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Published: February 8th 2010
Ian the Jester
Ian was the king of Bourbon street on Super Bowl Sunday. He's showing a prized Krewe bead he just caught.
Big Post for Big Times
Well, we had quite a weekend in New Orleans. Did you hear that the Saints won the Big One?
My ears are still ringing from the revelry. I've never seen a city erupt like this and I might never again.
I've been in Europe when the Wall Fell. I was in Asia when Hong Kong went back to China. But I've never seen anything like this. Some people have compared the euphoria to the relief people feel after a tyrant has been overthrown. I have never seen a town go up like this.
THE SAINTS WON THE SUPER BOWL!
That's what we heard on the streets afterwards. The city was and still is out of its head. People are ecstatic about the victory and the city knew it was going to be exceptional if the Saints won or lost.
The schools are closed. The city is in an uproar until the Saints come home tomorrow.
Warning - this blog post features beads, boobs, bitches, lesbians, and lots of people - including my cousins and over 100,000 friends. Enjoy the post and you might
Ian landed this fish in the net. Mashay is from South Dakota and has been living in Pensacola for a few years. "Throw me some beads Mista!" is the way to get beads here.
want to keep any young eyes away from the screen if they're sensitive to exposed breasts of all kinds.
Please don't read on if you are easily offended - or even difficult to offend. It's your option if you want to go down this rabbit hole.
Cuzzins in the House
The weekend started with my cousins Ian and Alisha coming to New Orleans with Ian's fiancee Mashay and T-Time - their friend Thomas. We went to our first parade around dark and started using my new contraption to catch beads. I got a nice fishing net and attached a foam poster to. Then I drew HIT ME MISTA on the poster. I saw this trick at the last parade and it's good way of attracting the attention of the bead throwers. They're looking out on a sea of people and you have to do something to stand out from the crowd if you want an unreasonable amount of beads.
I already stand out above the crowd, but I wanted my costume to distinguish me a little more. I'm going for the purple pimp look with a purple velvet-like trench coat and my purple velvet-like hat.
Pimp Daddy and Big Hair
I'm on duty to catch beads. The bead catcher worked really well because they'd single me out of the crowd and hit me.
I've decorated the hat with a naked lady with blinking red, LED nipples, black condoms, and a few other odds and ends. My costume is almost complete now and I've got another week to work on the finishing touches. To top the costume off, I trimmed my full beard into some nice chops and a fu man chu moustache. I was pretty pleased when people started coming up to me and asking to pose with me for a picture for the scrap book.
A funner and simpler costume though is what Ian wore. He saw my curly blonde wig and went for it. This simple springy wig turns any mere mortal into a superstar with one quick flip. All the girls were swarming him and wanting to touch his long curly hair. Now I know why my nephew Corey grows his hair out this way.
After a couple of parades and loads of beads (I probably collected 10 pounds of them), cups and stuffed animals, our posse headed down to Bourbon Street. Around 9pm, it seemed like a typical Saturday night on Bourbon, but around 10, busloads of people poured into the street as if Prohibition had just
I don't know why the girl on the float was so sad. This is a typical float with a load of guys untangling beads and throwing them as fast as they can.
ended. All the crazies came out.
I read how the hotels all filled up right after the Saints got into the Super Bowl. The NFC Championship celebration on Bourbon was national news and people came from hundreds of miles around to get a little Mardi Gras action with a Super Bowl to boot. A wicked and historic event when combined in the Big Easy.
Check out the pix for the gory details of the evening. While I did see some playboy-quality breasts in the flesh, it was hard to have the camera in position before a swarm of people surrounded them and someone's hand or camera was thrust into the frame.
Some of the women had perfected the flashing technique and could flash in 4 milliseconds and make off with the beads before a single photo was shot. A lot of flashing technique came down to what kind of top they were wearing - so please consider the ease of exposure if you're going to Nawlins and want to flash.
The weather for the flashing was prime optimal as well. While the 45 degree air was rather nipply, many girls had several layers on and it I
Fist Full of Beads
I'm holding a fist full of booty with Mashay. Ian is sporting my wig that he took a liking to and Alisha and T-Time are chillin.
felt bad for them when they really had to struggle to get their shirts off amidst a tangle of beads. It's hard work out there.
