Otis,
Ya asked me how it was going test driving animation software. I figured out this much today. This sh#t is easier than it looks. I want to see and play with some more software before deciding on which one to use.
Written by cartoonist Eric T Styles about moving into the French Quarter of New Orleans. The day to day experience of living in one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world. The Quarter Rat is the name of the publication that Styles illustrates for featuring off the wall stories as told by locals who work as bartenders, bouncers, dancers and in the service industry on Bourbon Street.
Showing posts with label bourbon street. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bourbon street. Show all posts
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I got to get me some sleep, after I finish my last energy drink. Let me know what ya think.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Issue #28 - it's so great!
Issue #28 will be out this weekend, grab one tightly in your hand and squeeze all of the juicy humor out of it.
Seriously, we believe that it's one of our best ones yet. This issue is going back to our smaller pocket guide sizes. Less likely to be dropped while bar hopping and we were able to double the circulation quantity giving the advertisers more bang for the buck. Between it be the slow summer season and a miserably piss poor economy, many businesses that we approached told us "We just can't do an ad this month." We understand, my landlady is trying to understand. Being sort of out of work myself, I was able to devote a lot more time to this issue. I have always been flattered when readers / fans would approach me and say how they wished the Quarter Rat had more of my artwork in it, this month you got your wish.
Some of our advertisers have asked us to make the Quarter Rat Magazine a little more "tourist friendly" That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? We tried to on this issue (wink). I am currently available for custom artwork and ad layout work. We've noticed that some of you advertise in the more mainstream competing publications, we're cool with it. Ya know, you don't HAVE to use their artists. Just sayin. I am also available for t-shirt designs, web graphics, chalk board menus, house painting, dog walking.........
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
A little flesh, a little history
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
Not much between despair and ecstasy
This town will either raise you up, or eat you up. No middle ground in the Quarter. You meet people going in one of two directions, up or down. You're predator or prey depending on what street you walk. Ten or twenty years ago I never would have stood a chance here. Some days I still am not sure how my day will end. Driving cab at night for five years on the Jersey Shore was a learning experience. That was just prep school for life in the French Quarter.
Every night I walk Royal to Canal and Bourbon Street. After a year of living down here things do look different. Gone are the wide eyes of tourist awe, now covered with dark shades of suspicion for everyone. There aren't any more hustlers than when I first walked down Bourbon, I can just spot them from two blocks away now. Fewer attractive women, just a lot more hookers. Fewer homeless, just a lot more crackheads. There can be naked 18 year old girls hanging off of balconies and I'm watching the rats dart by with pizza crusts. Tourists snap pictures of the blinding neon signs while they step in horse crap from NOPD's mounted. Am I the only one who sees the hot dog vendor with his finger pushed up his nose to the third knuckle? I guess that couple from Minnesota placing an order with him missed it.
I watch people fall victim to the street scammers on all sides. There's nothing I can do for them, it's too late. Just keep walking. Shoe shine hustlers squirting polish on their shoes and wiping them down before the tourist understands what's going on. You shouldn't have stopped, now it will cost you five bucks to have a crackhead smear your new loafers with jism. A night manager at a fast food joint hurls a belligerent drunk out the front door and almost into you. The derelict spins to the foul sidewalk cracking his head hard do to the lack of motor skills. The manager returns inside, a naive tourist couple stop in shock and kneel to help the fallen. Bad move. With in 5 minutes the man on the sidewalk has scammed them out of $30 for more crack.
Acting like a tough guy on these streets will get you killed faster than a tour of duty in Iraq. Too many times I have read news stories of some hyper masculine man's man trying to save face in front of people that he will never see again, only to end up dead. Trying to start shit with me? Did you just comment about kicking my muthafuckin white ass? I keep walking, you wanted me to stop so you could start shit, I didn't stop. I win. If you follow me, then I do the crazy ass muthafucka routine on you. Especially now days, I might be a bath salt Zombie who will eat your fuckin face off.
I return to Toulouse Street with my energy drinks and a fresh pack of menthols. The ride ain't over until I lock the front door behind me. Between Bourbon and my door there is still a gauntlet of penniless winos and crackheads sitting on the stoops eyeballing potential prey. "Hey man, ya got an extra smoke?" "Sorry dude, all out."
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the Devil walking next to me
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the Devil walking next to me
Monday, July 2, 2012
yea? what?
HEY YOU blog reading muthafuckas, how da hell are ya? Sorry I've been drinking. Evidently when in the French Quarter sickening quantities of alcohol makes you a better writer, or so the history books make it seem. Money has been tight but tonight I splurged on a four loko and got a decent buzz. Now you are reading the effects of it. Tonight started out as my usual evening stroll with a sales call thrown in because I need the money. I haven't sold a fucking one, but had fun not doing it. I headed over to Mr Binky's on Chartres to see if they wanted to place an ad this month. Mr Binky's is a really cool adult shop with fuckin cool staff. I touched base with Vanish the clerk and he said to come back during 9 to 5 and speak with a manager. If I am awake between 9 and 5 I will go back.
I walked past the strip cub / brothel a few doors down where about two months ago I had an encounter. A scantily clad female (?) tried to entice me with "Hey honey, want to party?" "No thanks" I replied "I have somewhere to go..." "You ain't got nowhere to go, you ain't got no money anyways mutha fucka..." Fuck you skank. Tonight I walked past the same fine establishment when I was asked the very same question. "No thanks, I prefer my women without a penis..." Three steps later a cup filled with ice hit me between the shoulder blades.
I swung by and chatted with Catastrophe Curt and Blind Troy the street bluesman. Curt watches over Blind Troy on one of the toughest corners in the Quarter. About a month ago a couple of thugs tried to rob Troy and Curt took out after them. He grabbed one around the corner of Bourbon and Iberville. Curt chased them down when he caught up with one the punk turned around and stabbed Curt in the side. A dozen or so staples in the side later, we are all joking about it. This is the Quarter, your final mark may be a chalk outline.
I bullshitted with a Lucky Dog guy, a couple of doormen only to find my way back home. I don't want to live anyplace else.
I swung by and chatted with Catastrophe Curt and Blind Troy the street bluesman. Curt watches over Blind Troy on one of the toughest corners in the Quarter. About a month ago a couple of thugs tried to rob Troy and Curt took out after them. He grabbed one around the corner of Bourbon and Iberville. Curt chased them down when he caught up with one the punk turned around and stabbed Curt in the side. A dozen or so staples in the side later, we are all joking about it. This is the Quarter, your final mark may be a chalk outline.
