If you have no idea what I’m talking about then run. Run far, far away. Run so far that you won’t think I’m crazy. Because check it- I think this might be one of the most interesting pay-per-view cards in the history of pro wrestling. Definitely top twenty. Maybe top fifteen. Possibly cracks the top ten. Possibly. Run!

Team Morrison vs. Team Miz

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Earlier this week I was in my favorite city on the planet, New Orleans, being a cool dude. I ate some scallops and sushi like a cool dude, ran around the park like a cool dude, rode in a cab a couple of times like a cool dude, watched this really fantastic sketch comedy show like a cool dude that was made by these cool dudes, joined several thousand other cool dude Saints fans at the airport to welcome the team home from St. Louis and I had an eggnog daiquiri.

Oh yeah. Also, I hung out with future hall of famer Darren Sharper from the New Orleans Saints. That part was cool too. I got to ask him a really serious question that’s been bugging me as a life-long Saints fan that nobody else has the ballsack to answer. I walked like Ric Flair right into that House of Blues Foundation Room, sat on the biggest most comfortable sofa and spoke my mind while dozens of wanna-be sports reporters drooled. Please see video below and talk to my agent about future sports-celebrity interviews you might want to send me on.

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What happens when a big New Orleans Saints fan (me) is driving home to Austin from a weekend of shows in New Orleans and the drive has to blast off in the morning because people have real work the next day and we have no choice but to stop in Lake Charles to watch the game?

First, you contact the one person you know who has ties to Lake Charles, long time Studio8 friend Devon. She suggests that for the most TV’s we go to Buffalo Wild Wings and for a tacky Lake Charles experience, we go to The Sports Pit. When in Rome, go to Sports Pit, which was closed. So we go to two more establishments with “sports” in the names and they are all closed. On Sunday. During Football season.

Off to Buffalo Wild Wings which is packed, probably because all the establishments with “sports” in the names are all closed on Sunday during Football season. We have to eat so we go to a generic Mexican restaurant. Turns out THEY have a television. They also have Kraft Macaroni Cheese cheese and nasty gutter beans on their nachos. Also, sad vacuum cleaners that weren’t cleaning anything and gross margarita dust that made Clay cough. At one point it looked like the dining room was closing and when we asked the bartender if they close at 2:00 he looked at us like we were aliens and said, “Why would we close at 2:00?” I replied, “Because the dining room is empty and people are cleaning it.” He says, “Uh, no. We close at 3:30.”

Saints win, Lake Charles loses.

This morning I woke up on a sofa with a too-small blanket and a light sweat. Homegirl on the sofa to my left was snoring. Homeboy to my right lost his clothes in the middle of the night. Me, I felt a thick cream something on my chest, on the blanket and on the pillow. I checked my pants to see if my crotch region was damp and it wasn’t so I checked my beard and it was dry. I carefully smelled the cream.

I’ve never had this much of an all-out sports dude weekend and I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten hooked up better sports wise. It’s tough to compete with my last second visit to one of the last games at Yankee Stadium (guy with too-big bags gets turned away at gate and he gives his tickets away!) and Shea Stadium (a sad old friend gets on-top-of-dugout tickets!) but we’ll give it a shot.

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