Tables Turned

When people come out to the most difficult loved ones in their lives, it can often morph into a kind of apology if not kept in check.  I think this is because many times the person is shamed into this.  Or maybe they are so co-dependently overcompensating, knowing that the news they have just delivered is considered the worst news they ever could have delivered to that person.  Obviously, this is not true but it certainly can feel like that to the recipient.  My sister told me that this was the worst thing to happen since our dear mother died 11 years ago.  She said she cried more than she had in her whole life.  Sleepless nights and despair were all that was in store for her upon hearing the news that her baby sister was a Judy.  

When faced with years of shame and guilt, it can be easy for one to find themselves sort of being apologetic rather than proud when they come out to this type of person.  A beaten down dog comes to mind.  It's like you are giving them some news of some horrible act you have committed and should be remorseful for.  In their mind, you SHOULD be sorry and remorseful and shameful.  And you should also be begging for prayers and forgiveness for this terrible, awful, dark thing.  

This brings to mind a friend.  He is completely out to his whole family and has been for years.  He has a good relationship with his mother and father and sees them everyday at work.  He is a faithful servant of the lord (not that it makes any difference to me but some people measure the man by the devotion to his faith).  He told me the other day that his brother took it particularly hard when he came out.  Although this has been years in the past, he told me that he was told "not to bring that around the kids" and that he understood this.  Now, as a happy, out, gay man how the hell can he tolerate that?  To me, the fact that YEARS later, he can sit and tell me that he understands this kind of blows my mind and makes me feel like this has weighted his self esteem down to the ground.  It makes me wonder if he is perpetually single partially because he can never be allowed to share that part of his life with his family as a group.  That makes me sad.  

Another issue with this is this.  What does the brother mean when he says not to "bring that around the kids"?  Bring what?  Does he no longer give this guy credit not to move the Thanksgiving turkey to the side so he can blow his dinner date?  Anyway, I could go on forever about why this irks me terribly but I will save that for later.

Dan Savage has the best advice and attitude about this that I have ever heard.  He basically says come out, let them have their time to freak about it, then draw a line at some point (he says a year).  Draw a line and in some way send the message "this is me, deal with it, accept it or YOU wont have ME in YOUR life" instead of worrying that they are going to disown YOU.  Turn the tables.  Be proud, don't be apologetic.

This is EXACTLY what I did recently.  I was SO nervous that my sister was going to never want to associate with me again that it kept me from coming out for years.  Once I did, I tried everything I could to tolerate her hurtful comments.  I tried to understand her perspective and how that made her experience with this very painful.  I DO understand.  But when it came to a certain point where I felt like it was simply unproductive and served no other purpose but to try and make me sorry, I cut off the conversation.  I simply asked for a break.  

She says

Upon me expressing my reluctance and anxiety in coming out to my sister, many people have asked if I thought she already knew.  Many people experience this; they come out to family and the family says something to the effect of "I'm glad you finally told me, I already knew".  I wish I could have been so lucky.  

She says she is in shock.  

She says that this is the worst thing that has happened since our mother passed away.  I really don't know how to react to this.  On the one hand, I understand because from her point of view, I guess it's not to pleasing to think about a loved one burning in hell for eternity.  On the other hand, I don't really appreciate her associating me coming clean with her with the single most traumatic event of our lives thus far.  Also, the whole hell thing- was she not this upset when I went through not one but two divorces?  What about me living with people prior to marriage?  Why is this so particularly bad for her?  

She says that she associates me as one of her children and that she wishes our mother would have brought us up in church.  My mom DID bring me up in church.  I went to Parkway Christian Academy for school and to Parkway Christian Church.  It wasn't my whole life, but it was for a substantial amount of time during my formative years.  As a teenager, I recall dreading church like a plague and being made to go whether I liked it or not.  My younger brother not only attended Parkway Christian Academy for elementary school, but also went on to graduate from Jefferson Christian Academy.  It wasn't like we lived at the church, but we certainly were brought up like the average christian so it wasn't like I was raised by a godless hippie goddess (if only!).  

