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This will probably not be proof-read:

I don't know why I keep failing to get on here, but I've been a little busy! Fuck it, hit on the rundown:

I last posted on April 16th. I did not go to the Mariners game that night because I felt a cold coming on and I didn't want to fuck with a fucking cold.

I went down to Tacoma on the 17th because there was this bar that Jake wanted me to try. It serves all kinds of cooked wieners in buns, and has Rainier on tap for cheap. And pinball. Lord of the Rings pinball. And pins. As in the round kinds you PIN to your shirt. Many pins have slogans or catch phrases like "You Go Girl" or "Talk to the Hand". With a picture of a hand. Or a sassy girl. These pins had pictures of characters from the original Planet of the Apes. Or different types of meats. I got a pin of a raw steak, and it was only 50 cents!

That night we podcasted. Then the next day I woke up and bowled with my dad and uncle. They had to pre-bowl because the following day they were going on a weeklong trip to Las Vegas.

Then, let's see, I think I just took 'er easy on Sunday and rolled back into Seattle. Then nothing happened until the 22nd. The last week of the fourth quarter in bowling. My brother's team was fighting for their lives to get into the Final Four. They were hounded by poor sport asshole fuckwads who kept calling them sandbaggers (ring a bell? That happened to my team as we won the third quarter; fuck a guy for improving at his craft!), and ended up winning 3 out of 4. That was good enough to get them into a 1-game roll-off with another team who ended up winning 4 out of their 4 games. With my dad and uncle on vacation, my brother's team had to take their averages minus 10 pins. They ended up losing by 11, narrowly missing the Final Four.

I spent the night in Tacoma that night, going to bed around 11 or so. Got woke up around 5:30am, insanely tired, bussed to work like oh so many times I did when I used to live in Tacoma and work in Downtown Seattle. Worked all day, finalized my shit (i.e. made arrangements to get a tattoo in New Orleans, took out money from my Wells Fargo account and put it into my Chase/Wamu account, et al.), went home, took a nap. Woke up around 7 or 8pm after three solid hours of sleep, packed my backpack, gathered my digital camera, arranged for a ride from my brother to the airport, got there around 10:30pm, took the 11:30pm flight out of Seatac to New Orleans via Houston.

Got to Houston around 6am, switched planes, got to New Orleans at around 8:30am, April 24, 2009.

Hired a cab to take me to the Holiday Inn Express (HIE) 2 blocks from the French Quarter. Paid the man $40 on a $30 trip, checked my backpack with the bellhop, set out for Bourbon Street from Canal Street, got breakfast (cajun hash browns and a pastry and an iced tea), then set out for the African American History Museum. Did not go to the African American History Museum because I got distracted by the Louis Armstrong Memorial Park (giant statue of the man in the middle) and the St. Louis Cemetery 1 (where they filmed the iconic scene in Easy Rider, though I was missing out on the LSD experience). Took a TON of pictures, then walked back down toward the Quarter to Frenchman St. To Electric Ladyland. To the tattoo parlor.

I got this. I like Hunter S. Thompson. I got there at 12:30pm (they open at noon) and waited around for about an hour until they finall started on me. Finished at around 2:30pm (it's on my left calf muscle), it's almost fully healed (we were touch and go for a while, I would later be told that it's infected and advised by numerous people on how to treat the fucker). I called Kon, who had left me a voicemail, and who had driven into town from Houston. He was at the hotel, so I made the half-hour walk down Royal St toward Canal. Saw a ton of shops that I would never get a chance to patronize (sorry souvenier lovers ...), saw a bunch of street musicians who I'd seen earlier that morning (hardest workers in all the land), and saw the statue of fictional character Ignatius J. Reilly from my favorite book of all time (A Confederacy of Dunces) and failed to get my picture taken with it (looks like I have something to plan for next year).

Met up with Kon at the HIE around 3pm, our room wasn't ready. We wanted one on the quiet side of the building, not the Bourbon St side (or Carondelet, but who's splitting hairs here?), so we went out for lunch. Po' Boys all around! Count 'em, that's 1 (crawfish).

Came back, checked in, lugged Kon's mammoth alcohol supply WITH cooler from the parking garage, down the street, around the corner, and back to the HIE (no, the parking garage WASN'T connected to the hotel ... what do you think this is, a Holiday Inn Express? Oh, wait ...).

At this point I want to say we either sat around and chilled, or walked around and then returned to chill. Regardless, we ended up later meeting with two of Kon's friends, Andy and Scott. I had already started drinking beer at this point and was in no mood for dinner, but the rest of them saddled up and knocked 'em back. Then we went out. To Frenchman Street.

There was a live band in a bar (bought a $10 CD), there was live music outside, there was lots of beer and lots of people (but not too much people). At this point, I was going on very little sleep though. Sporadic naps on the planes, no real nap to speak of that day, so around 2am I was crashing hard. I made a bee-line for a crappy pizza place (the second one of the day, as I got a quick slice right before I got my tattoo), told Kon and Co. to go away, ate one slice and took the second back with me to the hotel room. Finished it there, went to sleep.

Didn't wake up until after noon on Saturday. Kon made it down for the complimentary continental breakfast and brought me back some bacon and sausage and biscuit and cinnamon roll. We met up with Andy and Scooter down on Jackson Square. Took pictures of the St. Louis Cathedral, some ferocious lions, General Andrew Jackson, the Mississippi River, and then caught a cab to take us to Jazzfest. $5 per person and a hijacking later, we piled out of the vancab and went straight for the food. And daquiris. And Blues Tent. And other stuff. And more food. And finally around 5:30, Wilco. Awesome, all around, awesome. Bought a straw hat, couldn't have looked more cooler if I tried.

