Wait, what? I'm supposed to show my husband those pictures?
I kid!
He sees all my pictures (actually I text him pics the whole entire time I'm away and am known to get my feelings hurt if he doesn't respond with something along the lines of "lookin' good baby)." He knows that everything is done in good fun. And he also knows he married a flirt (he's a big flirt too -- our children have no chance). He honestly doesn't care. He trusts me and, like I said, he knows that everything is just done is fun. As long as everyone is (mostly) fully clothed then he's cool.
Now, with that out of the way . . . The Men of New Orleans 2012!
It will take too long as to go into the why (and it would probably bore you if you weren't there even though all of us thought it was one of the FUNNIEST THINGS EVER!!!!!) but every many we met was named Bruce. We generally became acquainted by yelling, "BRUCE!??!"
Yeah. Had to be there.
Say "hi" to Bruce:
Starting from the top:
The Bruce who was our waiter at Mother's
The Bruce who made our first slushy drinks of the weekend
The Bruce Stella* wanted to stuff in her suitcase and take home with her
The Bruce who took a drink from Becky's drink without asking (aka The Disgusting Bruce). Also, after he did this she wiped her straw on MY sleeve. Thanks Bex.
The Bruce who shared his beer
The Bruce with The Dimple
The Bruce who was NOT a Bruce. His name was Malcolm (so yelled at us by the lady who was with him) and he was the one man band who led us to Bourbon Street
The Bruce I don't remember
The Bruce who was friends with the Kenny Chesney look-a-like who got his abs licked (you'll see him in a minute).
* Like Blanca was my alter ego for the weekend, Stella was someone else's alter ego. And she was a bad mammajamma.
I have a really bad habit, when I'm in SEC country, of forcing requesting people call the Hogs with me. This trip was no exception. (I'm sorry, Jenn B., please forgive me).
Doesn't he look like Kenny Chesney? Just a little bit?
Okay, maybe it was the slushy drink talking.
Here we have:
Jersey Shore -- he and his friend threw down $250 on shots for us. And then didn't really try to get in anyone's pants! Also, ab licking was pretty popular that particular night . . .
Oooh, a familiar face!
When I asked these two if they were going to ride the bull, one of them responded with a rather crude remark about what he was going to ride that night.
I have no idea who that guy is.
I have no idea who that guy is.
I insisted this guy take a picture with me. I tried to take it first but one of the pitfalls of being un-tall is that it's really hard to take a picture of yourself with a tall person. Luckily, chivalry isn't too dead and he offered to take the picture.
Last year we found a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle . . . this year -- a gladiator! I love New Orleans!
There was a fairly lengthy conversation about football with these two.
Joshua, the cab driver who became my BFF
We met this next group as Becky and I were walking down Bourbon Street Saturday night. I'm pretty sure I told the dark haired one that I thought he was "adorable" and it went from there . . .
They Tebow'd and Brady'd for us
I'm still not sure whether to be amazed or grossed out that Homeboy sat down on Bourbon Street. Eww.
We made friends with Scott at the bar at Pat O'Brien's. He's from Corpus Christi, Texas, and HANDS DOWN was the nicest guy we met the whole weekend. (Probably helps that he was there with his wife!)
More from Pat O's . . .
Calling the Hogs with an LSU fan (sorry again, Jenn!)
The bartender -- he took away my Hurricane glass before I had a chance to eat the cherry. When I said something about it, he sat a napkin in front of me FULL of cherries and orange slices. Good bartender.
Bachelor party
Aaaaand bachelor party
70's Porn Mustache guy who was all too happy to make out with Becky
I can't believe she's still speaking to me . . . .
This is Fetus and Zygote. They were both born in the 90's -- hence the nicknames.
They were also both Marines and I swear I amazed them when I told them my husband served in the first Gulf War. "Like, your husband is old enough to be my dad?"
Now Zygote -- he could give lessons on what NOT to say if you're aiming to be Cougar Bait. (And, please, I'm only 31. I AM NOT A COUGAR). This one, though, first off tells me:
"I've been with married women before. I don't mind it."
Oh! How very noble of you. Let me drop my panties right here in the bar!
"I've been with older women."
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. I am NOT an older woman! Gah! Kill me! Now!
Kira wanted to go salsa dancing after dinner Sunday night and I went with her. By the time we got the salsa place, it was closing down (this did not stop me from getting an impromptu lesson, by the way). But we still spent quite a bit of time there talking to everybody.
Giovani, professional salsa dancer
Owner of the bar
The guy who followed us around most of the rest of the night because he wanted a little bitta Blanca
The hottie bartender
We ran into our bartender from Friday night at Bourbon Cowboy a couple nights later. He had freakishly small eyebrows.
With the exception of Giovani the Salsa Dancer, I have no idea who any of these dudes are. Blanca and her damn tequila . . . erased my memory . . .
^ Yeah, ditto all of that. No idea on this guy.
Calling the Hogs AGAIN.
Mr. Modesty
The guy I'm standing next to - his name is Sean - drew a map for Becky and I to get to House of Blues Saturday night. When I saw him again, I demanded a picture.
This is Alan -- he is a local and owns condos in the area. I'm pretty sure he would be glad to rent to us at a discount rate if we signed a release for the cameras and all . . .
Mari's friend Joe -- for whatever reason (*ahem* tequila) we thought he looked SO MUCH like our friend Vanessa. He does not.
I'm embarrased to even have included this last picture -- mainly because I'm standing way too close to Dude. But. He had a tatoo of a COBWEB on his EAR. Who does that?