I bullshitted with a Lucky Dog guy, a couple of doormen only to find my way back home. I don't want to live anyplace else.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Kick my ass for $1
I stepped out earlier to go to Rouses, as I exited my building I could see strobe lights flashing on my street. Lots blues and a few reds, cops are blue and EMT or NOFD are red. Most people get the rubber neck and can't wait to look, I was tempted to back into my door without even glancing at it. Instinct as a former cab driver, if you see flashing lights go the other way. It's nothing I haven't seen before, and just as a rule of thumb, AVOID COPS. Even if you haven't done anything, it's just smarter to do so. Let's say 5 cops are beating the shit out of some drunk and 5 more cops show up. There isn't enough ass to go around so the 5 new cops will grab whoever happens to be walking by at the time so they can have some fun too.
It's just common sense to stay away from the action. As I locked the gate behind me, my neighbor Richard comes skipping up to me from the middle of the mayhem like a little boy who just saw his first police car. Excitedly he told me what had happened, later Catastrophe Curt filled me in on more details.
Apparently one of our local characters was standing on the corner of Toulouse and Bourbon holding a sign that read "KICK MY ASS FOR $1" Sounds like he made a few bucks tonight. Drunk on booze and high on bath salts he became belligerent to passer-bys trying to drum up business. Someone told him to chill the fuck out or the cops were going to give him a very bad night. At that point he started to muthafuck the cops who took that as a challenge. Now, no place on Earth do you start shit like that with law enforcement, especially in New Orleans. Seriously, after a NOPD cop in the Quarter gets done beating your ass, they let their horses have sex with you. It's been documented.
I went on to Rouses, bought my coffee and hot dogs returning to see the ambulance pull away from in front of Molly's. As it chugged pass I glanced into the window to see a bloody and cuffed idiot on the gurney having a very bad night. I wondered if he ever got his dollar. Life in the Quarter.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
About this month's cover...
The longer I live in the French Quarter, the more people I have gotten to know. Locals are a tight group. Tough to imagine the small town feel when 10 million strangers a year crowd your local streets. Even on the most congested nights I can walk down Bourbon Street and get a nod from a dozen or so people who I call neighbors. Doormen, bouncers, street performers are all just people that you meet each day. Clint the strip club barker who has the persona of a River boat gambler, Chad the "Swamp Creature" performer and Disaster Dave doorman at Molly's. My day wouldn't feel complete unless I bump into somebody I like.
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans
When that's where you left your heart
And there's one thing more I miss the one I care for
More more than I miss New Orleans
When that's where you left your heart
And there's one thing more I miss the one I care for
More more than I miss New Orleans
One young lady who was perhaps the most highly regarded Shotgirl on all of Bourbon Street is a Facebook friend of mine. Moe has written some incredibly funny stuff for the magazine over the course of it's publication. She raised the bar for all future Shotgirls on Bourbon. Moe messaged me about how much she was missing New Orleans. Recently she had moved out west to pursue a career as a chef. She and her close friend Steph were homesick and meloncholy about the Quarter. Moe asked if I could do a cartoon of the two of them partying it up in the Quarter to cheer up Steph.
I'll do you one better, we'll put you two on this issue's cover. I'll admit I did "slutty" them up just for the cover. After all, this is the Quarter Rat and I am a creepy old guy. I hope you like the cover. Best of luck to you two young ladies, I know that you will return someday when it's time. This city will be even more special to you when you have gone without it for a while.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I'll be right back...
I've been busy, that's why I haven't been doing much writing. Lots of interesting things have happened, no time to tell you about them. Conversely, when I have time to write, life is boring. Seldom life is boring in the Quarter. If you need some interest in your life, just walk out your front door and there will be something waiting for you. Sometimes it's a parade coming down the center of your street, sometimes it's a chalk out line and police tape.
Some weekends you walk out and find a half million strangers shitfaced in your front yard. You remind yourself that these people pay your bills, tighten your emotional seatbelt and push through the party to run an errand. I went to an art opening / birthday party for Peter O'Neill a week ago. Great art, cool people and good wine. You know, wine that come with corks, not in boxes like my art openings. Before the gallery could be closed for the night there was one loose end. Some tourist passed out on the sidewalk in front.
From what I heard he had stumbled in shitfaced earlier, wondered out and got about eight feet. At closing the gallery manager and myself searched the blocks around the gallery to find a cop. None. If I had decided to piss behind a dumpster there would have been four. NOPD was called as we tried one last time to wake the guy. "Dude, you are about to have a very bad night unless you start walking." I told him. It's amazing how a flash light shining in the face a stern demand for I.D. will sober one up usually. You couldn't get this guy's attention with an M-80.
He was tossed into an ambulance as we departed the gallery, "Geeze, it's only just after 10:00." I busted on Peter for having someone taken away in an ambulance from his show. I was jealous, the best that ever happened at one of my openings was that I was bounced out for being too drunk and trashing the place. Just once.
Monday night I came home from work of physical labor after a long weekend. I crashed and burned until about 1:00 AM, waking up to just a half a pack of remaining smokes. I swear, I just went out for cigarettes. On Bourbon Street I ran into "Disastrous Dave and Catastrophe Curt." You can tell where this story is going. Remember from High School those boys that hung out behind the shop class smoking and constantly bitch slapping one another? Now fast forward 20 years and put them on Bourbon street with a good buzz going.
"Buy the ticket and take the ride..." Hunter S. Thompson once said. The secret to having a good time in the French Quarter is not going out to have a good time. The secret is to go out and try not have fun. Rowdy but well liked every place they went, I followed behind Dave and Curt as they just pushed through the crowds with loud voices and flailing arms. Like two middle aged versions of Steve - O, bar stools were over turned, drinks spilled and at least one almost fist fight with a street hustler. I would have been there just to watch for cops.
I spoke to Curt about the meaning of New Orleans. Locals can spend hours discussing the spiritual meaning behind living here. Trying to define the undefinable, describing the unseen. Curt struck upon the notion that there has to be some sort of magnetic anomaly here. We developed the "New Orleans, the G-Spot of the Earth theory." More research is still needed.
From Molly's to Erin Rose and back to Molly's. The best was in the back bar of Erin Rose where Jacob was working. After the second time he had to speak to the muppets for rough housing Jacob barked "Why don't you two just fuck and get it over with." PBR came out of my nose.
As the sun rose over the west bank I stumbled across Toulouse to unlock my gate. "Shit, I forgot to buy smokes."
