Sunday, October 6, 2013

Damnit, I am gonna do it. (Oh, and: BE AFRAID!)

So, who the hell fucking knows where this (blog) is going--if anywhere. (And likely it isn't. Let's be honest.) But, I like writing, so let's do this shysa! Besides, it is all in good fun. And who the mother-truck doesn't like fun?!

Anycow, I promised NOLA pictures, and this is just a sneak-peak. (SO MUCH SHYTE TO GET UP HERE!) The following picture, well...I have commentary, but I don't think I can possibly "introduce" it. There is no damn preparation. I sure as shit didn't get any.

Sitting in a bar in NOLA with Chaseycakes, our first night there, after 14 hours of travel...and we stumble upon a "drinking festival" of sorts. Some sort of international group that gathers to get piss drunk and they all have steins and necklaces (and some of them have vests). It was kind of like a "biker gang" for heavy drinkers that don't like to drive.

Anycow. Among them was a gent (so to speak), with long hair and wizard-ey looking robes, that (as it turned out) had tattoos of...ummm...note? So, without further ado...

The Rape-iest Tattoo EVER.

The orange blur in the lower right hand corner is Minkey. He is an Anxiety Monkey. You will hear more about him soon. He works hard for the money. So you better treat him right.

AND. (For the record.) He did not touch that tattoo. No one did. At least not in my camp. I think it is some weird rapey voodoo curse thing. If you see it, I would recommend not touching it. (Minkey sure as shit wasn't gonna "touch it.")

Another "gent" we met was named "Lamb." That is what his necklace and the lanyard on his stein said. This is him, attempting to lick Minkey.


Suffice it to say, although Lamb was perfectly pleasant--fun, even--I was not going to allow him to lick my Anxiety Monkey. He could lick himself. His nose, if he was so inclined--which apparently he was...
That's right, back the tongue away from the Minkey...

Lamb was actually pretty pleasant. Funny, enjoyable...not the sort of person you tell what hotel you are staying in, but perfectly lovely. I am sure he would have loved to make time with Chaseycakes--that was obviously not happening--but his real goal seemed to be the leftover food on our plates. Amusingly, this particular festival/crawl's participants seem to spend their nights on  random resident's floors and feed themselves by scrounging fries and abandoned food. Good for them, I suppose.

As Lamb explained it, by avoiding paying for room or board, it allows the patrons of the festival/group to travel almost constantly and work rarely. As it happens, I never eat as much food as a restaurant gives me, and I rarely take food back to hotels when I am traveling--so they got half a dinner. Good for them. Wish I could do it--but that lifestyle just isn't for me.

So, more to come. No more rape-ey tattoos, though. Though definitely some possible whores (with all respect, just listing a profession--not a judgement), and some certain (or nearly) whore-houses. It may have come to pass that Minkey and I swung around the stripper-pole at a whore-house. Maybe.

I guess you will have to wait and see.