She says that this past week, she has cried more than any other time in her life and had sleepless nights.  More than ANY other time in her life...  I don't even...  She has been through some serious hard times.  Surely we share the worst was watching our vibrant, beautiful mother wither away from cancer.  She also has had her own share of emotionally trying times before the birth of her first child.  Multiple miscarriages had to have left her drained.  I have experienced a miscarriage myself so I know how terrible that feels.  Her first child was born at only 27 weeks.  He was so small, that his father's wedding ring fit all the way to the top around his little arm.  It was a terribly emotional time for the family holding our breath to see if he was going to make it or not.  I just don't get how she can elevate this to this type of level.  Maybe I am reading into her words too much.  

She says this life that I have chosen has no future.  It is lonely and destructive.  I think it is lonely and destructive to think about a life where I have to lie about this part of who I am.  Until just over a month ago, I had a girlfriend for nearly two years.  I avoided my family coming to visit.  I avoided talking about romance and dating.  I feared slipping up and mentioning her in a light that would seem more than my 'room mate'.  I felt dishonest every time I was around her or spoke to her.  

She says she doesn't want me to talk about this with the kids or try to make them understand my lifestyle choice.  She says that she doesn't want them to think that this is ok.  I guess the alternative is that she would rather them come to grips with the fact that their favorite aunt is going to burn for eternity.  

Coming Out

One week ago, I did something that I had dreaded for a long time.  I came out to the last person left on my invisible list.  There is a reason why she was last.  My sister, an evangelical christian, is definitely the worst person I could think of to have to tell that I am gay.  My biological father, my step mother, my surrogate 'black momma', they were all told first and all advised me not to tell my sister about this.  People have asked me why she was particularly hard to tell so let me elaborate.

My mother and stepfather passed away when I was 28.  Sparing the details, I will just say that their deaths were only 5 months apart and has proven to be the single most life changing event that I have gone through.  This is when my older sister, 11 years my senior, became a kind of matriarchal figure in my family.  Thanksgivings and Christmases were now spent in Georgia.  Family financial matters like executing the will, taking care of my younger brother, and the selling of my parents house were now the responsibility of my sister.  This is the dynamic that has persisted for the last 11 years.  

My sister has minced no words over the years about her position on homosexuality.  She has openly disparaged gay people and has repeatedly demonstrated that she is not interested in opening her mind to another view point.  She is driven by her faith to justify her position, but it's more than just her faith that makes her so terribly unable to accept homosexuality as a valid, real identity.  It seems to be that she has judge and jury decided that she knows what homosexuality is.  In her own words, it is 'dark, destructive, and lonely' and the lifestyle has 'no future'.  Hell, she even thinks she knows how ALL homosexual people are.  Here is a gem of an example; she hates Ellen- HATES Ellen Degenerous because she said she uses her talk show to push her gay agenda and just flaunts her gayness all over the place!  If anyone has any familiarity with Ms. Degenerous, it is obvious that she actually does the opposite of that.  But I digress.

To my knowledge, no one in the family has any exposure to anyone that is not from their church.  The family as a whole is highly involved in the church, going there multiple times a week every week without fail.  My brother in law is a missionary and they have even traveled to Israel on a vacation (presumably to be close to Jesus).  

My niece and nephew were also a reason why I never said anything before now.  I always say that I never wanted kids, and that they are the ONLY kids I am ever going to have.  I absolutely adore them.  I used to fear that if I came out to her, she would keep me from seeing the kids.  I always thought that I would wait until they were of college age or at least latter high school years.  They are home schooled and as I mentioned not ever exposed to any other flavor other than strict fundamentalist christianity so it's kind of impossible to expect that they will in any way be able to understand how to separate mom's opinions from their own.  

So yeah, I wasn't planning on it.  I woke up that day and had no idea that this was the day for me to live 100% honestly and tell that last person.  I have endured some pretty horrible comments since then.  The threat of losing my relationship with the kids has gone from speculation and worry to a very real possibility.  At first she said she wouldn't keep me from seeing them.  Now that we have begun to talk, it seems like it is going in that direction since I won't agree to uphold this myth that I am going to hell.  Basically, she doesn't want me to talk to the kids and try to 'make them understand' my 'lifestyle choice' (her words).  She says that if I am really an honest person, I would want for them to believe that my 'lifestyle choice' is ultimately going to send me to hell.  

