imaginary pictures

Since returning from The Big Easy, I haven't had a chance to upload my pictures...so I thought I'd give you some verbal descriptions of my time there (also, I don't have pics of some of the very best bits)!

Imagine:

1) Two married couples in their 40's--possibly swapping wives for the night, in the audience at a blues show. Both women had blonde 80's poodle hair and kept disappearing into the bathroom for long periods of time. At first we thought, coke? But then after one trip they returned with a third poodly blonde and we thought--recruiting for some kind of little orgy? As you might guess, we spent the entire show watching these people rather than the musicians on stage. Blondie #1 (fake tits almost spilling out) proceeded to get more and more intoxicated as she and Blondie #2 (tall & horsey-faced) groped each other to the great delight of the 2 men. Blondie #1's man did a lot of ass groping, even sticking his hand right into her pants a number of times. The Poodle Girls followed us into the bathroom at one point, where I was sure I would find out more about what their group was up to. Unfortunately, the only action I got to witness in the bathroom was Horsey-Face holding Fake Tits up and leading her into the stall to puke. Post-puke, the action in the audience got even better, as Fake Tits demonstrated her love of licking Horsey-Face's armpit (NOT accidentally, I can assure you), and Fake Tits' man continually poured water into her mouth, grabbing her chin for stability. Whatever their plans were for later, I'm pretty sure nobody was sober enough to make them happen.

2) Things are in full swing on Bourbon Street as we stroll past tranny hookers and bachelorette party groups. Just as we pass some street blockades, some drunk guy lets go of his stomach contents about 2 feet from the cops on duty. They ignore him completely, and he just keeps on drinking.

3) At Jazz Fest, we spot a guy wearing a shirt we'd chuckled at the day before in a gift shop: it had a large picture of a rooster and said "Ask me about my cock." He was spending his day at the Fest roaming with a sharpie marker, asking women to sign the shirt. By the time we saw him a second time, he was passing through the area where we were sitting waiting to hear John Mayer play, seeking out new autographs, though the shirt was getting full of comments. I started reading some of them--some women had played along, while others were obviously more half-hearted in their efforts. I was thinking about what I might write if asked, when a girl seated nearby unknowingly took up my mission. She signed the back of his shirt with "I checked--it's tiny!"

4) This one can't be communicated in a picture anyway...our last night in town, after a day spent drinking at Jazz Fest in the 90-degree heat, we had a huge dinner at Paul Prudhomme's restaurant, K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen. We scored a great table on the balcony, and enjoyed wonderful food while a little brass group played traditional N'Awlins music on the street below. After dinner, we were all too full and too tired to go do any more drinking, so we retired to our rooms. J and I were sharing a room with my aunt, and [because other activities were off-limits in this situation] we decided to rent a movie. It was after 2 am when the movie ended and we finally turned out the lights. Perhaps as one last compliment to the chef before going to sleep, J let out a huge, long, loud fart. Just as the fart came to its conclusion, we heard a perfectly-timed "woo hoo!" from a reveler on the streets below. I guess there's always something to celebrate on Bourbon Street.