the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Bon Ton Groo-Vay

In honor of Mardi Gras, which is a really just an excuse to get stinkin' drunk and show your tits, I'd like to share some of my impressions of New Orleans.

  • I had never seen a person walk down the street at a fairly normal pace whilst vomiting profusely, not until my first visit to Bourbon Street. In the time I watched this guy with horrified fascination, he must've donated at least three pitchers to the party in the gutters. Even worse, I saw him shortly thereafter with a fresh beer in hand. I waved at the beer and shouted, "Be seein' you soon!"
  • Sometimes touching human dramas unfold right before your eyes; such is the magic of Bourbon Street. As Jim and I watched from the stability of a blessedly sturdy lamp post, a pair of folks who seemed to be mother and son -- he didn't look to be more than sixteen or so -- wandered into the vicinity of a drag bar across the road. They were both blonde and barefoot, and mom was definitely going for the Ellie Mae Clampett look, down to the hairdo and the red checkered halter top. It probably looked a little more Ellie Mae on her about fifteen years ago. As trailer mom and junior paused to watch the revelers pass, a very large black drag queen made her way purposefully toward the barefoot boy, and as junior slipped his arm in a most familar manner around Dragzilla, it was apparent that they were, uh, acquainted. Now, some of the performers in the drag bar hang out by the door to drum up business, and the ones they post out front are the most successful transformations. I was born female, and I will never, ever look as good as some of those drag queens. Bitches. Dragzilla, however, was pretty obviously a hulking man in a dress and wig, but junior didn't seem to mind a bit. Then mom turned around, and immediately took a most disapproving attitude. By that, I mean she started shouting shrill obscenities, and then this little hillbilly woman with no shoes began to chase the giant drag queen down Bourbon Street, with possibly the only glass bottle on the block clutched in her hand and brandished for immediate smackdown. Dragzilla, I must say, made amazing speed while wearing heels, but the barefoot cuntessa was bound to gain on her. Luckily, brains conquered speed, and Dragzilla was able to duck into another bar (probably one that required shoes) and lost the little mama who was so ready to do battle armed with a backwash-coated Bud bottle and a hearty rebel yell.
  • I'm not sure I would have actually gone through with it, because I'd hate to end up on late-night TV as part of the Frumpy Old Bitches Gone Wild video promotion, but I was kind of half hoping someone would give me the traditional "Show me your tits!" greeting. As much time as I spent hoofing it through the French Quarter, no one seemed inclined to encourage my brief and partial nudity. And really, I was okay with it, until the day I was standing next to a 70-year-old woman, and the guys on the balcony were begging to see her hooters for some sweet beads. I, apparently, was Officially Chopped Liver.
Enjoy your Fat Tuesday, all y'all. Make some King cake, toss some beads, drink enough beer for a whole Krewe, show your tits (and I don't just mean the girls), eat a dozen paczkis, make sweet love (or engage in hot anal sex, if sweet love is out of the question), make sweet love to a pazcki. . .and, most of all, let the good times fuckin' roll!

14 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

I was gonna toss my beads until I decided how much that might hurt. I flashed my tits, but not a soul here to see them but the dog and he's not impressed.

10:45 PM, February 08, 2005  
Blogger Bucky Four-Eyes said...

Dogs only *pretend* to be unimpressed. On the inside, he was going "Wow, my dad's boDAcious!"

8:04 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Girl.A said...

I only show my tits for anal beads.

Anal beads that are still sealed in the original packing material.

8:22 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Bucky Four-Eyes said...

Wow. Girl.A, remind me to stop by and pick you up on my way to New Orleans next time. You understand the true meaning of "party."

8:37 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

I'm impressed that Girl.A knows the meaning of good packaging. Nothing worse than having to tell someone, Your Packaging Sucks!! Now, I'm not afraid to do that, I do it all the time....

9:24 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

I was wondering if you'd have a New Orleans post for Mardi Gras. Would Jim have been mad if had been able to "earn" some beads?

11:40 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Squirl said...

That was supposed to be if YOU had earned some beads. Gotta quit trying to multi-task. Can't walk and chew gum. :-)

11:44 AM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Colleen said...

"barefoot cuntessa"

heh heh heh ...

egad, I put my face in the gutter once. ew.

5:08 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger PlazaJen said...

Uh, am I the only one freaking out that someone was walking BAREFOOT in the same 10-mile-stretch of someone who was projective vomiting in the street? Eesh, eesh, eesh! You better have Hobbit feet if you're partaking in that stroll. And as a copycat, competitive puker (I see someone puke, I too, must puke. Usually harder, usually more violently...)I think, "Self, we're not cut out for Mardis Gras...."

5:14 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Bucky Four-Eyes said...

I think Jim might've forgiven me a quick flash, though I'd likely have gone gutless if anyone had actually asked. Or he would've dragged me home by the nipples. One or the other.

Luckily, I'm not usually a pass-it-on puker myself, which renders me able to witness the natural phenomenon without actually becoming a part of it. Unlike that bastard Marlin Perkins.

8:38 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger greatwhitebear said...

S.U.Y.T.......PLEASE!

8:39 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

Well, you know, he did say please. :)

8:44 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Bucky Four-Eyes said...

A polite request always falls on more receptive ears. Nice to know you boys have such durn good manners!

Greatwhite -- still.no.spacebar?

8:55 PM, February 09, 2005  
Blogger Balulah said...

Alright, any mention of anal beads and I immediately picture a man or woman (I'm not biased) with a pull start.

Secondly, any mention of anal beads and "original packing material" brings me right to a picture of a carefully wound lawn mower pull start, decorated with fancy beads (of course), in a nice little clear package.

Isn't it funny how Madonna always seems to be near anal beads?

4:16 PM, February 17, 2005  

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