Come inside my world

I wish the entire year looked and felt like spring in late march in north Florida.
I believe my fear of rejection has crippled a vital span of my life.
I aim low because it's my belief that when I aim high, things can't possibly meet such expectations. Me and my dreaming big, eh?
I'm always apprehensive about calling, text messaging, IM'ing and any other form of reaching out to people because I always feel like I'm imposing on their free time.
I'm not a simple man and neither are my tastes, despite appearances.
I love writing and appreciate when writing's done well, i.e. song lyrics, scripts, magazine articles, etc.
If I lose a lot of weight and someone decides to do one of those before-and-after photos, I want my before/fat photo to be one of me smiling and or having a good time. I'm not a sad/disgruntled person.
Having said that, sometimes I just want to be left the fuck alone and not talk to anyone or do anything.
But most times, I crave interaction with other people.
I wish I could be the center of attention (in a good way) when I go out.
I believe hard work and skill speaks for itself, and as a result, I don't ass kiss.
I wish people loved Y Tu Mama Tambien as much as I do.
When it comes to friends, it's definitely about quality, not quantity. Who wants a lot of half-assing friends?
I hate hate hate hate hate my bald spot and gimpy leg. The gap in my teeth, though, I feels makes me more distinguished.
I love love love love love that I'm awkward and weird and random because trying to be like the masses seems like way more work than I'm willing to put into anything
I don't care if I ever get married; I won't rule it out, but I never pray about it happening. But I do not want kids.
I wish there was at least on person who truly got me 100 percent.
I make it a point to have at least one great belly-aching laugh a day.
The older I get, the less fucks I give. And the less shame I have.
At least twice a day, I think of going to the bank, getting every dime I have to my name, getting in my car, and just driving somewhere far and never returning.
If I won a huge lottery, I would put half of it in an interest-earning acct, and with the rest I'd travel the world non-stop.
I have wanted to write scripts for quite a while, but Tarantino makes me want to direct.
I don't have lots of close friends, but the ones I have I treasure more than they could imagine.
I hate when the biggest deciding factor behind any choice is wondering what people would think of you if you did or didn't do what you're deciding to do.
I love standing in the rain with no umbrella and just enjoying what God has given me.
I have an unexplained and oddball fascination with cornfields. Whenever I pass one, I want to pull over, get out of the car and frolic in the corn.
I find myself fascinated by how people look naked. People go through a lot to dress themselves and present their personality to the world via clothes and accessories. But seeing them naked is almost like seeing who they really are.
I get bored easily.
I always feel like people are hanging out without me.
If I knew I could live forever without, I would devote one day to doing every drug known to man, drive a motorcycle extremely fast, and go skydiving once a week.
I always thing about what life would be like if I had super powers. Telepathy is boss.
I think it's time I stopped.

Laissez les bons temps rouler

Once upon a time, there were four fun-seeking and free-spirited young adults who wanted to travel to New Orleans to take part in Mardi Gras. There was Beaumont the Devilish, Jack the Awkward, Simon the Inappropriate and Winston the Mischievous.

The members became whole in Tallahassee and made their way to the Big easy, stopping only to pee, get gas…and to sleep for six hours in a cheap Mississippi (redundant, much?) motel. Arriving in N’Awlins too early to check into their ridiculously over-priced hotel, our heroes hit the town early in the afternoon in search of beignets (ben-yays), crawfish and alcoholic beverages. Please don’t bother judging the group; they’re all adults and fully-functioning members of society. If they want to have hard liquor at 1 p.m., goddamnit, they are allowed that privilege.

Having not showered in more than 24 hours, the group members were happy to finally check in, shower and grab a power nap to prepare for the night’s adventures. Awake, dressed, and tipsy off two bottles of wine between the four of them, Jack, Simon, Winston and Beaumont made their way to the nearest 4 Loko dispensary they could find. Unwisely, they ignored the prophetic words of a wise local black man on the streets. “Y’all brown baggin’ 4 Loko? Y’all gon get fucked up! Don’t drink two.”


