BOB:
Okay, aside from the post on Day 1, all this other “Bob” portion of the tour journal is a big, stinking pile of time-traveling untruths.  I mean, it’s really Day 12 and I’m sitting in the Mid-Manhattan Public Library, spewing lies all over the internet.  But if you wanna play along, I’ll just try to write the following entries as if I actually did write then when the date and time-stamp suggest.   Game?

11:17 AM, maybe? – BOB:
Um, we woke up or something?  I don’t fucking remember and the fact that you expect me to is really pretty dickish on your part.  We’ve been working and partying our asses off for 12 straight days.  Yeah, I guess I woke up somewhere in Houston and drove all fucking day to New Orleans.  That shit felt like it was three months ago…

Leaving Houston

Okay, new idea.  I’m gonna let Chad’s writing carry the load for this first leg. I know y’all are disappointed, what with my humor and wit giving this blog all its energy and flavor. But I’ve been doing all the driving again, just booked the last two dates (while driving, mind you) and am still, on a daily basis, dealing w/ posters, merch, partying, press, derbies, cinemas, and driving from 4-11 hours.

But here are the pics and vids I too several days ago:

Chomped some pork-n-slaw.

Gambling

Stumbled around New Orleans like a drunken pirate.

In New Orleans

It’s romantic here.

Chad and Sara SlowDance…

Smoke Weed

Pickle in a Pouch

Crashed on a fold-out bed.  Not bad.

And now, take it away Chad:

6:53 PM – CHAD:
Right now, I feel like we might as well turn around and go right the fuck back home. We had our chance… History was right there at our fingertips. This had the potential for one of the greatest trips of all times and it was all going to start with an art exhibit that was going on at Delgado Community College when we pulled up in New Orleans. Granted, Bob and I aren’t exactly patrons of the fine arts, but it just so happened that the first “older woman” that I ever dated (way back when I was 23 years old and she was younger than I am right now as we speak) lives in New Orleans and invited us to an art opening that her sister was in. At said opening, there was an interactive display where this chinaman (I only call him a chinaman because I got the impression that one of the points of his exhibit was to bring out some kind of repressed hatred and subjugation of orientals that lies dormant in all barbarians such as myself but I’m not one to judge, just let me explain what he was doing and you make up your own mind) would sit you down at a table, prepare you a bowl of Chef Boyardee Raviolis while dressed up “Hop Sing” style up to and including bare feet and then when you were finished, he would eat whatever you didn’t and proceed to lick your plate clean. Bob and I were the very next people in line for this when he abruptly packed his shit up and went home. I can’t help but feel like if only Bob and I had gotten there a little bit sooner… If only we had been moving a little faster and without pills, for instance… then we would have gotten this whole ordeal on tape and been propelled into tour journal stardom. Our tragedy was a real life example of the “butterfly effect” that Confucius himself would have been proud of.

Ravioli

Art Show

7:45 PM – CHAD:
Despite the hardships we encountered in the early goings of our trip to The Big Easy, my luck actually took a turn for the better, as evidenced in the following:

11:13 PM – CHAD:
Eventually, we hooked up with “Vogue” (Vouge. Let your body move to the music. Move to the music.) who some of you may remember from her reign of terror back in Austin and she took us down near The French Quarter in the “Snug Harbor” area of town. Well, the harbor got very snug very quickly about 3 minutes after we parked and another old friend from Austin recognized me on the street and gave us free drinks from the bar she worked at all night. I forget the name of the place… Here’s what little I did catch before then:

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