Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder

My fiancée thinks that savior Tony Romo is increasingly attractive (as do most other Cowboys fans, I'm sure). The lopsided pinch pots of my youth possess some sort of appeal, if not exactly aesthetic, for my mother. And innumerable little boys seem to have the hots for Jessica Simpson.

As for me, I am head over heels smitten (sorry Mr. Pitt, my heart had to go elsewhere at some point and time). New Orleans, you are so beautiful, so beautiful, to me.

I remember evacuating the city, embarking on what seemed like a never ending, and progressively uncomfortable, car ride with my mother. (For the record, my mother is one of the greatest people I have ever known, but being subjected to her barrage of sexually related questions is not my idea of fun.) Waiting to purchase my lifeline, lemon lime gatorade and barbeque sunflower seeds, it seemed only fitting that my sales associate was named Katrina.

Back in the city of my dreams, I am dismayed by the pity card that now seems to be synonymous with hurricane ravaged New Orleans. We're still better than your tinsel town, middle class suburbia, or overtly sophisticated metropolises, even submerged.

Let's be honest, no one comes here to look at our awesome aquarium, or visit the uptown zoo. Tourist NOLA can be summed up by booze, food, booze, and more booze.

Allow me to get to address the subject of the drink. If you're coming here to get a little, or a lot, inebriated, and most people are, you might want to stray from the well beaten path of the NOLA tourist. Look for the smaller, seemingly hole in the wall, bars off of the side streets downtown, and believe me, your visit will be memorable.

Don't just stick to the French Quarter surrounding your hotel though. Visit Frenchman if you're more into the live band, hookah, or artsy thing. The street tends to be less touristy, but not necessarily less crowded, than Bourbon or Decatur.

Not that Bourbon Street in all its decadence is something that should be wholly ignored… But begin your visit by heeding a few warnings:

1.The street is really disgustingly filthy. Don't wear heels if you routinely take them off when drunk or tired. Unless you want to die of some awful foot fungal disease.

2.Hand grenades are indeed strong, it's not just a gimmick.

3.If there is a greasy bouncer outside beckoning your wife to come in for free, avoid it.

4.No glass bottles on the street, they'll actually arrest you for that one… sometimes. (And public urination. So stop the urge to emulate frat boys)

5.Hurricanes are okay, but equal instant hangover. (That's generally what happens when you consume a drink that is for the most part sugar)

Now to my favorite subject, food. NOLA food is all about flavor. None of that granola hippie health food nonsense here. And watch out when places warn that a dish is spicy, because I have witnessed, much to my utter fascination and disgust, natives chugging hotsauce.

Doing the tourist thing, I guess Cajun food is a necessity. There are a lot of high end restaurants, but I've always found that home style mom and pop joints are the best. But remember, traditional barbeque shrimp is cooked in the shell, meaning you gotta get down and dirty peeling it. Oh, and it's not barbeque sauce like the stuff you dip your chicken fingers in.

Try some crawfish too, better yet, try to find a nice family that will let you in on their crawfish boil. If you like lobster, but in smaller bite size pieces this is your kind of food.

Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I have a guilty pleasure called popeyes. Did I mention there is one on Canal Street? So it's not camera worthy, but you can only take so much of tourist food. And besides, we have mastered the art of fast food fried chicken.

There is obviously more to my lovely city than booze and food. We boast one of the most unique cultures in America. Where else will you find French as a part of the regular curriculum?

Katrina's a bitch. Yes, we know this. But we're not dead

We're the home of Mardi Gras, Emerill, crawfish, 24 hour bars, debauchery, and love. Nobody needs that tourist boost more than us. So fine, I'll play that pity card. You might as well guilt trip your wife/husband/boyfriend/reluctant bookish possibly still virgin friend into visiting that poor hurricane ravaged city. Besides, we have beads, and what other city throws plastic trinkets at you by the millions?