Fast forward about an hour later, Jack’s drunk as shit at 6 p.m. They crew is still drinking, in Popeye's, and Jack’s making Katrina and levee jokes…loudly! Realizing he was too drunk too early, Jack threw away the Loko and the quartet made their way to the parade. Being the first there for the parade meant we were front row once the festivities started. Later, Beaumont, Winston and Jack decided it was time for another Loko, while Simon wisely opted for a Bud Lite. Simon’s wisdom was a godsend and presumably kept one, maybe two, of the group members out of jail.

What started as a trip to drop off some of their beads in the hotel room turned into chaos. Beaumont, drunk off life, two cups of wine and two and a third cans of Loko, was put under constant supervision by the group. Winston, the enabler of many things wicked, didn’t have as much of the Loko as Beaumont, but was just as drunk. Among many things, the two raced down the hotel hallways and threw numerous broken beads around the hotel room. Beaumont even began demolishing the metal towel rack in the hotel bathroom.

Jack, merely partially drunk, went into wrangler mode, taking it upon themselves to talk down the two drunkards and, in numerous instances, physically restrain Beaumont from leaving the hotel. But the devilishly elusive Winston could not be contained, and headed out into the night. Not wanting to leave Beaumont -- now passed out -- alone, for fear he’d wake up drunkenly disoriented and expose himself to the public, Jack and Simon called it an early night and were asleep before 1 a.m.

On Saturday, after Winston and Beaumont slept off the booze, the group had some orgasm-inducing Cajun food. They then checked out of their hotel and loaded up their car just in time to get caught in parade, stand-still traffic while baby Hurricane Katrina pelted the city. Incredibly cranky, our weary companions were finally able to drive in the rain 35 miles -- 24 of which were over one bridge -- to their hotel for Saturday night.

Determined not to let dickhole-like weather muck up what was meant to be an awesome trip, the four took solace in the cause of and solution to all life’s problems, booze. At Daiquiris and Creams (yes, Creams), they discovered they could buy daiquiris in the following sizes: small, medium, large, half gallon and gallon! Simon and Jack drank half of their half gallon daiquiris, took the party to Outback (thanks, N’Awlins, for not having open container laws) and got ready for the night’s festivities.

Simon, Jack and Beaumont had no idea Bourbon St. would be so densely packed. After fighting their way through the crowd to get to the Hand Grenade hut, seeing titties of various sizes, colors and pleasantness along the way, the gang shelled out $5 to set up shop on a balcony to be more discriminate with the way they distributed their beads. The rain may have left behind winds and chilly temperatures, but the crew didn’t it ruin their night. They gave out beads, saw someone they knew from home, ate a diet-mutilating (and thereby great) burger, made fun of a half naked woman drunkenly rolling around in garbage juice, among other things. And one of them, not the one society would dictate, even earned a gift of his own.

Sunday arrived and with it, came time for our protagonists to head home. But not before someone got tattooed. Leaving New Orleans around 1 p.m., our weary heroes made it to Tallahassee around 10 p.m. to drop off one of their companions. Thanks to almost no gas stations being open when the car carrying the remaining three was almost on E and a hellishly slow drive on a 10-mile stretch of road when they were 28 miles away from home, the three arrived at their homes in less than stellar mood. Subsequently, two of the group members were “sick” when it came to work the following morning.

Although there was an early night and the weather kept us from doing some of the things on our list, Amanda, Andrew, Matt and I had a great time in New Orleans. We came back with this story and many more that would make this blog way longer than it already is. When/if we ever go back to Mardi Gras, we will have learned from out mistakes (easy on the Loko, book hotels more in advance) and build on the good times we had (eat more great food, bring our own booze so we can save money but still get good and drunk). And as fun as road trips are, if money allows, we’re flying. I hope you had as much fun reading about the adventures of the Fantastic Four as we did living them. We continually live happily ever after.