Forget the fact that I saw no need in even telling the kids at this time.  Forget the fact that, despite me being the polar opposite in almost every way possible, I have NEVER tried to influence the kids in any way.  Forget the fact that I have always respected her role as their mother.  I will never feel the need to pull an Ellen and push my gay agenda to anyone, certainly not the kids.  But I will NOT (if asked) perpetuate what I consider a lie and I certainly will NOT disparage who I am by pretending that there is something damningly wrong with me.  It's for this that I may lose some time with two of the most precious people in my life.  

I hope I am overreacting right now.  

Voicemails II

So....yeah....

I am going to go ahead and retract what I said in my Voicemails blog for the most part.  I STILL hate them, but now I have found a way to get around having to deal with them.

Google voice has emancipated me from my voicemail system.  Voicemails bypass my phone and are transcribed directly into my email.  I dont even have to check them on my phone ever to remove the icon because there IS no annoying little icon!  There is even a link in the email that has the voicemail recorded in case I need to hear it.

Now I dont have to sneak around at work to listen to them.  Now I can be watching a movie and see what message someone sent me without having to stop and listen.  I am so happy!

So leave me a VM, I dont care! 

To friend or not to friend those who think diffferently

Episode 223

Dan Savage is my favorite advice columnist.  I listen to his podcast every Tuesday.  For the most part, I agree with his advice and even feel like he was better able to put into words the things I have felt before but have been unable to express it as eloquently.  That was not the case for one of the calls I listened to on episode 223.

A gay woman, we'll call her Judy, called to say that she had a friend from high school that had become more conservative and religious over the years as she had become more active in queer community activism and more liberal.  (A pretty common scenario, two high school friends drifting in different directions.)  Judy said that her friend had become active in a church that felt that homosexuality was a sin (wow, what a surprise), but equal to all other sins.  She told her friend that this offended her and her friend acknowledged that it upset her. 

One night, Judy got drunk at the local Beaver Trap and decided to call her friend and tell her that they couldn't be friends anymore.  I guess she left her a message because she didn't mention what her friend's response was, only that at some time later, she received a letter from her friend.  The letter stated that she loves Judy and that she would love any woman that Judy loved.  She asked to remain in contact, but expressed that she would respect her wishes in any case. 

Judy then went on to say that her friend is an amazing woman and that she doesn't really think that her friend truly believes that homosexuality is a sin.  She then asked Dan if she should maintain contact with this woman or not. 

Dan, sounding pretty weak, started by saying that he was pro-friend and that he didn't want to tell her not to be this amazing woman's friend.  He then went onto sarcastically refer to the woman as 'amazing' no less than four times.  It was obvious that a big BUT was right around the corner.  Just as he finished referring to her as an amazing person doing dreadful things, including child abuse because she is a youth group leader at her church, he said the if he were in her shoes he would "dump her and have nothing to do with this woman".  He then went onto say that if she did want to remain in contact, that she should make it conditional.  Tell her you won't speak to her until she reads Gay, Straight, and the Reason Why by Simon LeVay as well as some blog posts by John Shore, he said.

He said once again that we wasn't going to tell her to dump this woman, but that he would dump her.  He mentioned that she was 'choosing not to walk away from bigotry so she is walking away from me'.  He referred to her as a 'harmful, abusive, malicious person' due to her participation in the youth group at church and then said that Judy should help her realize that.

I absolutely wholeheartedly disagree with his advice to dump this friend.  This would be no different if I were referring to an atheist being friends with a christian or any other minority person having a different minded friend, provided that no abuse was present.

