Here we are, in our full costumed regalia. D wanted to walk in comfort and warmth while ripping on the NFL and I was going for a Saint / winged-football-goddess sort of look. Not many notice that the mask represents a football field with yard lines. Yes, I am a dork.
It doesn’t look too shabby in the picture above, but I wasn’t pleased with the quality of my costume this year for a number of reasons:
a) Notice severe lack of headdress. Thanks to bad weather all across America over the weekend and the classic incompetence of Delta Airlines gate agents, I didn’t reach New Orleans halfway into Sunday. Therefore and alas, between abuse taken during repeated trips to the airport and the fact that the sealant fumes still coming off it would have rendered our entire airplane unconscious, my headdress had to be left behind. An almost-seizure-inducing hour on the phone yesterday with Delta corporate customer service got me a $100 voucher good towards the purchase of a future flight. Woo to the hoo.
b) Too tired on Tuesday morning to do anything more glam with hair. Boo!
c) The wings didn’t make it past the car. Yes, I forgot to put them on once we reached our destination, leaving me prey to an endless string of tourists asking, “What are you supposed to be? An Indian?” D and I wanted to say, “Yeah, Mardi Gras Indian!” But, we didn’t think they would understand.
d) Costume 2010 would have been decidedly more spectacular had I not been forced to wear a whole sweatsuit under it. Damned cold. Actually, damned fluctuating temperatures, which made poor Loki so ill he had to go to the doctor on Mardi Gras Day instead of leading the annual Krewe of Chartreuse walk. Ick.
We caught some of the Zulu parade, walked into the Quarter, ate chili cheese tots at the Three Legged Dog and ended up at home away from home, i.e. Fahy’s. As usual, our evening ended early. To quote Editor B: “Mardi Gras is primarily an early morning holiday, at least to me. It’s kind of like Christmas in that way. This is contrary to the image many casual tourists might have in mind, due to the common association linking revelry with late nights. But I rarely stay out late on Mardi Gras, and for me the best part of the day is generally before noon.”
Still rolling around in indescribable joy because (the promised mask is done and) WOOOOOHOOOOO THE SAINTS WON THE SUPERBOWL! This win signifies so much more than the city team’s prowess at football. It’s about hope, possibility, renewal and an invitation to everyone who wrote off New Orleans to kiss its muddy behind. Pistolette writes:
It can be confusing to some how the win of a football team can somehow be tied to the rebuilding of a devastated city. But if you lived here you’d feel it. Athletes often talk of ‘momentum’, and Nola has definitely been experiencing it since Katrina. There is a drive and energy here that simply defies. For being a culture preoccupied with pleasure, I didn’t realize how passionately the people here would go to war over defending their right to it. I guess we’re more like our French fathers after all.
The following video was taken on the street on which D and I used to live. Each time I watch it, I am so deeply happy for everyone crying, laughing, drinking, jumping and dancing, and want to hug all of them. The Packer Nation, known for the unfettered dedication of its fans in good times and in bad, salutes the WhoDat Nation. You deserve it all.
I cannot begin to tell you how majorly bummed I was at not being at Fahy’s with D and my friends to watch and celebrate victory and history in the making. Kudos to my family, however, for screaming loudly in support of the Saints and agreeing with me that I should have been in New Orleans. Friends who don’t stay up late and rarely party made their way to the French Quarter at 11PM; folks I thought didn’t have my phone number called or texted into the wee hours of the morning. Loki, Alexis and I should have been there. We should also be there today, on Lombardi Gras a.k.a. Dat Tuesday, for the parade about to happen in downtown New Orleans to honor the Saints. Thankfully, my husband is in New Orleans armed with a camera (and a death threat should he fail to get good pictures).
Keep the party hot for me, y’all. I will be there on Friday and you know it’s gonna be a good time.
Sat up in bed early this morning, a Sunday morning, knowing this would happen. Changed into my Ashley shirt at halftime. I knew they’d win, but didn’t know how or by how many points. Three good dead-on Hartley field goals. Then, the Tracy Porter interception and runback. I have never been more certain of victory.
