I fled back to my long-haired, pound, Tulane-student boyfriend. Never went back to the roast beef. Editor's Pick. Casually dressed Saints coach Sean Payton was swaying to the music in a corner beyond the dance floor. Decades old expectations were more or less met.
At least he wasn't belching beer.
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I did finally make the centerfold in Februarywas on the cover of that same issue, and did several more photo shoots for them, plus one more cover. Write to Olivia B. New Orleans Country Club. Somewhere along the way I had gotten married to Eddie, a cop in the French Quarter. Never would have had a real king cake at a family party, never would have gone fishing out of Empire, La. We neophytes could only nod dumbly and hope to aspire. I found out later that they called me "HG" behind my back, for "homegrown.