1. Judy's friend is in no way being disrespectful to her.  She even separated her personal belief regarding homosexuality and told her that she loved her and went onto say that she would love whoever Judy loved.  That sounds like a caring, open minded, possibly moldable friend.  That looks like opportunity to me to remain in contact with a person that you have a long history with and that perhaps could learn and grow to understand unfamiliar territory.  Judy's friend obviously gives a shit about her and cares for the friendship or she wouldn't have pressed her to remain in contact.  If she defriends her, she is missing an opportunity to have opened another person's mind simply by being herself; the person that Judy's friend cares for.  If Judy's friend were berating her in any way, I would tell her to jerk that friendship back immediately. 

2. Judy asked for this information.  Her friend didn't come to her and talk to her about the terrible sin of homosexuality.  So, in my opinion, Judy's friend may never have approached her with this.  Her answer was solicited, plain and simple.  I imagine more than a few of my friends might be disappointed in my honest opinion on certain matters if they asked.  The same is true in reverse as well. 

3.  Judy's friend has a right to her opinion.  Now, you'll not hear me defend any religious matter and I don't think her friend is in the right because I don't believe in sin, god, heaven, hell, etc.  However, she can believe whatever she wants.  If Judy doesn't respect her friend due to her beliefs, then I can understand her wanting to distance herself.  But a person is more than just one thing and it sounded to me like she still liked and respected her friend.  She even referred to her as an amazing woman so obviously there are other redeeming qualities about this woman despite her beliefs that are offensive to Judy. 

4.  How better to fight stereotypes and bigotry than to serve as an example.  how can Judy, as Dan advised, show her how bigotted her friend is, if they are not in contact?  I turn now to the 'angry atheist' scenario.  While, I completely understand where the anger comes from, I am not and do not wish to be seen as an angry, disrespectful, hate all religious people, atheist.  Atheists, and gays for that matter, are seen to be immoral people.  What if I stayed away and defriended every person who was religious around me?  How would they ever have the opportunity to change their mind on that stereotype if not exposed to a smart, well rounded, moral atheist that they cared for as a friend?  Ideas need to be challenged and experiencing a bond with someone different is the best way to do that.  I don't mean that Judy should get up in her friend's face at every chance to try to change her mind.  Judy said that she didn't really believe that her friend believed that homosexuality was a sin.  Judy should be that 'other' voice in her friend's life, that counter to the conservative that may prompt her to reexamine her ideas about gay people.  Sure, she won't stop believing in god, but that is not what this is about.

I had a conversation with someone last night that advocated defriending.  Among other things, their opinion was also that I, as an atheist, should even defriend my christian friends.  They also went onto say that they are tired of people and are frustrated.  I get this.  I really do understand it, but I feel like that is no solution to the problem.  Unity, equality, simple respect for another doesn't come from segregation.  If we all retreated to our own separate islands with only those who were just like us, well...isn't that a breeding ground for extremism?  If you never get to bounce off differing ideas to one another, how can you strengthen your own beliefs much less gain a deeper understanding of another's?  What if you have a person in your life who is closeted and needs a role model?  How are you going to be there to help them if you've already defriended them?

People are more than one thing.  I am not just an atheist, or just bi-sexual, or just a woman, or just from the south, or just liberal.  I am all of these things and more and I embrace all of them.  I think more people should be less one dimensional and consider the positives that diversity can bring to themselves and others. 

Liars.

INTEGRITY

in·teg·ri·ty 

[in-teg-ri-tee]

–noun

1. adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.

How important is this to you?  If it is important for you to maintain a certain level of integrity yourself, then how important is it that others around you do the same?  I had this type discussion last night and it proved to be a bit challenging for me to relate to the poor person on the other end having to listen to my blabber. 

To me, integrity is a very important thing to expect both from myself but also the people around me.  I don't mean to judge those complicated situations which would require more sincere contemplation to fully understand and sit in a gray area.  That's too relative for me.  I mean let's talk about blatant, purposeful, compulsive liars.  That is the most simple, obvious assault on one's own integrity there is. 

To break it down further, I used the word purposeful because I'd like to make  a distinction between someone who truly believes what they are saying and are simply mistaken and those who are very well aware that they are lying. 

