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Lesbian Nuns at Broad Theater
It all starts with a text from my friend, Trent, who wants to know if I would be interested in attending a screening with him at The Broad in a few hours. This is a bit unusual because it’s a Wednesday and Trent’s a busy career boy during the week. But he explains that he has this dreadful sense that the Covid is about to act up again in a big way and wants to see as many movies in the theater before that happens (this is back in early December, when Omnicron is still only a whisper, something happening in far off countries across the oceans. Of course, that’s…
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Mother of an Apple Picker
The first tour I took out after Hurricane Ida hit was a memorable one, to say the least. At that point it had been three weeks since that windy motherfucker had come and gone and the French Quarter, like the rest of the city, was still reeling. Most of the power had returned by now, but there was still the odd streetlight, cornerstore, or even entire half-block that remained dark. And these powerless blemishes peppered the quarter, creating a sort of patchwork quilt of dark and light that gave off the impression of a night full of danger. There was also the disturbing chest-high stack of storm debris and black…
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The Audacity of the Pisser
When I tell people that one time, in the middle of a tour, a man in my group unzipped his fly and began to urniate right then and there, I usually get the same response: “That only happened one time?” And yeah, har har, I get it. All you have to do is take a stroll down Bourbon Street and let the wafts of urine-scented sidewalks invade your nostrils to know that public urination isn’t exactly a rarity in this weird world I work in. BUT… just to answer that question: yes, it only happened one time, thank you very much. Because even drunk tourists generally know it’s not okay…
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Protected: The Blasphemy of the Pooper (patreon only)
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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The Kiss That Never Was
Hello there! Welcome to my newest blog: My Silly Little Love Life, where I share my various hilarious first dates with all of you because I am a whore for attention. Hooray! So This story takes place during the height of the pre-vax Covid era, in the summer and fall of 2020, where I developed an addiction of sorts to online dating. And by that I don’t just mean messaging strangers online or zoom dates (although I did plenty of that), but also meeting up in person with whoever was willing in those uncertain times. To state the obvious, compulsively dating during a global pandemic is not a smart thing…
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Matching Tattoos
So this happened a few weeks ago on a Friday night ghost tour and I just can’t seem to get it out of my head, so I’ll share it now in hopes of trying to make sense of it. The tour itself was nothing special. Actually if I recall correctly the only thing noteworthy about it was just how well-behaved everyone was. It was a group of about fifteen, all of whom simply wanted to quietly listen to some ghost stories while following my instructions to the letter. As a guide, you couldn’t ask for more, really. The only thing that stood out to me about this tour was this…
