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Sunday, July 3, 2011

I Drove My Chevy to the Levy and THE LEVY WAS GONE!!!

I believe this is going to be my first ever picture post. If only Abraham Lincoln was alive to see me today, he would be so proud. I don't know what Abraham Lincoln has to do with picture posts, but I think it would be pretty cool if he was alive. Because of the, you know, beard.

Speaking of Abraham Lincoln, no, I am not going to post anything today or tomorrow about the 4th of the July. On accounts of me being a Communist, I'm not big on all of that patriotism business. The only fireworks I'm interested in is the song by Katy Perry.

I never really post pictures because most times my face ends up looking something like this:



I'll make an exception, though, because New Orleans is such a fantastic city and a lot of my experience of it was very visual as opposed to something I can communicate verbally, namely all of the topless women I saw at the night clubs.

And please, click on any of the pictures for better quality. After you're done, click on the swimming fish on the sidebar. It's been months since anyone has fed them, and they are considerably mal-nourished.

Our trip to New Orleans was amazing. We left Texas about two weeks into our trip to meet up with the rest of the mission group from our Church, consisting mainly of the Youth Group. We had to miss part of a family reunion, but I didn't mind, because sentiment makes me queasy. Although the camp we were staying at did have donkeys and chickens and carrier pigeons and ducks and horses and a pig and this adorable little fawn who I called Kiwi.



I just called most of the donkeys "Donkey."



That was also the week I got my first motorcycle ride. Nope, there are no pictures of me on the motorcycle. But don't think for a moment we didn't get some great shots of my brother, sister, cousin and me grinning uncomfortably and standing beside the motorcycle!!!



Yep, we're triplets. In case you can't tell. I'm the blonde one on the right, with the awesome hair. My brother is the one to my left, with the sandle tan.

But back to the city of New Orleans, the first night the whole group arrived, we didn't have time to start working on houses, so we went to a worship service at St. Anna's Episcopal. It's a pretty standard Episcopal Church, except for three things. The first is The Murder Wall, which you can read about on the site. The second is that it has more Catholic influence than the average Episcopal church, which I won't go into because only Catholics and Anglicans would understand. The third is that instead of just normal hymns, it has a band of jazz musicians which it hired after Katrina. Wait--did I say jazz musicians? I meant PRETTY FUCKING AWESOME JAZZ MUSICIANS.



...Okay, they may not look that awesome from this picture, but you should have seen them live. I almost died from happiness, but not without jizzing my pants first. Hurricane Katrina ruined some of their careers, but the fire was still there. And it was spectacular music. They had so much personality. The guy on the piano did this hilarious gag where he would take all his clothes off and...no, that was pretty much it. He just took his clothes off. Which was kind of weird. Maybe that's why all those policemen were there.

We spent the nights at the University of New Orleans in one of the college dorms which happened to be specialised for the handicapped students at the University. It actually looked like a pretty standard college dorm, but they had a seat in the shower so you could sit down while you were taking a shower. Which I think is pretty hot.

Our group split into two groups of 14 the next morning when we were getting ready to work. We had two separate buses, which felt pretty pimpin' to roll around in all day. The city is improving, so some parts look completely normal, but other parts don't look so great. The house I was working on was somewhere around the Garden District.



All of the work we did was painting and scraping paint. It doesn't sound that hard, but I don't want to hear your opinion unless you also have spent six hours scraping paint of a wall under the hot sun in 105 degree weather with pneumonia. Well, I didn't have pneumonia, but if you did, I'd like to hear your take on the experience.

We called the guy we were working for Mr. John. He was pretty awesome, because he was nice and he brought us jumbolaya and watermelon, but I think there's another side to him. Here's a picture of his kitchen. Notice next to the sink there's a lead pipe, hanging loose. With bloodstains on it.



Anyway, I ain't askin' no questions. Mr. John's a nice guy, by and by.

It was tough work, though. Occasionally, some of us would strain ourselves a bit too hard, perhaps get dehydrated, and we'd lose them to the heat.