You know these people.  I don't have to give examples.  These empty shells spew out whatever they think you want to hear at the time, even if they have no basis for what they are saying.  They know EVERYTHING.  That's why they are so important, you see?  They have heard everything, they have already done everything you're doing, they always have a juicy story, everyone always wants them and they ALWAYS get laid. 

Someone said to me that they can forgive an offender's tall tales if they are nice.  I would like to ask you guys, how do you know that?  How do you know if someone is nice or not if every word out of their dicktrap is so obviously a lie?  How do you know if someone is truly nice if you see them routinely kiss people's ass that you know they don't care for?   If they are consistently betraying others, how do you know they are nice to you? 

Here's the thing.  They if they are lying to other's they are lying to you.  If they are spreading lies about others, they are doing it to you.  If they are manipulating other's they are manipulating you.  You are not special to these people.  They are only loyal to whomever is in front of them at the time.  I have had to learn this lesson the hard way a few times in life.  Yes, I may have been a slow learner to have been burned multiple times.  But I am SO GLAD I DID! 

I can't just- as some people would do- turn a blind, glossy eye at this sort of thing.  How can you build a relationship on that?  If you are hanging out with them talking, how can you decipher what's real and what is pulled out of thin air to make them look more important, or bad ass, or hotter, or more innocent, or more guilty, or rebellious, etc...  I can tell you this, if I want to head to fantasy land, I can simply drop a couple sugar cubes soaked in lysergic acid and come up with some friends way more interesting and real than that of a compulsive liar. 

I fear I have gotten off on a tangent.  I like tangents so I will keep going.  Click away from my page if you are offended by this post.  Although, if you are, I probably don't want you around anyway. 

There was another question of the group hanging out process.  The word 'boycott' was thrown out there.  I was asked if I would boycott someone.  My answer is a resounding YES.  I mean, why the fuck not?  Am I losing anything?  Shall I choose to be around them to subject myself to my own torment?

Here is my solution.  A larger group setting is clearly not as unbearable as an intimate dinner and walk in the park with one of these.  So, I say, the bigger the group, the more likely I am to take a break from the boycott.  The more watered down they can be, the better.  I don't need them full strength.  I can't take it and if you ask me to, you just run the risk of me being a total bitch to them at some point. 

There is also what I call the 'special occasion clause'.  If a special occasion rolls through, as they always do, then exceptions can be made given at least some dilution.  One on one is absolutely out of the question at all times, even during a special occasion.  (this would never happen anyway because if I have boycotted you, you are probably not going to ask me to buddy up with you in the first place)

There aren't too many things I do in life that I don't want to do.  I just don't encounter it much.  Feeling obligated to hang out with a person I can't bear is foreign to me.  My point is, sometimes these dreadful people are kept around, even when the people around them detest their company.  That is not fair to anyone and strips away at one's own integrity.  Stop enabling the liars, please. 

The average lifespan of a woman is 79 years.  That is nothing, a speck, a tiny glimmer, a grain of sand in the sahara, nothing, nothing, nothing.  Unlike some, I believe this is my only life. I only have that teeny tiny speck of sand in which to operate within and I am telling you, I am not spending any part of it indulging someone I can't trust, can't stand, or find appalingly artificial. 

This is a GREAT thing because at least of I am hanging out with you, you know I WANT to be there! 

A long ass blog about drunk girls in NOLA

Wow.  There are so many things to talk about in recalling this most wonderful trip.  I didn't even get pics of the best shit and I could go on forever and bore you but I won't.  I will just have to try to tell the story in pictures. 

Day one (Thursday)- We arrive at our couch surfing destination to find an AMAZING place to crash the first day.  I don't really know what I expected, but this was definitely not it.  What a nice surprise.

 I cannot believe we had this place all to ourselves while the most gracious owner of this property was working in Birmingham!  It was 2 blocks off Bourbon Street  in the lavender area so you know we had to get our party on immediately.

Once we got settled in, we immediately made our way to Bourbon Street in search of food and drink.  We started out at Pat O'Briens courtyard for some fried alligator and a nice shrimp salad.  Monte had a Hurricane and I had a mint julep.  It was a very nice, touristy way to set it off and relax after a long drive.  After that, we simply walked the streets until it was time to go home and get ready to go out.  Here are some man barbies in ladies' clothes.