From what I heard he had stumbled in shitfaced earlier, wondered out and got about eight feet. At closing the gallery manager and myself searched the blocks around the gallery to find a cop. None. If I had decided to piss behind a dumpster there would have been four. NOPD was called as we tried one last time to wake the guy. "Dude, you are about to have a very bad night unless you start walking." I told him. It's amazing how a flash light shining in the face a stern demand for I.D. will sober one up usually. You couldn't get this guy's attention with an M-80.
He was tossed into an ambulance as we departed the gallery, "Geeze, it's only just after 10:00." I busted on Peter for having someone taken away in an ambulance from his show. I was jealous, the best that ever happened at one of my openings was that I was bounced out for being too drunk and trashing the place. Just once.
Monday night I came home from work of physical labor after a long weekend. I crashed and burned until about 1:00 AM, waking up to just a half a pack of remaining smokes. I swear, I just went out for cigarettes. On Bourbon Street I ran into "Disastrous Dave and Catastrophe Curt." You can tell where this story is going. Remember from High School those boys that hung out behind the shop class smoking and constantly bitch slapping one another? Now fast forward 20 years and put them on Bourbon street with a good buzz going.
"Buy the ticket and take the ride..." Hunter S. Thompson once said. The secret to having a good time in the French Quarter is not going out to have a good time. The secret is to go out and try not have fun. Rowdy but well liked every place they went, I followed behind Dave and Curt as they just pushed through the crowds with loud voices and flailing arms. Like two middle aged versions of Steve - O, bar stools were over turned, drinks spilled and at least one almost fist fight with a street hustler. I would have been there just to watch for cops.
I spoke to Curt about the meaning of New Orleans. Locals can spend hours discussing the spiritual meaning behind living here. Trying to define the undefinable, describing the unseen. Curt struck upon the notion that there has to be some sort of magnetic anomaly here. We developed the "New Orleans, the G-Spot of the Earth theory." More research is still needed.
From Molly's to Erin Rose and back to Molly's. The best was in the back bar of Erin Rose where Jacob was working. After the second time he had to speak to the muppets for rough housing Jacob barked "Why don't you two just fuck and get it over with." PBR came out of my nose.
As the sun rose over the west bank I stumbled across Toulouse to unlock my gate. "Shit, I forgot to buy smokes."
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Easter Special
I have had people tell me "Oh you shouldn't publish your scripts on the internet, someone might steal them..." Well, once it appears on the web it's considered "Published Material" and therefore becomes copy written automatically. Besides if some one steals this one script idea, fine. I have hundreds more in my head and they obviously have none.
Thinking about animated series, I noticed they all do Holiday episodes. Charlie Brown has Christmas, Simpsons have Halloween, what's left? There hasn't been a good Easter cartoon since Davy and Goliath went off the air. This script is kind of like that.
"J.H.C."
Quarter Rat Easter Script
Starts with a sunrise service of a guy dressed as "The DUDE Lebowski" delivering the sermon on the mound speech on the river levee in the Quarter. Large group watching, including Lance, Jody and Binge. Everyone has cups and joints.
After the service the part take in the "Homeless Easter Egg Hunt" Everyone leaves money in brightly colored eggs around the Quarter for the homeless to find. Of course Binge drops his in disgusting places to be mean. Later it turns out he needs money quick or he's going to get his ass kicked. In desperation he is forced to dig through donkey crap, reach into urnials, and empty a soiled condom in order to cover his debt. The Dude keeps popping up with words about karma.
Leaving the hunt, Lance and Jody start to discuss brunch plans as the walk down the sidewalk. Ahead of them is a diner. Suddenly the windows explode from gun fire.
After the service the part take in the "Homeless Easter Egg Hunt" Everyone leaves money in brightly colored eggs around the Quarter for the homeless to find. Of course Binge drops his in disgusting places to be mean. Later it turns out he needs money quick or he's going to get his ass kicked. In desperation he is forced to dig through donkey crap, reach into urnials, and empty a soiled condom in order to cover his debt. The Dude keeps popping up with words about karma.
Leaving the hunt, Lance and Jody start to discuss brunch plans as the walk down the sidewalk. Ahead of them is a diner. Suddenly the windows explode from gun fire.
Lance
I love the omelets at this place. Last time...
I love the omelets at this place. Last time...
SFX
Pop pop pop
Glass shattering,
voices yelling angrily.
Lance pushes Jody between two parked SUVs,
shields her as he does.
Cut to the two between vehicles.
SFX
More shots,
yells.
Lance
Ok, the diner is out. Where do you want to go?
Ok, the diner is out. Where do you want to go?
SFX
Automatic gunfire burst
Jody
Frenchman sounds good right about now...
Lance
Frenchman? That's too far. How about some wings at "Daddy's Little Girl?"
Jody
You have got to be kidding?It is Easter Morning,
Frenchman sounds good right about now...
Lance
Frenchman? That's too far. How about some wings at "Daddy's Little Girl?"
Jody
You have got to be kidding?It is Easter Morning,
I am not going to a strip club for chicken wings. Try again big spender.
SFX Police sirens, horses galloping,
helicopters circling, bullhorns of cops
yelling DROP THE WEAPON
plays in the background of this
mundane conversation of a couple.
Lance
You know you love their hot wings and Bloody Maries.
Think about it, it will be the only place in the Quarter this morning not swamped by loud families
with out of control kids that you despise and always end up ruining your dining experience.
Jody
And you want to look at boobies on Easter.
Lance
They have them painted as Easter eggs.
You know you love their hot wings and Bloody Maries.
Think about it, it will be the only place in the Quarter this morning not swamped by loud families
with out of control kids that you despise and always end up ruining your dining experience.
Jody
And you want to look at boobies on Easter.
Lance
They have them painted as Easter eggs.
The two return to the sidewalk as gurneys are pushed past by EMS.
Cut to the interior of "Daddy's Lil Girl" club.
Both Lance and Jody have a huge plate of
wings and six Bloody Marys in front of them.
Lance
And three for one drinks.
Jody
(eating) These wings should have been at the last supper....
And three for one drinks.
Jody
(eating) These wings should have been at the last supper....
Dancers walk around with boobs painted like
brightly colored Easter eggs and bunny ears.
Jody rolls her eyes in disdain. Lance smirks.
A skinny, goofy dancer with bunny ears
and HUGE bucked teeth hops up to Jody.
Goofy dancer
Having fun? Enjoying your Easter?
Having fun? Enjoying your Easter?