There I am to the right, thinking, "That's what you get for sitting under a ladder, tough guy." If you'll notice, I'm smirking a little.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha just kidding nobody died I'm so hilarious. That's actually a kid who I felt really bad for because he could literally fall asleep anywhere. He was also my roommate. One time I went into the room right before dinner and found him out cold on the bed already. I got all of the guys from our group to crowd into the room and watch him. Then we got some food and started piling it up on top of him and into his mouth. We put two pieces of pie into his hands. Then we crept out of the room, shut the door as quietly as possible, and then banged on it as hard as we could. We opened the door a second later and he was sitting there, befuddled. All he said was, "What's going on, guys? What's happening?"

One of the ways I kept myself entertained on the work site was by telling the guys on the team to punch me as hard as they could anywhere they wanted. (I was pretty delirious. I was pretty positive I was Tyler Durdon.) I had to ask them twice sometimes, but I was surprised by how many complied.



This guy punched me right in the chest--on my sternum--and you can see I just flew back a couple of feet. I got my breath back and said, "You punched me in the chest! That can kill!" He shrugged and grinned a mischevious grin, then pulled out a little fiddle, fiddled a little tune, and ran off into the distance, cackling madly.

Yes, for those of you wondering, we did go on Bourbon Street. I didn't get any pictures, because my mom had the camera and didn't set foot on Bourbon Street. I will say, though, that all of the teenage guys in our group went, accompanied by our two middle-aged, female priests. Before we entered Bourbon Street, I told everyone to wait for me while I ran into the restroom at this itty bitty diner. I had to pay for a drink from the soda fountain, go through the kitchen, go through the back room, go out the back door, through an alley way, and through a band of smoking thugs to find the little bathroom. No joke. And when I returned, everyone had ditched me except for one of the priests.

So I spent my first ten minutes of Bourbon Street awkwardly walking along the sidewalk with a large Sprite on tow, alongside a squat, fifty-something Episcopal priest.

Bourbon Street was pretty amazing. We went at 10 or 11, so everything was lit up, music was booming, and naked women were dancing in the doorways. Like I said, I didn't take any pictures, but here's what the street looks like:

....

This is what Google Images has to say about it:



Yeah, it was certainly a relief when we caught up to the other guys. And it was even more of a relief when we ditched the priests when at a t-shirt store which had sexual and drug puns on the t-shirts they didn't understand, so there was no moral conflict.

At one point a guy walked up to us who was clearly very high. He looked at all of us high schoolers and said, "What is this--fuckin' iCarly?" We started to walk away and he said, "No no wait. You guys wanna buy some fake pot?"

After half an hour or so of popping in and out of little shops and night clubs, we decided that it was time to get ourselves some prostitutes. We coughed up all of our money, which amounted to about $200, and we decided we could either buy a really cheap, unclean street hooker for each of us...or we could buy one really nice one who would screw one of us while the rest watched. We, of course, decided on the latter.

Unlike the gang of lustful teenage guys I was traveling around with, I actually walked around the French quarter with a purpose. I had unintentionally insulted this girl who I'm kind of interested in from my Youth Group by asking her to slice my grilled chicken salad and then after a minute or two of watching her clapping my hands twice and telling her to "Hurry up with it, bitch." I set out to the French quarter with the purpose of finding her an affordable but nice little gift to make her un-mad at me, but unfortunately we spent most of our time at Bourbon Street, so most of shops just had t-shirts like this one or Scooby-Do-themed bongs.

I finally settled on a reasonably nice New Orleans snowglobe. I knocked on her door after we got back to the dorms and gave it to her, apologised for my sexist behavior, and asked her to marry me. She giggled, thanked me, and slammed the door in my face.

All in all, New Orleans was a fantastic experience. We genuinely helped people who were eternally thankful for it, we ate a lot of red beans and rice, and we listened to jazz music.