                                            

That evening, we spent most of our time around the Bourbon Street Pub rubbing elbows with the sweaty little boys that got there a day early for the weekend's festivities.  It would be the ONLY night we were able to comfortably settle in to a bar and enjoy the sights.  Yes, the sights.  What we saw were a good many hardly dressed leather daddies and bears.  Oh, and a few naked twinks flaunting semi hard cocks flopping around on the bar tops.  Monte asked, "Where do you put the tips?"

Double Soco's are so good!

Day two (Friday)- Oh dear.  This day started out nice enough.  We went to Cafe Dumonde first thing.

A nice lady with quite the potpourri of heritages served us.  She had a VERY thick accent and an even thicker build.  She was like some one's sweet old grandma, but without all the sweet.  She abruptly came over to us and asked if we could understand what she was saying.  She had to say it twice.  With confidence, we both replied, "Oh, yes...certainly we can understand your accent!"  She then explained to us that the man at the next table said he couldn't understand a word she was saying.  We reaffirmed to her that WE could.  We had NO problem understanding her.  How rude of that man!  We then felt like we had, in some small way, made a friend.  She then gave us our total to which both Monte and I looked at each other briefly with a bit of confusion.  She then repeated the total.  Again, we looked at her and then asked her to repeat what she said.  I don't even think we realized it was numbers that she was saying.  After repeating it again for the third time, we figured out that she was giving us our total.  Ironic. 

That evening, we decided to head out to Frenchman Street, a place that Dennis, my couch surfing host had recommended.  It is a small area away from the loudness and smells of Bourbon Street and surrounding areas.  It's a totally different animal than touristy Bourbon Street.  Much more quiet, less people, mostly locals, and jazz bar after jazz bar after jazz bar along with a few restaurants.  We set out to find some drinks then some sushi. 

We spotted some Decadence floats getting ready:

                                

                                             

                                                         

We first started out at a cool place with window boxes where you could sit and feel on display to the people walking by outside.  In a separate room, there was a 4 piece band playing on a small stage with big, red velvet curtains hanging behind them.  They had lambic on tap and I was happy!

                                                

We then made our way over to a place across the street called "The Spotted Cat" for another cocktail before dinner.  This place was really cool.  The decor was all silver and lit with blue.  It was a very small place with a tiny little corner stage right beside the front door.  A gorgeous young lady dressed in sort of a 40's style was singing old timey jazz.  I am not great with genres, but it seemed like 30's-40's type music.  All of the patrons had their eyes on her, which was refreshing.  No one was there to just party.  It was a real appreciation for music and the music was fantastic. 

We then made our way to Yuki, a few doors down.  When we had first arrived at Frenchman, this is where we were let out of our cab.  Barely distinguishable, only by a tiny sign, this place looked like an abandoned building.  No windows, graffiti everywhere, flyers, tape and other signs pasted on the side...SO EXCITING!

                                     

When we went in, it was very dimly lit in red and was just what I was looking for- a hole in the wall bar that serves sushi. 

They showed old black and white Japanese movies on the wall.  It was a GREAT little extra.

They didn't have sushi, but they DID have sashimi and that was just fine.  Believe me, we didn't miss the rice.  Here are some soft shell crawfish we ate.  They heads tasted creamy!

                               

Sadly, this is the only pic I have of our food, as it was devoured as soon as it hit the table.  We also had some salmon, yellowtail and tuna sashimi and some salmon carpaccio.  I think we had other stuff too, but because of the night to come, I don't remember. 

Craving a frozen mojito, we left Frenchman and took a cab to the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann to encounter protesters.  This wasn't the ubiquitous man that stands on the lavender line with a cross shouting about jesus.  These guys had come down specifically to protest the Southern Decadence crowd.  What an honor! 

                                

These people really were a joke.  There was a man with a bullhorn in the protester's path saying "blah, blah, blah" and "closet gay".  To my delight, when they made their way down Bourbon, before they reached the gay area, the crowd responded with a resounding "BOOOO!"  These folks were there every night with their silly signs.  As the weekend rolled on, the cops were present around them making sure some riot didn't break out. 

