It's Raining Men - Southern Decadence

Labor Day weekend brought three days of rain.  Non. Stop. Rain.  Not that something like a tropical storm or a hurricane could put a damper on the Southern Decadence celebrations.  In 2008 when Hurricane Gustav was approaching the city, the only party still going on was Southern Decadence.  While deciding whether or not to brave the rain this year I checked the festival's website and its statement "It's raining men" was too funny for me to not go to the parade.  Here's some of what I saw. 

It's 130 days after Mardi Gras, let's celebrate with a parade!

I love talking to friends and family in Ohio about all the stuff that goes on down here in New Orleans.  Last weekend was Midsummer Mardi Gras.  They ask what Midsummer Mardi Gras is and I tell them that it's the "six months after Mardi Gras" parade starting on Oak Street.  I never really thought about it like that before, but you gotta respect the city that marks time between festivals and holidays by having more festivals.

Guys - Put on something fabulous and grab your boyfriends because Southern Decadence Festival is next.

-10 points for our lack of costume planning.  +10 points to the photo bomber in the background.

Dudes (and ladies) in dresses: Red Dress Run 2011

I had a great time at the Red Dress Run this year, despite some communications issues that led to there not being much of an actual run.  As usual, the crowds took liberal interpretations of what constitutes a "red dress" to make for some hilarious, beautiful, and downright disgusting sights.  I would've stayed in the quarter later into the evening, but I think the folks at the black tie gala that I photographed right afterward are glad I showered first.

Meet Romeo.  Partier, lady killer, ...bird. 

Mrs. Mad Hatter

There's a fine line between what dancing and stripping looks like.

Your earrings really bring out the color in your mustache.  

This off the shoulder piece allowed the meat cleaver tattoos to shine.

Lesson for festival goers:  Liquor results in less urine than beer.

Holding the swings while the kids waited in the beer line.

Why there are currently no red dresses in any stores within 30 miles of the city.  

The Red Dress... hula hoop?

"Dude, I'm serious.  Put on a dress and meet me in the French Quarter."

It's good to see our nation's first people represented.  

...sorry, man, that's not your shade of lipstick.  

Yes, I know what's down there, please don't raise the kilt. 

Just a typical Saturday in New Orleans.

What to do when you get rained out

...and this is the festival BEFORE it rained.

I took the streetcar down to the French Quarter to check out Satchmo Festival for a while on Sunday.  It was ridiculously hot and steamy out, even for New Orleans.  I should've know that by the time I got down there, the sauna would quickly turn into a shower.  Tourists ran for cover, I figured I'd get bloody mary and try to wait it out.  A few spicy beans and olives later, I was ready to move on, rain or not.

There's something refreshing about going for a long walk in the rain.  The water clears the streets of people and its normal layer of grime.  It cools everything down to an almost tolerable temperature.  I covered block after block through the Quarter to Canal Street.  I walked into the casino a dripping mess, promising that I was only passing through.  Crossing under Poydras St. I came out to walk along Convention Center Blvd. through more rain, thunder, and the pools of water now starting to converge on the streets.

As nice as the rain can be, covering over a mile in it on foot can leave you open to relief.  I veered into the Riverwalk, happy to be in public place where I could wander around and people watch while I dried off.  After looping the colorful sights and smells of the food court I paused to listen to a damn good parody of Cee Lo Green's "Forget You" as done by the guy doing the fudge making demonstration.  Stopping to take a few photos of the candy dispensers, somebody who was undoubtedly a veteran fresh from a visit to the National WWII Museum down the street asked me if I was inspecting for bugs.  Why yes, sir, I am, but only in the Skittles and Chiclets.  Nobody, man or bug, would ever eat a Mike and Ike.

I emerged from the Riverwalk to find that the rain had finally stopped.  A few blocks up to St. Charles, and I was soon back on the streetcar heading home.  My clothes were soggy for the next couple of hours, but altogether, not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon.

Running of the Bulls in New Orleans: Dancing, Limbo, and General Madness

I've never been to the actual running of the bulls in Spain, but I'd imagine it would involve a whole lot of "Oh f*ck!" and "Somebody get that hombre to a hospital." type of moments.  There's something to be said for trading a dozen 2,000 pound animals with pointy horns for this:   

The 2011 Festival de San Fermin en Nueva Orleans had something like 400 roller derby girls released into an estimated crowd of 10,000 people.  Though probably not as dangerous as a pissed off bull, these ladies really knew how to beat some ass (literally) with their plastic baseball bats.  This year was bigger and better organized than in the past and it needs to keep going and growing.  Until we can all get to Pamplona, I'm sure there are a lot of people happy with their wiffle bat welts.     

Dancing, limbo, ...and general madness

I'm getting one of these for my back yard...

I call this picture "Impending Faceplant"

Admit it - you're aroused. 

Because bulls hate LSU...

I used to say I wanted to die in a skydiving accident as a very old man.  This takes a close second. 

"Why are all these people interrupting drum practice?"

A slightly different crop of this picture, and you'd think he was riding a real bull. 

"Someday, Timmy, you can be drunk and running from costumed girls on roller skates at 8 in the morning, too.

Are you ready for the bulls?

One of my favorite New Orleans events is merely hours away.  While some day I'd like to run with the actual bulls in Pamplona, this will have to do for now.  Early morning beverages, Elvis impersonators everywhere, roller derby girls ready to spank everybody in sight - how could this ever not be fun?

A few pictures from last year's Festival de San Fermin, Nueva Orleans.  Look out for pics from 2011 soon.

If Vegas oddsmakers saw my "new" place.

At the end of May I moved into one half of a shotgun house in the Uptown area of New Orleans.  Living within walking distance of bars, restaurants, libraries, the streetcars, the river, etc. is wonderful, and I don't think I could go back to living in a massive, characterless apartment complex any time soon.  The tradeoff, however, means living in a building that is probably 150 years old, and has all of the problems associated with such an ...um... historical property.

To enhance the fun of dealing with the new place, I'm now accepting wagers on various aspects of the house.  I've even been kind enough to give you some odds and considerations for your bets. Come on, who wants in on this action? 

Odds that door handles stay latched - 2 to 1
Considerations:
We're told that these door knobs were salvaged from the first hotel in Washington, D.C.  That doesn't mean that there were properly installed.

Odds of electrical outlets giving somebody a shock - 500 to 1
Considerations:
This house has probably been wired and rewired over the years, and has a mix of both grounded and ungrounded outlets.  Odds of having a grounded outlet when you need one?  Not good... not good at all.

Odds of getting tetanus by sitting in one of our backyard chairs - 100 to 1
Considerations:
That's for people that sit in the chairs.  The odds of somebody actually sitting in them are less.  The greatest risk is probably falling through rusty spots, and at this point, the chairs are made entirely of iron oxide and blue paint.

Odds of the walls being made up of more termites than wood - 1000 to 1
Considerations:
There's visible termite damage in several places, but they send somebody out to check and spray every year.  The guy this year talked to me about playing Rock Band and then proceeded to scale a tree in our back yard.  Thorough enough of a check for me.

Blowing myself up with my ancient gas oven - 2 to 1
Considerations:
To blow myself up it would mean that I was attempting to use the oven.  If I was attempting to use the oven, I was probably trying to blow myself up, because I surely wasn't trying to cook anything.

Odds of having insulation - Infinity to 1

Considerations:

It's a shotgun house in New Orleans; it aint gonna happen. 










P.S. I'm not really accepting wagers, but I will accept donations to pay for the tetanus shots of my visitors.