Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Nawlins Can't Handle My Shit

Fucking Nawlins can't handle my shit.

Do not get me wrong, this town is incredible, but I'm a high-class alcoholic over here. I have goddamn standards. This place is full of amateurs.

Bourbon street is bullshit. I am not an elitist. Ya'll are just assholes. <

You know what's way better is when you find a corner market and get a coupla silos and sit on a street corner. That's some classy business right there. Fucking crackheads settled down next to us for awhile. Serious crackheads, man, these guys weren't fucking around.

By the way, I don't know if you guys know Tom Turner, but the man sells Lucky Dog hot dogs like an auctioneer and caught a forty pound catfish yesterday. He fixed his ol' landladay's roof in return for rent. We met him in front of Rolland's Quik Mart (Amber just corrected me, because it's Rouses Quik Mart. Because yeah, I admit, I just totally made up a name)at ten pm, just hanging out in front with a tackle box and a shit eating grin. Fucking love that guy.

So I was hungover as fuck this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. And then Muffy and Bobbay returned to the Ambassador after wandering around with their goddamn skirts and found me sleeping on the cot with the room door wide open, because they are retarded. What if someone wanted to rape me, you cocksmokers?

Bobbay says, "Yeah. Sor."



Mister Crowley said...

Just curious. Did some kind soul drop off PBR and Jag at Carbondale station?

The Ambiguous Blob said...

You are drunk and leaving blog comments at -what time is it? 5am? Hahahaha. Frakking awesome. I commend you and your hardcore party skillz. Please close and lock the door when you pass out. And start carrying a shank in your pocket while you're there. It'll come in handy probably.

Mrs. Booms said...

The Big Easy had no idea what was coming it's way.

I'm pretty sure of that.

Anonymous said...

"I don't know if you guys know Tom Turner." Fuck, you make me laugh.

A Free Man said...

Yep, that sounds like the way to experience the Big Easy. Head on down to the 9th ward and hang out with the Guardsmen next.

Kitty said...

Sleeping with the door wide open in New Orleans?
Girl, you scare the crap out of me.
Hey, glad you made it there. Can't wait to ALL about it.

~Mountain Lover~ said...

Shit, girl. You're big league now.

Anonymous said...

Blog post of the year. Hands down.

Rassles said...

Crow: Nope. Buncha cockteases, everyone.

Ambiblob: Yes it is frakking awesome. And I'm not the one who left the door open--they forgot to close it when they left, and I was definitely asleep. I didn't wake up until they came home a couple hours later and they were like, "Dude, we suck, and we left the door wide open."

Boomer: No one ever realizes it.

Ginny: Tom Turner would as well, the man is a walking bowl of hilarity.

Freeman: Yeah, I slept through the whole "let's go to the ninth ward thing." Hangover thwarted.

Kitty: I didn't do it on purpose, I promise. I didn't even know. I was no where near that door, I have never seen that door in my life. In fact, I didn't even know there was a door in the first place.

Mount: What would have happened, do you think, had I gone to South Africa instead?

Erin: Well, shucks.

Bobbay said...

I stand by my "Yeah, sar." Cuz we totally didn't shut the door.

But we did see the 9th war. Which everyone should. But not at the risk of being raped.


paperback reader said...

That does sound decidedly professional, which worries me, as I rarely find myself drinking in the street anymore, as I pass out before getting off the couch. I could start opening the door first, though.