                                

They only deserve about 5 seconds, so here ya go:

The last time I saw them, there was a man SCREAMING at them right in their faces.  This went on for some time and eventually, the protester's left the area!  The crowd began to cheer energetically about this and I might have felt a little verklempt!

After spending only a short time around a bunch of sweaty naked men, we decided to go up to one of my favorite places right in the Bourbon Street area; THE DUNGEON. 

The Dungeon is a truly unique bar for the French Quarter.  It's a dark, devilish metal bar on Toulouse.  As you enter through the gate, you walk a very long, very narrow (almost to narrow to fit through comfortably) corridor which opens up to a courtyard of skulls and a small fountain.  The inside does not disappoint, as it comes complete with torture chambers, metal cages, torture devices, slimey dead looking thingys and a full sized coffin.  Good luck finding the bathroom, its down a long skinny library with a hidden door behind the bookshelf. 

                                           

But enough about the decor.  They also had buy one get one free drinks the evening before.  Naturally, we ventured back.  I went up to the bar and ordered my best friend Soco from a lovely pale lady behind the bar.  This particular evening, they weren't doing the same drink special, but they DID however have a nifty little thing called a 'cherry bomb' for only 75 cents!  I looked at my companion (as if I even had to ask) and it was clear.  Cherry bombs it is! 

Cherry bombs, we were told, were cherries that had been soaking in pure grain alcohol (yes 190 proof) since some date in July.  We each got one along with our usuals and popped them in our mouths.  Upon first chew, I was astounded by how horribly strong this was.  Sure, I knew what it was but nothing or no one could have adequately prepared me for just how much liquid was retained in this cherry.  It was like it was a super absorbent sponge...like a Sham-WOW cherry.  Well worth the measly 75 cents we paid for them.  All I could think was how much you could totally fuck some one's world- on the cheap even- by simple putting one of these sham-wow cherries in their rum and coke.  It was spectacular!

Once we finished our cherries, we made our way over to the small cage that adjoins to the left side of the bar.  This was perfect, because the pale lady was an excellent hostess and checked on us frequently and kept our drinks full.  Oh, Soco, I love ya dearly!  We sat there, never having to leave our cage, being served considerably strong drinks by a skinny death-chic looking hottie and listening to various types of metal.  This moment in time would explain the facebook update "Now listen up, she's a razor sharp".  At one point, I leaned over to give my escort a kiss and we saw the flash of a camera.  It was two girls (oh yeah), shamelessly taking our picture while we made out.  I would say I was in heaven but then again the atmosphere is so awesomely hellish, it just couldn't fit.

What happened next is beyond me.  I hardly remember paying, mush less leaving.  I guess the sham-wow cherry caught up with both of us because the next morning, I woke to find myself in bed with just my undies on.  Clothing was thrown about all over the place.  The first words out of my mouth were that I didn't remember coming home and asked Monte if she did.  To my horror, she did NOT.  She had no more memory than I did.  What I am saying here is that both of us left, apparently took a cab, then came home safely to bed and we don't recall a single instant of it.  Did we go anywhere after The Dungeon? Did those two girls photographing us take us and do things to us?  Did we pay the cab?  Did we even take a cab, or did we walk?  Is THAT why my feet hurt so damn bad?  None of these questions can be answered to this day. 

Day three (Saturday)- Fuck you.  Fuck you, Soco.  Seriously.  Get fucked. 

So this day is not good.  First, I feel fine and Monte feels sick.  Then later, Monte feels ok and I feel sick.  Most of the day we spent in bed sleeping but we did get out to Mother's for some awesome sandwiches.  We both had the Ferdi Special.  I don't know who Ferdi is, but he or she make a mean ass po-boy with home cooked ham, roast beef, debris, homemade cole slaw, gravy and mustard.  Debris can best be described as trash roast beef soaking in a roast beef gravy.  It's the pieces of roast beef that falls into the gravy while they are roasting the beef.  Monte got us yelled at and we almost had the bell rang on us and had to leave because she wasn't yelling the order at this bitch upon command.  It's a special type atmosphere in there.  If you go to Mother's have you shit ready or don't go yet.  Here is a view of the line waiting outside this 70 year old restaurant:

                                 

The lady in white had a nice bootay. 