At this moment in time and history, I sit shaking in utter disbelief. But why? I knew all along. Still, like Cade, I took the above picture and am posting it here, so that when I look at this blog tomorrow, I will know it’s not just a dream. Thank you, Drew Brees. We deserve this, New Orleans. You deserve this, lifelong Saints fans. A team that plays with so much heart had to have destiny on their side.
WHO DAT! WHO DAT! WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS? NO ONE.
This win is for you, Professor Morris. Each time the Saints faltered, I touched the big fleur de lis on my shirt and said, “Come on, Ashley, give them a nudge.” You came through. You are our twelfth saint. As an offering, I will make absolutely sure your friend and mine, Loki, is dressed as a Saintsation on Super Sunday and, if he reneges, drive down to Cincinnati and accost him with a wig and a tube of lipstick.
I’m screaming for you and New Orleanians everywhere, big man. So loud and often and hours later that I am hoarse. Trust me, when an avid football fan screams in Ohio farmland, she does make a sound.
Chicago Tribune | Super Bowl Matchup: New Orleans Saints vs. Indianapolis Colts: A young kicker named Garrett Hartley is the most valuable person in New Orleans right now. His kick sent the Saints to the Superbowl. The Saints defense worked their butts off as well – according to my stats team (that would be D and @NOLADishu), the official #FavreOnTheGround count stands at 12. To count, his ass had to make full contact with the turf and his eyes with the Superdome’s ceiling. Pierre Thomas, Devery Henderson and Jonathan Vilma, good work.
The real credit for beating the Vikings, however, goes to Favre himself. As a fiercely loyal Green Bay Packers fan and former Favre fangirl who suffered many a loss with him at my team’s helm, let me assure you that #4 did today what he does best in the post-season: throw grounders and interceptions at crunch time. This game nicely encapsulated his career to date. So, just you go ahead, sports media, and wipe, powder and kiss the PackersJetsVikings Oh Who Knows Probably The Bears This Year quarterback’s tush before, during and after his LOSS. There’s probably a special place in Hall of Fame Heaven reserved for your story of Aging Superhuman Reviled By Many. Hell, it probably makes your ancient behinds feel good, too. But don’t you ever insult your viewers and pretend you didn’t anticipate his loss. And don’t you ever ignore a team and its quarterback through the entirety of a championship game only to wear its beads, talk of its city, sing its songs and praises (but not really) and party in its streets after it wins. For marginalizing this New Orleans Saints team even when it wins, you’re on notice. Especially you, Joe Buck.
Then again, I smile knowing that Jon Gruden cries himself to sleep tonight with an 8×10 glossy signed “Hugs & Kisses, Brett” on his bedside table.
NYTimes | Did The Officials Bungle The Game For The Vikings? Let’s not even talk about the reffing tonight. I have no embolisms left. If anything, the refs tried really hard to give the game to Jesus Brett, but the Saints prevailed. So, so, so proud of Drew Brees and his great team.
New Orleans, you fill my heart and soul tonight. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you Right Now, but it will have to wait until Thursday night when D and I arrive to walk in Krewe du Vieux once again. Our theme this year is All Fired Up. Now I wonder why we bothered making costumes when each one of us is going to combust between now and then.
Yes, the Packers loss to the Cardinals yesterday sucked and I haven’t really slept or eaten since. I am sorely disappointed in the so-called #1 Rush Defense in the NFL who missed the fraking plane to Arizona and Dom Capers who was evidently off holding up a bar somewhere. But, I forgive Nick Barnett because he is a mensch (yeah, his team and he are paid millions of dollars to deliver at crunch time, but humility and a promise to work harder work wonders with the Packer Nation). A shout-out to Ted Thompson for sticking to his guns, saying No Thanks to Brett Favre and going with Aaron Rodgers, and for signing Charles Woodson, but not so much for replacing Ryan Longwell with Mason Crosby. I am proud of young Rodgers for bringing us this far in two years, especially given our Swiss cheese offense earlier this season, psycho(tic) defense and staggering penalty count. Don’t be fickle, some of you, and remember that Favre would have thrown six interceptions in that one game.
Ultimately, whatever team won yesterday was destined to get spanked in New Orleans next week, so now I can root for the Saints without reservation. Before I allow the second line, replete with king cake, sazeracs and brass bands, to start at VatulNet World HQ, however, some things need to go on the record.
