fresh off the coattails of our lawmakers' decision to promote childhood obesity, the city of new orleans (being the picture of health, after all) hosted probably the most highly-anticipated food festival of the year: the oak street po-boy festival. in an attempt to beat the crowds - because, you know, god forbid we have to wait in line to buy a 3rd, 4th or 5th po-boy - we skipped breakfast and hit the fest at 11. by 11:15 i was satiated and by 11:30 i had commenced self-loathing. thankfully oak street is long, parking was limited and the temperature hit 80 degrees by noon, so by the time we reached the car, i had sweated out at least one of the po-boys and an entire beer (which, in my mind, means i broke even by having one normal-sized meal. go me).
ya. i don't know.
the bread had more security than herman cain.
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