Jody looks up, bursts out with stoned laughing.
Points to goofy dancer.
Jody
I LOVE the fake teeth. Totally works, Lance give her a dollar just for the extra effort in her bunny costume....
A shocked, hurt and tearful dancer looks
at Jody as her trembling hand removes the ears.
Tears roll down her cheeks.
Goofy Dancer
Just the ears and the boobs are fake. These are my real teeth... (Bursts into crying)
Just the ears and the boobs are fake. These are my real teeth... (Bursts into crying)
Dancer scurries off.
Jody sits there dumbfounded in embarrassment.
Lance
Damn girl, why ya such a hater?
Jody
OH MY GAWD! I did not mean that! I thought she was wearing those fake goofy teeth from the Mardi Gras Depot.
I never would have believed that a human could grow such appendages. Never in a million years would I ever...
Lance
You just hate her because she's skinny with fake boobs. Admit it.
Damn girl, why ya such a hater?
Jody
OH MY GAWD! I did not mean that! I thought she was wearing those fake goofy teeth from the Mardi Gras Depot.
I never would have believed that a human could grow such appendages. Never in a million years would I ever...
Lance
You just hate her because she's skinny with fake boobs. Admit it.
You saw her flaw and you zeroed in on it to rip her apart.
Jody
I did not! I was complimenting her efforts in a costume...
Lance
Let me bring Zoey over here so you can make fun of her big nose.
Or lets wait for Daisey to take the stage with her club foot....
Ya know, these dancers are people too, they have feelings.
They are not just pieces of meat for you to inspect and criticize...
Lance
Let me bring Zoey over here so you can make fun of her big nose.
Or lets wait for Daisey to take the stage with her club foot....
Ya know, these dancers are people too, they have feelings.
They are not just pieces of meat for you to inspect and criticize...
Jody
Stop it! I feel so bad right now. I made a dancer cry on Easter, I am going to hell.
Lance
Jesus died for dancers too. I read on line they had BRONZE poles back then.
Stop it! I feel so bad right now. I made a dancer cry on Easter, I am going to hell.
Lance
Jesus died for dancers too. I read on line they had BRONZE poles back then.
Goofy Dancer is sobbing in the background.
Second Dancer Zoey scurries over to Goofy
and comforts her.
Jody
I feel so bad right now...
Zoey
What happened?
Goofy Dancer
The fat bitch made fun of my teeth!
I feel so bad right now...
Zoey
What happened?
Goofy Dancer
The fat bitch made fun of my teeth!
Both dancers scowl at Jody.
Jody
Never mind, I don't feel so bad right now.
Never mind, I don't feel so bad right now.
Twinkles the dancer comes up to Lance.
She is wearing a white toga and a tinsel
"Crown of thorns."
Twinkles
Hey Lancey Pants! Going to stick around for our Easter Show? I play Hey Zeus!
Jody
Oh gawd! Could today get anymore blasphemous?
Twinkles
We have a cross thingy on stage and Athena will be playing a Roman Soldier....
Jody
Answers that question.
Hey Lancey Pants! Going to stick around for our Easter Show? I play Hey Zeus!
Jody
Oh gawd! Could today get anymore blasphemous?
Twinkles
We have a cross thingy on stage and Athena will be playing a Roman Soldier....
Jody
Answers that question.
Athena walks up dressed as a sexy Roman soldier / Dominatrix.
Athena
Oh Hi Lance and what her name. Have you seen the Binge?
Tell him that I miss my play toy and I want to model some new outfits for him.
Lance
What's the real reason?
Athena
(Abruptly angry, not seductive)
That sorry piece of dried DNA borrowed two hundred from me and hasn't paid me back yet.
Can you believe that I got taken by that wad of stupidity?
I mean if I let it slide and word got out, I'd have everyman in the Quarter owing me money.
That would be hundreds of men thinking that they can take advantage of innocent women. Tell Binge I'm looking for him.
Jody
We know. He's a jerk.
Lance
So, now you're attacking my friends now?
Athena
How dare you talk crap about one of the men who love me?
Oh Hi Lance and what her name. Have you seen the Binge?
Tell him that I miss my play toy and I want to model some new outfits for him.
Lance
What's the real reason?
Athena
(Abruptly angry, not seductive)
That sorry piece of dried DNA borrowed two hundred from me and hasn't paid me back yet.
Can you believe that I got taken by that wad of stupidity?
I mean if I let it slide and word got out, I'd have everyman in the Quarter owing me money.
That would be hundreds of men thinking that they can take advantage of innocent women. Tell Binge I'm looking for him.
Jody
We know. He's a jerk.
Lance
So, now you're attacking my friends now?
Athena
How dare you talk crap about one of the men who love me?
Lance
Tell me about it. She's been like this all morning. She even made fun of Zoey's nose.
Jody
I did not make fun of that dancer's huge nose...
Tell me about it. She's been like this all morning. She even made fun of Zoey's nose.
Jody
I did not make fun of that dancer's huge nose...
Jody turns to see Zoey standing behind her.
Jody cringes.
Zoey
Gawd Lance! What do you see in this bitch?
Lance
Starting ask myself that today too....
Gawd Lance! What do you see in this bitch?
Lance
Starting ask myself that today too....
Twinkles
Promise you'll stay for the show? I'll wave to ya from the wooden thingy.
Lance
Of course I promise.
Promise you'll stay for the show? I'll wave to ya from the wooden thingy.
Lance
Of course I promise.
They pinky promise.
Twinkles and Athena start to exit
Athena
I think I left my flog in the VIP room last night...
I think I left my flog in the VIP room last night...
Jody starts to stand
Jody
Can we go now?
Lance
(turning to the crowd)
Hey everybody, she got drunk, embarrassed herself, now she wants me to break a pinky promise with Twinkles....
Can we go now?
Lance
(turning to the crowd)
Hey everybody, she got drunk, embarrassed herself, now she wants me to break a pinky promise with Twinkles....
Group
Booooo!
Booooo!
Jody sits in humiliation.
Binge flops down besides her.
Binge flops down besides her.
Binge
Hey guys! Sure I'll join you.
(to bartender) Yea Bonnie, three of my usual, on his tab. What's new?
Lance
Well, I'm just trying to celebrate the most important and holiest Christian holiday, but Jody has ruined it by insulting all of the dancers.
Hey guys! Sure I'll join you.
(to bartender) Yea Bonnie, three of my usual, on his tab. What's new?
Lance
Well, I'm just trying to celebrate the most important and holiest Christian holiday, but Jody has ruined it by insulting all of the dancers.