I know this has been a long post. I'm sorry. I'd just like to conclude by reminding you to vote on my old poll if you haven't already, and by mentioning my other blog, recently renamed, Death is like a lemon. I would be SO grateful if you commented and followed. In fact, I will literally write you a love letter and send it to you if you follow that blog. I promise.

Also, here is a picture of me as a four-year-old!



Awwwww...maybe I should make that my profile picture. Cheer up, little man! You haven't even been through the worst of your childhood yet!

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

16 people secretly have a crush on me:

Lemons Don't Make Lemonade said...

Your hair is really blonde and yes, very awesome.

Also, I love the mixture of pictures and words in your post. Abraham is definitely very proud of you.

And congrats on finally managing to move your sidebars up. (:

Victoria said...

katy perry sucks.
i'm following your other blog. i will be waiting by my mail box for that love letter.

Bookish.Spazz said...

I know I mentioned this in my last comment, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE New Orleans.

My parents like Las Vegas better, but I think that’s because they can do more gambling up there. I personally hate all the commercialism up there that New Orleans has less of.

Did you go into any Voodoo shops? Get your fortune told? Run into any creepy Vampirist posers? Since you were with a youth group I didn’t know if you got to explore as much of the city as I did. Not to mention, I’ve been there a ton of times.

But yeah, the jazz music is AMAZING. As is your hair, and the fact that you’re a triplet. I’ve never known a triplet before. I mean, twins yes, but let’s face it: They’re a dime a dozen.

While you were perusing the city did you notice the watermarks that are still on some of the buildings in the French Quarter? It’s eerie how stuff like that is still there even though years have passed since Katrina.

Anyways, it looks like you had a nice time in NOLA! Glad you’re back to blogging and whatnot. We all missed you very much. And if you ever leave us again for such a long period of time I’m sure something bad will happen to us. We’ll most likely go into withdrawal and die within a few days. Or perhaps I’m being melodramatic.

Boyd said...

Our school's most recent graduating class had triplets...I only knew one, but that's ok because all triplets are the same, right? Right??

*crickets*

Anyway...in that baby picture, you have the exact same focused look as you have in that picture next to a picture of Obama. Yeah, pretty obscure pic...most people probably haven't heard of it.

I should go now, I'm severely lacking in sleep and it shows...

RainboRevolver said...

You looked like a pretty contemplative 4 year old. And I dig the picture with the ladder...
Have a nice day.

PeaceLoveandSharpies said...

Definitely not going to be redundant and say that you made me laugh my butt off. Not going to say that.

Sounds like you had an amazingtastical time.
The most I've done in New Orleans is beg my dad to stop and get me ice cream as we were driving home from Houston. Twas Cold Stone. OF COURSE we had to stop.

I'm not a creep.
BUT YOUARESOFREAKINGCUTE! :D
...I'm a creep. :'(

ellen ~ said...

I've never been to New Orleans, but it sounds awesome; and these pictures are cool, I like them. :)
Also, just to let you know, I may have overfed your fish just now. They won't be too hungry for a while.

Before I go, ah,
you have the greatest blonde hair I've ever seen.
Have a nice day~ :)

L. said...

You're A TRIPLET???
SOOO COOL!!!! I wish that I had siblings that I shared a birthday with. I have siblings, I look like neither of them, and I was born about half a calendar away from each of them.

Your blond hair is amazing. I wish that I looked good blond. Alas, blond has undertones of yellow, as does my skin, and too much yellow would make me look jaundiced, which is sort of the last thing I want. Your hair is awesome. And blond. Jealous.

I like your pictures. I am not good at picture blogs, since putting the pictures in takes effort and I'm lazy. I'm American; lazy and American are practically synonymous.

That last picture of you as a four year old is priceless. You look like you are about to cutabitch. Or are contemplating relativity. Both activities require intense concentration.

Happy Fourth/Day We As Americans Lost Our Cool Accent!

~L.

Furree Katt said...

you look like a blind man in the photo of you being punched!

Kay said...

So seeing a picture of you is like seeing a picture of Lady Gaga when she was still Stefani Germanotta. It makes me both uncomfortable and inspired!