Left the fest around 7ish (that's when it ends, with plenty of time for partying). Got in the line for taxi cabs. Waited in line for taxi cabs. Waited in line for taxi cabs. Waited in line for taxi cabs. waitedinline for tasi cabs. waitedindlinefortaxicabs.waitedinlinefortassicass. twawidnedinlineforotasicabis...

90,000 leagues under the sea later, we finally set ass in a taxi cab. We really should've walked the 3 miles back to the Quarter, who's bright idea was it to stay? Scooter! After a nice hour's sit-break, we left the HIE at around 10pm. Dinner time. Still plenty of time for partying. Had me another Po' Boy (2), full of fried shrimp and oysters I think? And a fresh fruit hurricane. Then we went BACK to Frenchman St. Dueling Brass Bands on the street drew a mighty crowd. Strawberry Cigars drew my affectionate attention. Oh, can't forget the Hand Grenades! Shit man, had a Hand Grenade in there! Before dinner I believe. Imagine this penis-like green tube, with a grenade shaped bottom, full of sugar and liquor and ecstacy. Lots of liquor. Sooooo tasty. Most people don't like them, say they're too sweet, but then again most people also make it a point to GET them because they're a tourist's tradition. Whatever, I thought they were tasty.

So, I was telling this joke that I learned. What's the difference between a Hooker and an Onion - I cry when I cut an Onion. And someone said I should make that my pick-up line for the night. So, I went around saying that joke to pretty much every lady I saw, to varying degrees of amusement. One drunken fool thought it was awesome and hung around for a while, but we ditched them at the karaoke bar. That was when Scooter decided it would be a good idea to scale the outside of the building and hang off of the security camera. He was chased down and threatened with demanding words from the bouncers of the bar, but nothing was made of it. Shit man, if you don't want drunken fools hanging off of your security cameras, plant them higher off the ground motherfucker!

As you can see, the timeline is fading. I was pretty drunk that night. Green dreams entered into the equation. And 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon turned into 24 Degrees of Kevin Bacon. And Kon and I stumbled back to the HIE a little before dawn. 6am in New Orleans, nothing like it.

On Sunday, we forced ourselves out of bed at around noon again. With Andy and Scooter gone, it was just me and Kon. Caught a cab to Jazzfest, Blues Tent, Gospel Tent, Jazz Tent, Alligator Po' Boy (3), Grey Goose snuck inside a water bottle, drinking and walking and sun and straw hat and bandaged up tattoo to deflect the sun and lots of spray-on suntan lotion and Dave Matthews Band Oh My God We're Fucking Late For Dave He started At Five And We Thought It Was Supposed To Start At Five Thirty. Plowed our way into a respectable standing position, enjoyed Dave thoroughly, left the Fest, caught a BUS that took decidedly less time than it did for the cab (about 2 hours less, by my count), struggled to stay awake as the Grey Goose wore off, hopped off at the HIE, went down to Jackson Square for the Vampire Tour, enjoyed ourselves thoroughly with stories of murder and vampirism in New Orleans lore, went back to the HIE, lounged around, forced ourselves to go out one last time, had a shitty Hurricane (not fresh fruited like the other one, see how we go full circle? Like going full retard only not that different), sat down at the Piano Bar and listened to a lady belt out some classics while some old man jived around, banging a metal pizza pan with some salt shakers taped to his fingers (I could totally BE that guy!), left at closing time (2 for a Sunday, not bad though considering there were bars open passed 4am the night before), went back to the HIE and went to bed.

Monday, up in the morning, packed up our shit, lugged it the 50 miles back to the parking garage, got some Krystal burgers (like White Castles, only with mustard instead of catsup; like White Castles, only not QUITE as good, in other words), and hit the road, jack. 5 hour drive to Houston. Stopped at a little diner by the airport. Started torrential downpouring. Airport by 6:00 (I think), flight was still scheduled as On Time. Checked in, went to my gate, flight was delayed 40 minutes. I had a connection in Denver with only a 50 minute layover; this did not bode well. Three songs into the new Dandy Warhols album, I heard an announcement: flights with connections to Denver cancelled. Change your flight back at the front desk. Went back, called Kon (who made it all the way back to his apartment), got rescheduled for 6am the next day, got picked back up, went back to the Midtown Area (I think), got some pizza and a beer, went back to Kon's apartment, took a nap on the floor for a few hours.

Up at 4:20am Tuesday morning, on my flight, to Denver, to Seattle. On the bus, to Beacon Hill. Back to my apartment by 11:00am or so. Called out for work (originally planned to work this day), got some food, took 'er easy, did laundry. Flag Football game that night, first victory, didn't get home until 11pm, no sleep for the weary.

Wednesday, April 29th, Championship Bowling! The top 4 teams were playing, total pins + handicap over the course of three games would determine it. We had it in the bag until this old man on the other team started rolling strike after strike after strike. As it stood, I had the series of the night, but it wasn't enough and we lost by 15 or so pins. Got home late, still no sleep for the weary.

Thursday, did nothing, slept early.

Friday, May 1st, Devin's birthday. Dinner at Claim Jumper in Alderwood (mine and Devin's food was comped because it was hella late), Wolverine movie, then a long drive back home. Tacoma on Saturday, Jake's birthday (actually on the 1st). Music, late night bowling, lots of beer. Back up to Seattle on Sunday. Then nothing and nothing and Wednesday night bowling. Last night of the season, awards night, won myself Most Improved Average, as well as patches for a 180 game, a 75 pins over average game, and a pin for a 500 pin series. Then we did bowling for money and I won a bunch of quarters and dominated at the 9-pin no-tap (scores of 256, 224, and 250 respectively). Drove home in rain, went to bed. And here I am.

Alive. That's that.

OK, I lied, I did a LITTLE proofreading ...