Part of the New Orleans Collection

Back when Phil was still The Suitor he invited me to join him after one of his business dinners at Lure Restaurant on Mercer. "After" never came. When I arrived fashionably on time (late is oversold these days), expecting loosened ties and cigars, I was surprised to see a shoreline of Fannie Bay oysters, stone crab claws, lobster tails, and cockles. Mid-bite, my suitor flagged me down, inviting me to join the table full of cocks and cockles. My kinda night. Only thing missing? My buzz.

It was a night of overabundance with wines you’d read about in reviews, wondering who the hell reads reviews anyway, and who, dare I ask, has the opportunity to sniff, swish, and spit (as if!)?  Most notable that evening was the host: John Codling. A friend and business associate of Phil’s, John has had a life less ordinary.  A self-made success story with a tragic undercurrent of 9/11 losses.  

With stories of shitting his pants behind him, John is now married with son and fat. Yes, fat. John sings to fat, showers with the guy, and even brings him donuts after sex. But senor fat is merely a temporary occupant in the John (pardon the pun). "Temporary" because my buddy John is running the NYC Marathon, releasing the weight in honor of Paul Nichols. Paul was there for John, and countless others who needed support, and recently, Paul passed from his own battle with cancer.  Through his Team Continuum, Paul’s battle continues, turning cancer into can.

I want to support my friend John and to say thank you for keeping The Suitor out late that night, for being warm and welcoming, and always making me laugh… and think. You’re an extraordinary person, and I’m thankful you’re in my life. Only, brothah, we wish there was "less of you" in it. 

And about your buddha buddy fat… think you can arrange a set-up with my sweet little muchacha fat? She’s tired of sitting on the sofa with me, and she’d kill a small horse for the opportunity not to be subjected to "I’m a Celebrity: Get Me Out Of Here." She and your fatty mcfatpants can go stab tubs of Bearnaise at this little restaurant we like to call Lure FishBar, while I cheer you on from the sidelines, wearing neon pink and yellow in your honor.

 A YEAR AGO: 40 Carrots
4 YEARS AGO: Clean