You always ask why she has no hot single friends to hook you up with. She has none, this is why other women hate her so much.
Binge
Did she make fun of Daisy's foot? (disgust) Of all days too.
Binge
Did she make fun of Daisy's foot? (disgust) Of all days too.
This day is not about hate, we honor the death and erection of our Lord and Taylor.
But haters must hate. I told you dude, you never see this side of them until after you marry them.
You take her out for a traditional Easter morning breakfast and she starts calling Daisy "Hoof-Foot"
Daisy
(Walking up) WHO called me "Hoof - foot?"
But haters must hate. I told you dude, you never see this side of them until after you marry them.
You take her out for a traditional Easter morning breakfast and she starts calling Daisy "Hoof-Foot"
Daisy
(Walking up) WHO called me "Hoof - foot?"
Binge
She did.
Daisey
Better hope I don't follow you into the ladies room.
You'll get a hoof up the ass...
Jody
But I DIDN'T!
She did.
Daisey
Better hope I don't follow you into the ladies room.
You'll get a hoof up the ass...
Jody
But I DIDN'T!
Daisey
You know, I dance in front of hundreds of men a day. They never mention it.
Men like Binge are sensitive towards women feelings.
I don't know such a sweet man could be friends with such a witch.
Binge
I'm starting to ask myself that too lately sweetheart.
You know, I dance in front of hundreds of men a day. They never mention it.
Men like Binge are sensitive towards women feelings.
I don't know such a sweet man could be friends with such a witch.
Binge
I'm starting to ask myself that too lately sweetheart.
Bonnie the bartender over hears
conversation as she's bringing Binge his drinks.
conversation as she's bringing Binge his drinks.
Bonnie
Gingers have no souls...
Gingers have no souls...
Jody is furious by this point how everyone is attacking
her for something she didn't mean. She snaps at Bonnie.
her for something she didn't mean. She snaps at Bonnie.
Jody
At least my hair and boobs are real!
At least my hair and boobs are real!
Dead silence falls over the club.
Music stops, lights stop blinking.
Dancer stops mid slide, everyone
stares shocked at Jody.
Music stops, lights stop blinking.
Dancer stops mid slide, everyone
stares shocked at Jody.
Bonnie
(enraged and in tears)
OH RUB IT IN!
(enraged and in tears)
OH RUB IT IN!
Bonnie rips off her wig to show a shaved head.
Bonnie
I had hair as beautiful as yours until I lost it FROM CHEMO!
I had hair as beautiful as yours until I lost it FROM CHEMO!
Jody's jaw drops.
Bonnie
(shot from back)
You want to know for what?
(shot from back)
You want to know for what?
Rips open her blouse and two falsies pop out,
Binge catches one holds it up like a prize.
Binge catches one holds it up like a prize.
Bonnie
BREAST CANCER!
BREAST CANCER!
Binge and Lance slide down each direction away from Jody.
Pretend they don't know her.
Lance takes off his wedding ring and slips it into his pocket.
Jody starts to convulse, beet red, eyes tearing up, trembling.
Bonnie's falsey slides down the bar from Binge,
stops in front of Jody. She looks down,
Binge drew a sad face crying on it.
Pretend they don't know her.
Lance takes off his wedding ring and slips it into his pocket.
Jody starts to convulse, beet red, eyes tearing up, trembling.
Bonnie's falsey slides down the bar from Binge,
stops in front of Jody. She looks down,
Binge drew a sad face crying on it.
Lance
Oh, that reminds me, man... you better get out of here. A woman you love wants to kill you.
Binge
Can you be a little more specific?
Oh, that reminds me, man... you better get out of here. A woman you love wants to kill you.
Binge
Can you be a little more specific?
Suddenly a Roman spear flies past all three and sticks in the wall.
Binge
Athena?
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Big Weekend
Down in New Orleans good peoples they's hard to find
I bet he's making gumbo and drinkin' homemade wine
A jukebox shakin' and breakin' down in New Orleans
I'll be the highest hillbilly that Bourbon Street has ever seen
Kid Rock
Although there's not much planned for this weekend in the French Quarter, I'm looking forward to it. The rest of the month we have French Quarter Fest (April 12th to 15th) and Jazzfest (April 27th to May 08th.) Any local will tell you if you have company coming in to visit the Quarter, do it on a weekend when theres not an idiot convention in town. Last week was miserable with Kentucky fans.
I know its how we make our money in the French Quarter. Doctors make their money from sick people, it doesn't mean that they enjoy being around them all day. Dealing with people with contagious diseases, incoherent, comatose, bleeding, vomiting and lying in their own bodily waste, doctors and Quarter Rats call these people customers.
Except for a SLUTWALK and a few other smaller events, this should be a quiet weekend. Fortunately this is the weekend that my big brother from Las Vegas will be in town for a few days. My brother is about 11 years older than me so we never really spent a lot of time together growing up. When he was 17 he joined the U.S.A.F. for twenty years and settled in Vegas for retirement. I was trying to remember today if he and I have ever sat a bar together, I really never remember drinking with him. We have about 30 years of catching to do, I think the Quarter is the perfect place to start.
I'm really looking forward to showing off the French Quarter like she was my hot new girlfriend. Compiling lists of where to take him for food, booze and history. Where do you start? Of course Bourbon Street the first night, I'm thinking Frenchman Street on Saturday then he might be ready for Lower D on Sunday. Molly's, WW2 museum, Molly's, Clover Grill, Molly's, ferry to Old Algiers for a couple beers and a couple hundred other "must do's."
I mention the impending visit to a property manager that I was doing some work for today "How do you show someone who lives in Vegas a good time?" I asked. Sam, a many generation local who is very bright and well traveled replied. "Vegas is what it is, what makes New Orleans different from every place else is the history and the people." I'll try to make it a point not just to show my visitor the hundreds of landmarks, but introduce him to as many of my local friends as I can. That is for me the best part of the French Quarter, the people. Keep an eye open for us, even though he kind of looks like a cop, he's cool, he's with a Quarter Rat.
