If anyone is going to lovingly hand-feed me an oyster, it’s going to be me.
New Orleanians, as a rule, are a high-spirited bunch. We love the outlandish, the over-the-top, the joie de vivre of a grown man glittered from nose-to-toes at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday morning for no clear reason other than he just damn well felt like it. We’re the Leos of the country (even if our star signs don’t quite match up), and don’t our antics show it.
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