that this past weekend at IFBC
was among the very
best of my life,
but I’m not convinced that quite captures how much I loved every
I felt engaged in each session.
I ate my (and your) fried food quota for at least 16 full weeks.
I “found” beads in the French Quarter.
I may have even [successfully?] guilted my dear friend, Andrew Scrivani, into photographing my second book, a cookbook.
I laughed and loved with dozens of friends.
I Bourboned more than one Street.
I danced and cocktailed and hurricaned til each morning came, hot and humid.
Made absolutely certain to publicly embarrass myself no less than 3 [three] unmentionable times.
Slept a combined ten hours in 5 days.
Can’t wait for Santa Monica :)