And if you're payin' for fun a french quarters really all you need
K.R
Thursday, March 29, 2012
It's been a while
Early morning walks up Bourbon Street to meet Cornell on Canal Street in front of the recently renovated JOY Theater to pick me up. I make it a point to say "Good Morning" to the statue of Ignatius J. Reilly. Bourbon Street at 7:00 am is busy with Quarter Rats cleaning up from the previous night's battle and rearming itself for the next night. Dozens of beer and liquor trucks with two men each delivering fresh ammo. Produce and food service trucks making deliveries as the morning crews hose off the icy slick brick sidewalks. The well worn bricks offer as much traction as packed snow when they get wet. If that doesn't present enough of a challenge to pedestrians, every step is aimed to avoid stepping in a crater of missing water meter covers or paving bricks. There are at least five potential personal injury lawsuits per block. Either the city doesn't care or never pays claims.
Early one morning about 4:30 am I was up and out of smokes. Like most people awake at that hour my main concern was feeding my addiction. At four in the morning however there would be people outside willing to kill to support their given habit. I strolled down Bourbon to find a place open with nicotine as barbacks dragged dozens of bottle clattering garbage cans out to the curb. Large rodents scurried about grabbing up dropped pizza crusts and chicken bones. I watched my back for any thug that might dart out from the shadows of a doorway to clock me in the head with a beer bottle with one hand as his other hand went for my wallet. I also had to watch my step as I navigated around numerous puddles of vomit. I looked down at a bright pink rice filled pile of vomit and commented to myself "Someone had Gumbo and Hurricanes last night."
Across Bourbon Street a van was parked with it's doors open and a thick hose led into a darkened strip club as the inside of the van whined with noise. Upholstery cleaner. He might be there for the rugs, but the odds are that right now at 4:30 am some poor guy was cleaning dried semen stains off of a red velor couch in the VIP room. Mike Rowe from the television show "Dirty Jobs" wouldn't last a day here.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Throw me some asprin mister!
Well, it's over. I got to experience Mardi Gras at ground zero. I worked as a doorman at Molly's, tossed beads from a balcony, drank a little too much and got a lap dance from a 70 year old woman. I really didn't take in any parades to speak of, a little too chilly out for me. Besides it's a crowd thing that I can't cope with.
Fats Domino - Mardi Gras To New Orleans
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Most of my friends in the Quarter had to work through out the past week. Otis would finish his graveyard shift at 6 am and take his 2 year old daughter out to parades during the day. Most of the Quarter Rats I spoke to said that this was one of the slowest carnival seasons that they could remember. All said they made much better money on New Years Eve.
Things were so slow this year, when you threw beads, women only flashed one boob.
The streets were still packed with revelers in costumes. I wandered down Royal Street for my daily exercise. Ok, for smokes and energy drinks. I loved the costumes. This city always has a surreal atmosphere, but during this season costumes seem the norm. Simple errands become adventures.
This guy in the Dallas cheerleader costume I saw all weekend long when I worked at Molly's. He always made me chuckle, more than the midget in a Superman costume being pushed around in a shopping cart. When this guy walked by the balcony on Fat Tuesday I had to ask him to stop for a photo.
In another two months the FEMA float will be here.
What? Do you mean that you don't pass couples like this on the way to the supermarket in your town? I guess living here takes some of the magic out of it for me. When I first got down here I had roomamtes who spoke of this as some sort of religious / magical event. Perhaps they over sold it, To be honest, I think it's over rated and the city places too much of it's identity in the event. I understand it's business, the tourist buck pumping up our economy before the slump of summer.
The real magic of the French Quarter is here year round. There is so much that this city can boast about besides being a Mecca for the annual pilgrimage of alcoholics. Mardi Gras does bring this city closer together. When Ash Wednesday finally gets here, front end loaders are used to scoop up tons upon tons of garbage, fire trucks are used to hose the vomit from the streets and sidewalks. Everyone sighs collectively.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Guess what I did last night...
I worked. My editor Otis asked if I would be interested working as the door guy at Molly's on Toulouse for a couple of nights during Mardi Gras. Having no social life to speak of (by choice) I said sure if for no other reason than the chance to say I had done it. The only vocational experience I had to draw from was driving cab at night on the Jersey Shore, this was a lot easier and safer. Safer because I had other staff and all of the local regulars to cover me if any shit went down. Driving cab alone with one or more belligerent drunks sitting behind you can hang your ass out to dry.
Fortunately both nights were pretty mellow, no trouble to speak of. I had made my mind up that any if any shit went down that I would dive in. I'm not sure how much help a 170 pounds of arthritis would be in a bar fight, but we are Quarter Rats. We look after our own. Being so skinny, I can't really stop a bullet but I might be able to slow it down.
Molly's was one of the first bars I ever went to in the French Quarter and I even ended up living across the street from it when I finally settled in the Quarter. A cool local haunt with plenty of characters that is a stones throw from Bourbon Street. Knowing a few of the bartenders made it easier on the new job and a few of the regulars came over with their drinks to keep me company and give me some pointers. I stood in the doorway from 10 PM to 3 AM watching the mass of madness swirl past down on Bourbon. Small groups would splinter off heading towards me on Toulouse. I immediately tried to figure if they should show I.D. or not, if they were just looking for a bathroom or were too drunk to be allowed in.
Protecting our bathroom was my primary duty. Across the street next to the Tropical Island the city set up a couple of port o johns. At one point I looked over and some guy was standing next to one, pissing on the outside of it. All night long women in their late teens were coming up to me with thighs clenched and bodies jiggling. "You gots a bafroom?"
"Must be twenty one, one drink minimum."
"Just to use your bafroom?"
"Yes, customers only. Look , there's port o johns across the street."
"I don't wanna use dem, there's a line and deys nasty."
"So you you want us to open up our restrooms to the non paying public so ours become as equally congested and unsanitary?"
"Uh, yea..."
"Must be twenty one, one drink minimum."
"Yo a asshole."
"That's what my ex says too, have a goodnight."
I met a lot of cool folks, some where Molly regulars, others were visitors from around the country. Two very young attractive ladies wearing bustiers, boots and fishnets walked up to the door. I asked for ID's, and by their reactions I could tell they were regulars who worked as shotgirls on Bourbon. They were polite realizing that I was new and just doing my job. The one dumped out her boot containing her cell phone, rolling papers and driver's license. They sat by the door and we chatted about the craziness. The two shotgirls would come into Molly's every couple of hours to escape the insanity of the front line. Upon their last exit, one turns and hands me a few singles. "Wait, young, attractive women in fishnets are handing ME singles? I like this job."
The five and six hours shifts flew by as I stood on the stoop watching the real Mardi Gras parade pass by. Ridiculous hats, costumes and tourists with so many strings of beads around their necks that it just added to the power of gravity trying to pull them down to the vomit slick payment. A constant stream of young slutty dressed women flowed in and out of the Dungeon next door, "Oh, that's where they come from."
