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> Tails of the Cockatoo, 2013, Each Hurrah Could Be Our Last
Artemis
post Jul 24 2013, 10:09 PM
Post #31


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Thank you, Hillbilly and Absomphe. The story isn't complete yet; I'll attempt to finish it before I lose motivation.

If G&C was there, he didn't approach and I didn't notice him. I think not, though, probably a look-alike.


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Il arrive souvent que les personnes couvertes d’esprit enflamme courent en appelant du secours.
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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 10:15 PM
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QUOTE(Jack Batemaster @ Jul 24 2013, 08:12 AM) *

« L'os drôle » Martnez et son frère « Petit Michel »

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AuDrXRLrLA…player_embedded

Hahahahahah… you motherfucker.


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O how noble it appeared to my childish admiration when he returned… indifferent to the violent scenes and mute reproaches alike.
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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 10:50 PM
Post #33


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So, Friday night we got into the old stuff and the 1,000-yard stares began…

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Good food, good absinthe and best of all… great friends.


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O how noble it appeared to my childish admiration when he returned… indifferent to the violent scenes and mute reproaches alike.
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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 10:55 PM
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Fast-forward to Saturday… we hoofed it to Hotel Monteleone for check-in.

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Then grabbed a few drinks, walked the spaces of the French Quarter and eventually connected with Tirador at the Carousel… who enjoys good booze. Don't you, Tirador?

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Tirador says "yes".


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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 10:57 PM
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Took in the sights, and readied for a long night of debauchery.

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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 10:58 PM
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Grim
post Jul 24 2013, 11:05 PM
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And then after some misbehavior… and toweling off… we crashed Juniperlooza at the Sugar Mill.

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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 12:53 AM
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Hunger set in at Peter's house, so we slipped away to Felix's Oyster House. Oysters are not in season, but the rest of the gang ate them anyway. I tried a sampler of red beans, crawfish etouffee, and jambalaya that raised the heartburn that was already torturing me to an unbearable level. A nearby drugstore had an empty space where the Maalox used to be - Tales. Green Imp offered Altoids, and damn, those things work (for a little while).
Back on the street, Grim renewed his appreciation for the beautiful women everywhere.
"Laigs!", he would say.





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Il arrive souvent que les personnes couvertes d’esprit enflamme courent en appelant du secours.
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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 01:16 AM
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Yet, the possibility of obtaining free pussy remained remote.



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Alan
post Jul 25 2013, 09:52 AM
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I don't know what you did to that pussy: it was OK when I was there:

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Alan
post Jul 25 2013, 09:56 AM
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Outside the Monteleone:

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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 05:19 PM
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Alan was out standing in front of the hotel, waiting for a ride when I encountered him; too bad we didn't have time for a drink in cooler surroundings. A beautiful blonde blue-eyed Brit woman was thanking him for his presentation on absinthe (which I didn't see; I didn't think there were any), for which she had come to New Orleans all the way from London.

Also while standing out there, someone in the crowd shouted (Grim's actual full name). It turned out to be a friend from elementary school who hadn't seen him since then!

Later, an attractive woman was trying to talk one of the hotel staff into driving her and her party to Drago's in the hotel Cadillac Escalade. Grim came out and said let's go to Drago's. I said, "that's where she's going", pointing to the rear end of the woman, who was getting into a cab, her attempt to hijack the Cadillac having fallen on deaf ears. "I know, and we're going too", said Grim. But I didn't want to go. Grim went off to the robot bank on the corner and never returned. The rest of us retired to the hotel lobby, waited a long time, and still no Grim, so Green Imp returned to his hotel and Michael and I to our room, where we fell asleep.


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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 05:32 PM
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We were awakened by a wild monkey jumping from bed to bed and body slamming us. It was Grim, who explained that he had encountered a wet woman in a swimsuit on the street and been invited past a gate to a pool party in a courtyard. He said the women in the pool were nekkid (he had pictures to prove it). And so he had taken the plunge. And left his underwear there. The pool crew had moved on to another party in some burnt-out warehouse near the docks, one of those affairs with laser beams, dangerous drugs and DJs wearing neon mouse heads. But Grim had another venue in mind, the Juniperlooza.

I told the younguns I was burnt out and hearburnt, but they should go ahead. But when they got there, there was a line, and a list. And they weren't on the list. The list was held by a woman with handcuffs in fishnet stockings, a thong and a cop hat. So Grim pulled a Ferris Bueller, and gave the name of an industry big shot (no, not Abe Fromman, the sausage king of Chicago), and they were immediately admitted.

The attendants wore the same outfit as the listkeeper, everything was free, and the gin fizzes were flowing, and it was no sausage fest (sorry, Abe) - the women outnumbered the men ten to one. Or so Grim reported, but by now I knew better than to doubt him.


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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 05:48 PM
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Our adventurers found their way back onto Bourbon Street, and Michael, despairing of finding a potion that would calm the enfant sauvage, turned to shots of raw, hot Tequila. After this, Grim was still mobile, but effectively lobotomized. They encountered a group of transvestites in fish net, admiring the horse of a cop (or maybe the cop on the horse). Grim saw a photo opportunity in poking the mare's twat, and although disabused (guaranteed jail time), nevertheless invoked his LAIGS! mantra upon the horse lovers, apparently thinking they were female (he says he doesn't remember any of this).


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Artemis
post Jul 25 2013, 06:12 PM
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Sunday morning it was raining, and after a decent night's sleep I felt almost human. But once in my life have I had a decent pillow in a hotel, and this was not it. I don't remember where it was. There's no money in absinthe, but if someone could pitch a decent pillow to the hotels of America, he could make a fortune.

The hungover people woke up barely in time to clear out (the maid was already knocking on the door). Hiding the toilet paper only fazed Grim momentarily, and he made an attempt to use Michael's $300 Drew Brees jersey, which he had been attempting to molest all weekend, for which he was summarily body-slammed. Grim can handle himself, but you don't want to mess with Michael.

There was a text message or two from people about breakfast, which of course had long been missed. The descriptions seemed a little pinky-in-the-air: an exclusive little brunchy place just off the quarter, trendy yet disgruntled, favored by vampires and retired masseurs ...

So we settled for the I Hop on Canal Street, but there was a line. I don't stand in line for much of anything; surely not I Hop. So back to the hotel for the buffet at The Criollo, which was satisfactory, many selections in those shiny dome-icular serving things and cheap (by Monteleone standards) bloody marys.
They feature lobster and Kobe beef omelets made to order, but they were out of both. Biscuits and sausage gravy is good enough for me, though.

So as we were getting into the truck, Grim went back into the bar and returned with gin fizzes to go. He had even talked the bartender into dropping the yolk into them (not the first time he had done so, and they're loathe to do it, but at Tales the learning goes both ways).

So we drove to the airport in the rain, drank a final toast, and dropped Grim at the curb, and over the river and through the woods, to Grandma's house ... (I wish; I miss her).

Finis.


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