Um... yeah... about last night...

Driving into New Orleans, you begin to understand what the Hurricane did to this town. Next to beautifully renovated homes are abandoned houses, collapsing in on themselves. We were told in Mobile that after the storm some people just "left" and that is pretty apparant. We talked to a few bartenders who told us that the city has spent 90% of the money to rebuild, but only been 10% restored.



This does not stop anyone from having an insane time in this town.


Meet Pinkee, our bartender at BeerFest on Bourbon St. Pinkee is a pimp. At least, we think so. I mean, the dude told us he's dating 9 hookers between the ages of 18 and 35 and 5 between the ages of 35 and 50. He told us that yesterday he came home and there were 8 girls "playing" on his bed, and that when they left, they put $100 in the "tip jar" he keeps at the end of the bed.


And read his shirt. What would you think if you were us?

See ridiculous website. Warning: Not Suitable for Minors and My Mom
http://www.pinkeeandthewhip.com/

But he does give us an awesome suggestion for dinner. We go to The Gumbo Shop, which has been in its location on St. Peter's since 1945, and is still making incredbile Cajun food. We had jumbalaya, crawfish etouffee, seafood gumbo and alligator sausage (and flies in our water, but that's neither here nor there). It was so good, we didn't talk while we ate. Well, except Mike growled at me when I asked for a bite of his crawfish etouffee.

Then, it was drinking time! Okay, not true. We had already been drinking for 2 hours, but now it was time to REALLY get down to business.

Mom Morris, when you told me about New Orleans, you spoke of Jackson Square and its beautiful gardens, the unique architecture of the French Quarter, of beignets and chicory coffee, of the Mississippi Riverwalk. And we did all of those things.

You left out the part about the billion strip clubs, druken dabauchery and the most powerful drink in N'awlins -- the hand grenade. See picture for details.

Yeah.












So we did see an awesome blues band at the place we're sitting at in the picture. Mike said the guy plays a Telecaster the way a telecaster should be played. However, at one point, there was cow bell...

See top left corner of picture for actual cow bell.

The entire bar applauded when we took this picture. The band did not applaud...

This one was for you, Devin and Cass.





So what does everyone need after a hand grenade, eight beers, and spicy cajun food? Why, Absinthe, of course! I mean, Lousiana is one of only 3 states where its legal to serve Absinthe, and we're not going to the other two, so why not? (We won't tell you all the other two states so you can sit at SportsPage and have a little trivia night now that we are all clear on state capitols). We didn't come to The Big Easy to lay up.

We drank Absinthe with Jenny the bartender at ????? bar that still has our credit card and that is where we met Tim. Tim let us know we left our credit card at the bar, but we were so drunk we didn't get the email until this morning. We still don't have it.

But some chick named Ono has Mike's underwear! Oh yeah, Mike traded one of his only 8 underwear (yeah, you don't get to pack five weeks worth) for A BEER!?!? Well, actually, she wanted them for free, but Mike negotiated a deal.

For the record, the thong she has on under Mike's underwear is not mine.




It was after that bar that things begin to get hazy. We heard a bunch of stories about this bar called the Dungeon, which has loud metal music and Nicolas Cage hip thrusting to Nine Inch Nails and $2 PBRs, but we were so hammered, we walked the wrong way down Bourbon St. and just wound up back at BeerFest.



This is Mike irritated by us being drunk and lost:


Onward and upward today, literally, because we're going to Uptown (and in search of our credit card). Our $9.95 internet session is up at noon today, so no post until Houston. We'll see you then.