Before my shift I went up Royal to Unique Groceries for three $.99 Rip It energy drinks and a pack of smokes for my shift. My first night at Mollys I worked my whole shift just having just energy drinks. A few drinks were offered during the night, but I declined. As much as I feel at home in this city, as much as I feel like I belong in the French Quarter, the one way that I feel like an outsider is that I don't enjoy drinking. It's kind of like joining the Navy when you don't enjoy the water.
My second night I was a bit more relaxed so I said yes to everything offered. Two Spanish dudes from Texas bought me a shot of Tequila because they thought I was "Cool as hell." I always had a good rapport with drunk Mexicans when I drove cab. I'll take three drunk Mexicans over one drunk Italian any day. Drunk Australians are hit or miss as tourists. I had a couple bad experiences with them while driving cab. I met one last night that improved their grade curve.
While driving cab, I always had to be on the look out for drunkards trying to sneak drinks into my cab. Weekends in the summer that was a constant aggravation. Arguments like: "I won't spill it" "I can drink in a limo" "It's only water" "You need to lighten up" "No tip for you asshole" Last night gave me flashbacks. I was amazed how many people thought that they could bring full drinks into a crowded bar. Try to bring a plate of food into a restaurant and reply when stopped, "Oh we're going to buy dessert here." And those GODDAMN Green Handgrenades drinks. Walking up to a doorman while holding one of those is like wearing a T-Shirt that says "I'm a fucking idiot."
 |
| The view out my office window, a costumed midget in a shopping cart. |
Twice the bartenders came over and reminded me to keep an eye open on people bringing drinks in. I couldn't understand how they got past me. I made it a point to look at the hands of everyone coming in. It's tough to give a once over look to revelers wearing sequin alligator hats and with so many beads that it looks like they're wearing a gay life preserver. Strands of beads dangling with throw cups, coconuts, dildoes and blinking lights on them. I ain't no TSA agent. Then I figure how the sneaky bastards were doing it. A group would come up, I'd be checking ages in the doorway as the ones outside were handing the drinks to the ones inside through the open window. You muthafuckas.
I saw them coming up Toulouse. A snotty, whorish dressed rich girl texting on a smarter than her phone. Her frat boy companion who you could tell the only thought bouncing around in his alcohol soaked brain was "YES! I'm going to get laid tonight!" Both had three quarter full cups of beer. She looked like she down the rest of hers in one gulp. This girl made Snookie look like Mary Tyler Moore. They came up to Mollys and looked in, and both knew that it was probably the least crowded and most reasonably priced place this close to Bourbon Street. As I check the ID's I mention that they can't bring in outside drinks.
She snaps in that spoiled bitch tone. "WHAT? Are you for real?"
"No. I am a hologram telling you that you can't bring in outside drinks."
"You're an ASSHOLE."
They hang out front sipping their beers, she is texting on her phone as he's rubbing her lower back staring at her 22 year old boobs. They spin around and slam thier half full cups of beer into the large garbage can outside of our door splattering me with slop from the can. I imeadiatly step to my left blocking the very narrow doorway.
"Sorry, you can't come in."
Her expression was like I just kicked her in the twat.
"WHAT?! We got rid of our drinks like you asked!"
"You called me an asshole. I don't have to let in anyone who calls a staff member an asshole."
Her boyfriend rolled his eyes realizing they just tossed $6 in beer and I am putting her in such a lousy mood he probably won't be getting any from her all night. He had to restrain her from slugging me.
"OH! You're a FUCKING ASSHOLE!"
"Yep, that's what my ex says too. Goodnight."
Monday, February 13, 2012
Louie Louie
Friday night the Quarter Rat delivered the lattest issue (#26) to all of the finer drinking establishments in the French Quarter. Like the previous times the copies were dropped off by topless girls with their breasts painted in festive Mardi Gras themes. We started out with ten lovelies, I think only three managed to finish the route. One didn't even make it out of the first bar. Rather than writing about the night in my blog like I usually do, we videotaped the entire adventure. I know we should be able to edit it down to at least 30 minutes of non stop debauchery, nudity, stupidity and fun.
As Otis and I were unloading cases of the magazines from his car, I looked up across the street and famed street mime "Uncle Louie" was walking by with his bucket from working all day on Royal Street. It just turned out that Uncle Louie made the cover of this month's Quarter Rat. I grabbed a handful of copies for him and went over to hand them to him. I'll admit that I couldn't wait to see his reaction. Anyone who has visited the French Quarter has seen Louie in his pristine white suit posing on Royal, anyone who lives in the Quarter has shaken his hand and probably had a drink or two with him. A real cool man who is a staple to the French Quarter.
We had to videotape the evening because I really don't think anyone outside of the Quarter believes the stuff I write about. We couldn't get our buddy Zan and his pedicar to help deliver the boxes this time around. Zan said that he had a wheel fall off or something. (Personally, we think his wife got tired of him peddling up and down Bourbon Street with topless young women. We're not sayin, just sayin.) So I dressed up like a homeless guy and pushed a shopping cart around the Quarter loaded with cases of magazines. At one point on Lower Decatur Street I passed an actual homeless guy with a shopping cart loaded with personal belongings. Awkward at first, I had to comment to him about his cart "Nice model, what year is it?"
Towards the end of the night we had to meet up with the remaining girls and the rest of our krewe at the Ginger Lime Japanese restaurant at 200 Decatur. They treated us great with fantastic food. I vaguely remember eating sushi off of a couple of the women. We had a few block to travel to get there so we broke up into small groups and hopped into Pedicabs for the journey. I however was stuck with a shopping cart loaded with magazines and almost had to walk. Otis yelled "Styles! Sit on your cart and hang on to the back of the Pedicab and he'll tow you." So, dressed like a homeless guy I was towed behind one of the bikes down several blocks of Royal Street. All night I had been rolling ontop of the shopping cart. It was like "Jackass on Bourbon Street" I did take a spill when the front wheels of the cart dug into a pothole. You'll have to wait for the video.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Don't let the parade pass you by
I listened to the parade pass by a hundred feet or so away as I finished up this month's cover. No loss, I don't do crowds well. Especially down here, a few gun shots and you find yourself caught in a stampede of stomping alcoholics. If the crowd doesn't crush you, the response of mounted cops will finish you off with 3,000 pounds of horse.
