Kevin Allman
@kevinallman
I’ll be posting soon. Jokes and journalism. Slow-walking over here. #nolatwitter
Cleaning out paperwork. Guess I’d forgotten that I’m “counted among the wealthiest Americans.”
These Cajun Navies have more drama than Dallas and Dynasty combined, and I don’t have any idea where the cashish is coming from or where it’s going
Too effin’ hot to cook. Used my farm stand haul to make a caprese with romaine, Kalamata olives, and chopped chicken.
In the plus column for California: buying produce directly from the farmer. No poop lettuce for ya boy
Going through Mom’s files. I have no memory of this but it seems my dad paid me a nickel a page to write short stories before I even was in kindergarten. They have beginnings, middles, and ends. I was four.
If they don’t stop sending push alerts for bullshit like this, I’m out. If you’re going to interrupt my phone because the social desk seems obsessed with dubious celebrities …
My everyday. Despite the description I do not feel like an Irish Hunting Newsboy
I am in a desert for good Asian food but a new authentic Chinese place opened near me and it’s great. Homemade dumplings (they have a dumpling lady) and egg rolls. Had shredded pork in hot garlic sauce combo for lunch and it was more than I could eat for $10.75.
Slightly less impressive than Queen Carlotta’s cardboard castle in John Waters’ “Desperate Living”
But the small businesses the city is destroying on Decatur Street get a magnanimous $2500 grant
“Short Ribbs.” Short-lived attempt to do SNL with a cast of little people show biz veterans of a certain age. It was … different.
Siri, show me the most Louisiana crime story of the day and cc: @meggardiner.bsky.social
My cat is having big trouble adjusting to my mom’s absence. The yowling has subsided, but he’s glued to me all the time and is crapping just outside the litter box. He had her, the dog, and his bonded cat for years and now it’s just me. I’m told this could last months.
Getting one’s balls out of a blind trust only matters when something is of stake, not after.
Going for 1950s drama in my living room. I love this picture of my mom.
Today is my mom’s interment. Would you permit me some memories? She refused to behave or dress like an old lady, always stylish. This is her at 83, ziplining in the Alaska rainforest, and at 91, taking to the street to protest a man she loathed.
For those who do not know: my mother died unexpectedly three weeks ago today. Doing OK on Mother’s Day, but the incompetence of the ambulance service, her longtime CPA, the mortuary, and Chase Bank has been monumental and exhausting.
Donating all the ugly ‘80s furniture as I can. I found these two mid-century beauties of end tables at flea markets today. Classic, simple, masculine. And $25 apiece.