Being a voyeur photographer wasn't easy either. My hands got cold because I couldn't work the shutter with my gloves on. But I perservered for my readers and you get to see the benefits of my labor.
Most flashing ladies were semi-professional exhibitionists and just having a good time. Some really hoped Larry Flynt would spot them on Bourbon or that they could make an Old Ladies Gone Wild video, but only a lucky few get this disparaging honor. All of them were drunk and many would try and coerce beads for no display. The standards on Bourbon Street have really fallen and many women only have to scream and jump and yell for a nice strand of beads. Some of the veterans don't even want the beads since they might clash with their outfits or constrict their flashing later.
All of the rookies and unjaded want the beads though. Guys like Peter Minuit have known this for years. He's the guy that bought Manhattan island for a chest of beads, buttons
This is a staple car of Boubon Street. Chucky is in the back with Saints regalia.
and trinkets. People go crazy for them day and night. To prove my point, I have posted many pictures of outstretched hands and hoarse voices calling out for beads. People, including me will do about anything for a loop of string with some plastic on them. It's really insane.
I missed a few parades on Friday when I flew back from San Fran and picked up the RV. (All signs of the wreck have been erased and the RV is ready for summer and a trip across the planes to Cali.) We only saw 2 of the 6 parades on Saturday and we planned to see two more on Sunday. You can't see them all because you'd have to be in two places at the same time - breaking a fundamental law of physics - so you have to choose the right parade.
We went to one and ended up leaving so that we could see Barkus - the dog parade. Barkus is a spin off Bacchus - the Roman god of wine and intoxication. This isn't even an official Mardi Gras parade because no krewe hosts it, but it's still a lot of fun.
I was taking the shot of the girl in the middle with the arched back working for some beads. Some guy moved his hand in front of her boob so you can barely see her exposed chest.
This parade was well attended and held in the confined streets of the gay district of the French Quarter. It was difficult to get good shots when I was three rows back, but I did my best - see pix.
After Barkus, it was about 2:30 before we started heading to Ryan's Irish Pub to watch the game. The only thing that lay between us and Ryan's was a long stretch of Bourbon Street. Throngs of people had amassed for the game and revelers were packed on Bourbon. Loads of people were hanging from the balconies and beads were flying in all directions. I didn't see any breasts though in the brigh light of the winter sun, but everyone was in great spirits in anticipation for the game. WHO DAT rang out in the streets and it was a glorious day that would shine on the people and players of New Orleans.
We made it to Ryan's and all the booths and bar stools were taken 5 hours before kickoff. I posted up against one of the beams of a booth so that I could weather the storm through the expected sea of people. I also did this
This girl was reverse bead collecting from the balcony. She would flash the crowd and beads would be thrown up to her. Then they would be thrown down.
so that I wouldn't block the view of the people behind me. The bar was packed like sardines and most people going to the bathroom wanted to go in front of me and step on my feet. The tops of my shoes are stained with bar juice from the bottom of their feet. Bar juice is the accumulation of Guinness, mixed drinks, spit, cum and ashes that keeps your feet stuck to the floor in Ryan's. While Ryan's isn't very cleant, tt was still the place to be and I had a good view of a flatscreen TV for the game.
The game was still a couple of hours away though, so I got to know my neighbors. I was talking to Ben David and his girls when I noticed a scraggly blonde outside the bar. She was bent over a car that was stuck in traffic and exposing herself to the driver. Her tits where pressed into the drivers window and she wasn't very quick about pulling her top up when she spun around. She had a slutty, Courtney Love look about her and she was definitely whacked from the look in her eyes. She went back a
This is how men work for beads here. I never saw any peckers but I did see some pubes. I mainly took this to show you the popular FU*K THE COLTS shirt.
second time and shoved her tits in the drivers face again and the passengers were taking loads of pictures. I knew that she was worthy blog material.