That Blond Guy said...

Lemons Don't Make Lemonade: Well, that's good, because all I want is to make Mr. Lincoln proud.

Yeah, I actually made them move up a while ago. I had to delete one of my posts and that did it.

Victoria: I concur. She sucks lemons.

Thank you so much! And you guys thought I was joking about the love letters, didn't you? I was completely serious. Of course, I'd have to have everybody's address, which I don't think is likely. I have, though, sent a love letter to a stranger on more than one occasion.

Bookish.Spazz: It's definitely an amazing city. It has more culture than probably any major city in the United States. I've never been to Las Vegas, though, so I wouldn't know.

I went into the Voodoo Museum in the French quarter, and my friend got his palm read for like $35. We were only there for four days, and a lot of it was painting houses, so we didn't really get to tour as much as we would have liked.

The music is probably my favourite part about the city. When people ask my brother and I if we're twins, we just nod and say yes to avoid lengthy discussions. Whenever our sister is there, though, she bounces up and down excitedly and squeals, "NO! ACTUALLY WE'RE TRIPLETS!"

Yeah, we noticed a lot of those. As well as markings on the front doors of houses. It's insane.

And thanks! I won't abandon you guys if you don't abandon me.

Boyd: Ha ha ha ha ha NO! ALL TRIPLETS ARE NOT THE SAME! WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!

I was either really depressed or a baby genius. I hope it was the second, but instinct tells me it was probably the first.

Julia: Yep. Thanks.

PeaceLoveandSharpies: Okay, then don't! Geez.

I certainly did have an amazingtastical time. However did you know?

Thank you! No, you're not a creep. But your saying so reminded me of the song by Radiohead: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFkzRNyygfk

Ellen: Oh, it is awesome. Go there. Make it happen.

Don't worry about the fish. They work out a lot, so they won't struggle with the calories.

Aw, gee. It's not THAT amazing. (Gives bashful grin.)

L: Why, yes I am. And no, you don't wish you were a triplet. It's not as great as it sounds. Why would you want to share your birthday? It's bad news.

Blondness? It's a gift...and a curse. I'd be careful what you wish for.

I was actually doing both. Although I didn't know it at the time. And Happy 4th of July!

Furree Katt: I am blind. You didn't know?

Kay: I don't understand. It made you uncomfortable? Gee, Kay, my nose isn't THAT big. It's just a bit larger than normal. It's not abnormal or anything.

Elliot MacLeod-Michael said...

this is amazingly coherent for an account of time spent on bourbon street.
+followed

Jessica Thompson said...

Great photos! alphabetalife.blogspot.com

Eeshie said...

Oh my freaking gosh. The first picture and the last picture. Oh my gosh.

FIRST of all, I don't know why you're always so hung up about being un-attractive. You look fine to me. In fact, you look better than fine! What's the big deal?? I spent so much time thinking you were this ugly dwarf-like creature like the way you describe yourself in all your posts, but here you are, looking great! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? I WAS CAUGHT OFF GUARD.

Ugh.

And the second picture? OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH SO FREAKING CUTE IS THAT REALLY YOU? IF IT'S NOT, JUST LIE TO ME AND SAY IT IS. I WILL BE SAD IF THAT'S NOT YOU. OH MY GOSH. I JUST WANT TO SQUEEZE THOSE CHEEKS. OR GIVE THE LITTLE KID A HUG.

...

OH. MY. GOSH.

I'm sorry. I get excited when I see adorable children. And the fact that YOU were an adorable child as well has just made my day.

And yeah, I had a good birthday. You were the only one that asked. You're special. Thanks :)

Hamza Bin Ladin said...

I <3 Katy Perry! And your blog is awesome. Literally I fell of the chair laughing!
I am following ya now!

InnocentlyGreen said...

You are really seriously blond! :O

And also, your New Orleans story reminds me a lot of when I visited Amsterdam. Except, Amsterdam doesn't have awesome jazz but it has awesome bridges.