Non-Fiction
-
My Disastrous Debut Tour; or How I Was Attacked and Humiliated by a Blowup Doll
My first tour I ever gave was on Halloween night. And in case you were wondering, that’s pretty much the worst day to ever pop your cherry as a ghost tour guide, as the quarter is just a madhouse of costumes, drunks, and agitators. You can probably picture it in your head right now. Even the most seasoned veteran guide has their troubles during Devil’s night, but if you’re a brand spanking new tour guide, it truly becomes a trial by fire. What made my situation even worse was that in the days, weeks, and months leading up to then I had all the time in the world to do…
-
A Near Murder on a Ghost Tour!
So this all happens on a pub crawl tour, a haunted pub crawl tour, to be precise. This can be a great tour at times. And at other times, not so much. This is a story of a not-so-great time, where I am in charge of guiding a bachelor party of five to four different bars in two hours. Before the tour even starts I know this might be a challenge. I have no idea how stupid things are gonna get though. Our first stop is relatively harmless. We enter this restaurant/bar on the corner of Bourbon and St Peter, and go upstairs to the 2nd floor bar to get…
-
Protected: (Patreon)My Date with the Bitter Ex-Husband
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
-
Protected: (Patreon) ELEVEN TIPS ON HOW TO BE A BETTER GUEST ON MY TOUR
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
-
Protected: (Patreon) A (Bizarre) Tale of… EXTORTION!
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
-
A Serious Attack
It all started at noon in the park. I had just finished that Hemmingway documentary on PBS which inspired me to come out to nature and re-read the first couple of chapters of The Sun Also Rises. It was a lovely, sun-filled day, the perfect day for this sort of thing. Of course I should be in my room writing, but sometimes you have to follow your heart. So there I am at my favorite park picnic table by the water, reading my book and feeling pretty good about things overall. And then, can you believe it, a chicken pops out from the line of trees that border the water…
-
Strippers and Covid: A love story
I wasn’t going to share this story, mainly because it doesn’t cast me in the best of light, for a variety of reasons, and I gotta figure at some point I’m gonna find someone else to date down the line, and when I do, and she finds this post, I’m not sure what I’ll say. But you know what? It’s Mardi Gras day and there’s no fucking Mardi Gras. And that’s not because of the sleet of ice on the ground or the frosty wind in the air, it’s because of that incurable disease known as human stupidity, and I’m all up in my feels about it. And since this…
-
Post #10: Saying Goodbye to Rockbottom with One Last Escape
Something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is definitely wrong. But what? I’ve made the proper preparations for the perfect evening. My phone is completely charged, my youtube playlist is ready to go. I have a case of cold light beer chilling in the fridge, I have three separate flasks full of whiskey in three separate rooms, and I’m wearing my freshest socks to ensure some slick risky business-esque slides. Everything is primed for an epic last escape. And yet, something is off. I go and look in the mirror and see perfection smiling back at me. I look like a million bucks with my…
-
Post #9: Looking For a New Home For a Hot Little Pepper
Back in the Before Times, when I used to socialize with others, I had this little trick I would use whenever I felt myself getting angry around my friends (you wouldn’t know it from this blog, but I do have a temper and on occasion I have to be sure to keep it in check). The trick is fairly simple. All I would do when I felt the heat burning underneath my collar was to just say out loud, matter-of-factly, to everyone around me: “You know what, I am a hot little pepper right now.” This is a very effective trick, I’ve learned, because it turns out it’s almost impossible…
-
Post #8: The Landlady Eviction and the Online Outrage That Followed
I turn onto my street from City Park Ave and I feel better than I ever. Sure, my calves are burning like little fires and my ankles are screaming bloody murder, but I’m barely aware any of that, I’m practically floating for this final stretch. Part of this sensation has to do, I imagine, with that runner’s high that athletes love to talk about. I’m finishing up a jog that took me through the park and along the bayou, and then down to the post office and back. That’s a good five miles that definitely sent me on an endorphin rush. So sure, that undoubtedly has something to do with…