I approached her for a photo because I knew my readers would want for me to inquire. She turned out to be the talent and her lesbian lover was the front woman. The front woman, a shorter blonde who's trying to lick Courtney's breast in the picture, negotiated two Irish car bombs for the photo - a car bomb is the house special at Ryan's and consists of a half pint (1 cup) of Guinness and a shot of Baileys Irish Cream with Jameson Whiskey floating in it. I don't usually pay for my photos, but this was an exception. I took the photo and went back in the bar. They followed.
I pulled out a $10 bill and tried to hand it to the front woman but she said, "No, you've got to do it with us!" I obliged and we made our way up to the bar. I ordered three car bombs and as they were being made, the front woman started telling me their love story:
Jello Shots on Bourbon
Alisha is holding her Jello Shot (get it?) up high on Bourbon Street.
wasn't asking her anything, but she divulged the sexual positions they preferred and the best way to get off. We drank our shots and I'll have to say that the Irish car bom is rather tasty. These lesbos had pretty good taste.
On the way back to my post for the game, the flasher was mauled by the guy in the picture who's showing his nipple. His tongue was down Courtney's throat so the front woman started to explain:
"She really loves him too. He does it to her and eats me out at the same time. We love three-ways. We scissor and he gets off."
I told her she'd be on my blog and she wanted a card, but I didn't have one. I better get one.
They still hung around awhile outside, but I didn't talk to them anymore. I did get Ian and Alisha a car bomb though before the game. Alisha took hers down in one big gulp that surprised Ian and I. Ian and I took a few gulps to finish ours off and then I was ready for the game.
Well the game went as
No date? No problem
This guy said he likes the soft look in her eyes.
everyone had hoped. More people were in the bar than two weeks ago and the whole crowd swayed back in forth in jubilation after each touchdown, field goal, first down, tackle, officials correct call, or anything that could be construed in our favor. You could say the crowd was on edge and didn't need much to go into an uproar. No one could fall over in the swaying crowd because it was so packed.
By the end of the game, my ears were ringing and they're still ringing now. I went outside when one guy was spraying everyone with champagne and it seemed even louder outside. Everyone poured into the streets and this time there were 5X as many people as before. For some reason, the police were in the middle of it trying to get somewhere with motorcycles, cruisers and horses. The Horses on Bourbon Street were really spooked and I don't know why they were in the middle of the crowd. They were backing up and twisting around. One guy got pushed by the Police horse into a Lucky Dog cart and I'd had enough.
My brother Eric has a 4-hour rule. He says he doesn't
Throw me some beads!
People will do about anything for beads, but mostly they scream their heads off!
want to do anything for more than 4 hours. I think I have an 8-hour rule where I had seen enough after 8+ hours in the French Quarter. I was rather burnt out from the car bombs and my cousins had to drive back to Pensacola, so we headed back to the cars. I wanted them to sober up for the drive, so we headed over to a restaurant on Canal. While we were eating, the craziness increased. All lanes of traffic into the French Quarter were jammed as more revelers poured into town. Horns were honking, sirens were blaring and bus-loads of people were hanging out of windows and coming into the Quarter.
What happens when you pour 100 gallons of whiskey into a 50 gallon container?
You get Bourbon Street!
As we left the restaurant, an impromptu, victory parade made it's way towards us on Canal. The leaders had drums, trumpets and tubas and playing the Saints theme song of Stand Up. Thety were heading straight towards us but we managed to keep ahead of them. They followed us around the corner of the French Quarter and stalked us for a few more blocks before
Thomas is affectionately known as T-Time and he just put wax in his hair. See my new decorations in the RV with a Taiwan relief map, calendar and drift wood mounted with my hats and beads.
we made it to the car. I don't know what happened after that, but I bet you can read about it in the paper or online.
I hope you're fortunate enough to be at the right place at the right time with the right people like me. I'm glad I could share the Saints first Super Bowl victory with my cousins and friends.
PS. I don't think enough can be said about Tracy Porter's interceptions in the last two Saints games. He picked off Favre in the last moments of the Vikings win to send them into overtime and the Super Bowl. Then yesterday, he "jumped the route" when Reggie Wayne shuffled his feet and stepped right into Manning's pass and then he was off to the races and into the endzone. Tracy had watched Wayne on film and read him like a book. I've never seen such a clean pick and a lame route by Wayne. Wayne would be my scapegoat for the Colts.
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