I went out briefly after the parade and my work was done. Kind of how you go out and inspect the neighborhood after a severe tropical storm. I brought my pastels to offer my services as a "Police Chalk Outline Artist." I'll get a navy blue windbreaker with PCOA on the back in big yellow letters. The scary part about going out last night, I didn't see anything unusual. By French Quarter standards of "usual."
Here is a cool site, www.mardigrasneworleans.com. You can find schedules and parade routes as well as history and backgrounds on the different Krewes.
Here is a cool site, www.mardigrasneworleans.com. You can find schedules and parade routes as well as history and backgrounds on the different Krewes.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Hey, I know that place....
Here is some background art to the animation that I am working on. Originally I was just going to do just a minute or so of very rough animation to demonstrate the look of the show. Of course it soon evolved into a four minute cartoon of continuous sight gags. Since we are still somewhat up in the air as far as the voice actors and sound production, we had to deliver on the visuals. The cartoon kind of plays out like the Old "Pink Panther" cartoons. Our protangonist just trying to walk from one end of Bourbon Street to the other.As you can tell, we are trying to put as much local flavor and characters into the show. Not just for those who live here, but so somewhere one of the tens of millions visitors who have spent time in the French Quarter will point to the screen and say "I've seen that."
I have a greater appreciation for the labor involved in animation. One scene Otis and I included needed a galloping police horse complete with a mounted cop firing his weapon. Just the horse and gallop took me about 6 - 8 hours to complete. If that wasn't enough we added a swinging brass band, a running Baron Somalia, SWAT teams, gun battles and a huge chaotic finale. John Landis would find this final scene a challenge to direct. I am limited with the software that I have at my disposal. Photoshop and I-Movie is about all that I have to work with right now. The purpose of this short is to create interest for future funding of the 23 minute pilot. We have at least a dozen scripts written, and when Otis and I team up with the proper motivation, plots and punch lines come faster than we can write them down.
Here is one of the locations in the story line, a Bourbon Street strip club named "Barely Sane." The romantic interest of the lead character works there. Athena DeCruelle, B-movie actress turn fetish model, turned dancer and dominatrix. Don't expect a dumb bimbo type of lady. Athena is a shrewd, manipulative and brilliant woman of Bourbon Street. Granted, she's sleeping around with about half of the men in the French Quarter, but only one man truly loves her, this is his story. I won't make any promises on a delivery date for the finished product, I won't debut it until it's ready. Someday I may have to face deadlines, hopefully by then we'll have a budget and a staff to yell at. Tuesday, January 24, 2012
I changed my mind, I don't like football after all...
I have written in previous posts that I never got into the sport of football. Never played it, never followed it and never even watched a game until I moved to Who Dat turf. I kind of appreciated the sense of community and how it brings this city into harmony. Recent events have made me reconsider that perhaps my first disdain for the sport was correct.
I can't get the whole college football fanatisism unless you ACTUALLY attended the college. I was talking about LSU fans with the security guard down at the Pontalba building. I mentioned being originally from New Jersey, I never imagined that an entire state of non-alumni would give two shits about the college team. Back in Jersey no one but a Rutgers graduate would even watch a Crimson Knights game. I don't even know the name of Princeton's team, as many times as have been in Princeton NJ. The guard chuckled about how big college football is in the south. "We're big on all football down here. Mississip, Bama, Texans are the worst. Your Ivy leages don't turn out football players, they turn out millionaires."
For those of you outside of the Big Easy, you may or may not have heard about an incident that took place here in the French Quarter the night of a rival game between Alabama and LSU. Alabama fans flooded into the Quarter to watch the game, I listened all night to cheers and hoots from Bourbon Street fifty feet away from my balcony. Alabama won the game, so the LSU fans who out numbered the rivals 10 to 1 in the Quarter drank themselves stupid. I sincerely expected some form of violence that night. LSU fans down here take their team more seriously than careers or families., I believe a small percentage of the team's fans couldn't spell L-S-U. I could drive you around New Orleans and point out houses painted the purple and gold team colors. During the day of the game, several vintage cars painted LSU colors cruised through the Quarter.
So following the LSU loss, Alabama (I was surprised to hear that they had a college) rejoiced and celebrated through out the Quarter as Tiger fans drank themselves unconscious. This is the story of one of them. Synopsis of what happened: A LSU fan passed out at the Krystal Burger in the 100 block of Bourbon. That block is by far the most notorious and usually the most dangerous. Most of the high profile shootings took place in front of the Krystal Burger joint. The chalk outlines of the fallen are washed away by urine with in hours. The Krystal is like a 24 hour White Castle style place with counters at the windows that overlook Hustler Hollywood's storefront. As you dine on sliders, you can gaze upon mannequins dressed in S&M garb with each other on leashes. I'm not exaggerating any of this.
The LSU fan passed out at the window counter after one too many Handgrenades. First of all, he was an idiot with lousy friends. To get passed out drunk on Bourbon with no one trustworthy enough to watch your back is asking for trouble. He's lucky that he didn't wander down to Burgundy to pass out. If he had, he may not have woken up, or if he did wake up he probably would have been naked and covered with excrement of the homeless. Instead, he was discovered by Alabama fans exiting the Krystal. Garbage was left on him, water dumped on him, what you might expect from individuals who follow the careers of football players more than their own career advances.
One of the Alabama fans, Brian Downing, 32, evidently the closet homosexual of the group decides to whip out his junk and start to simulate sex with the unconscious LSU fan's ear by climbing up on a nearby chair. Yea, when I'm out drinking with my buddies, we are always trying to see who's penis is small enough to fit in another man's ear. Due to the lack of motor skills and judgment, the ear rapist Mr Downing slips making full facial contact with the man in the purple and gold. After he finished rubbing his male genitals on the face of an unwilling victim, Downing stood in the middle of the restaurant with penis still exposed as his friends cheered.
Mr. Downing, understandably growing up in Alabama has forced you to feel the need to remain in the closet about your homosexuality. There were better ways to out yourself. If you were so drunk that you felt able to express yourself in front of your friends, then you should have gone down a few blocks to St Ann Street. There you could have found dozens of WILLING partners who would have been more than happy to allow you to rub your penis all over them, and they would have precipitated to teabagging on your face. Perhaps your future cellmate will be a LSU fan who will help you discover yourself in a healthier fashion.
Ironically, in High School I was bullied by the jocks who called me a fagot because I never played sports and liked art. I never tried to penetrate the ear of a rival artist with my penis.
Ironically, in High School I was bullied by the jocks who called me a fagot because I never played sports and liked art. I never tried to penetrate the ear of a rival artist with my penis.
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