That evening, we went partying on Bourbon with the gay boys and had a grand ole time.  We eventually made our way down to The Blacksmith bar, which isn't gay and got a prime spot sitting outside on the street.  Hence, the cat calling was born! 

Monte and I sat there yelling at unsuspecting women as they walked by.  We yelled at women walking in and out of the bar.  We yelled at women sitting right next to us and we yelled at the bartender.  No one was safe.  Young, old, skinny, fat, boyish, girly...it did not matter.  We were out for entertainment and we didn't give a FUCK! Yelling at them like we were construction workers, the looks on these women's faces was hilarious.  Most looked confused, some looked a little scared, many of them loved it, and it paid off in the end because I ended up with  a lap dance, we got a nice booty shake from some tattooed bitch and we were also called out by some insecure frat boy for hollaring at his lady.  He said' "That girl you are yelling at, she's my girlfriend."  I reply, "well she FINE!"  That alone made it worth it.  I must concede that we were emboldened by having a body guard this whole time in case somebody wanna get offended.  He was a nice guy who agreed to protect us and encouraged us to follow our hearts and yell and hit on every woman that passed.  I never got his name, but by the looks of his spandex shorts he had about a 10 inch dick, but I digress.

Day 4 (Sunday)- Louisiana pizza kitchen.  OH.  MY.  GOD.  Go there.  Order the sausage sampler. 

We also went to Molly's on Decatur and found ourselves a nice spot in the open window seat.  Okay, so what if it was after we pressured two bitches out of their seats.  We resumed the cat calling from the night before.  A risky move, since we weren't on Bourbon anymore and it was daytime.  We sipped some awesome cucumber ginger drinks and let caution fly with the wind.  Monte hit on some old ass lady with silver hair.  She has a thing for grandmothers, I guess. 

Later, we drove into the garden district and went to an amazingly gorgeous park with ancient trees that just can't be described.  Why i don't have a picture of these huge trees is beyond me.  I...I can't even begin to talk about that.

We ate at a fancy restaurant called Ralph's At The Park.  Killer martinis, tuna tartar, some crazy BLT with pork belly, and some other dishes I can't remember but one stands far apart- Seared foie gras over a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  It was puff pastry filled with peanut butter end encrusted with crushed peanuts on top of a grape jelly swirl and topped with seared foie gras.  HOLY FUCK.  My mind was blown.  It was delicious.  This was truly a case of "don't knock it if you haven't tried it".

Later, we returned to Frenchman Street and made our way into the craziest little bar.  There was MAYBE seating for 30 and that includes the bar.  There was a man on the stage that reminded me of Les Claypool and the music was delightful.  The bartender had a sharp tongue and no tolerance for bullshit.  They carried NO diet drinks and only one beer on tap- High Life.  It was clearly a gang of locals in there and I kind of felt like I was on acid the whole time I was sitting there.  It was called The Apple Barrel.

We then made our way out to the street to witness and participate in a street party.  HAY!

Day 5 (Monday)- Departure date.  2nd attempt at Central Grocery.  Result- closed again.  Curses!  Now I won't get my muffaleta.  Crazy Lobster over looking the river instead.  Delicious seafood bucket. 

                               

                              

Market price = WAY more than expected.  Now broke as a muthafucka!  But it was totally worth it.  This thing had more seafood that we could eat.  Two kinds of crab, TWO whole lobsters,  a school of shrimp, mussels, clams, potatoes and corn and like 10 cups of melted butter.  It did not disappoint, although it did prove to be the most expensive meal we ate. 

All in all, this was a truly great, much needed trip and I am already dreaming of going back again after the first of the year.  I discovered a new part of NOLA that I am eager to revisit as soon as possible.  It is easy to see why the locals are so proud.