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13 Temmuz 2022, 10:45
My friends had suggested I needed a vacation. It had been nearly two years since my jerkface shitwad ex-husband had walked out on me and the kids. I had worn myself ragged trying to keep up with all the schedules, homework and extra-curriculars, then trying to keep up with my own job - forget trying to have a life of my own.
Dickface had picked up the kids - with his "perky" girlfriend in tow - for the summer and I had some time to myself. Narda and Margo had practically phoned the airline themselves and booked my flight to New Orleans. I had thought we were all going together until the night before the trip when as I was packing I found out they had tricked me. I was going solo. It would cost me more than I paid for the ticket to cancel it now, those bitches!
"You need it, you deserve it. You love great food and great jazz, what better place than the Big Easy. Go have a great time, forget us, forget the kids, forget asshole and his slut girlfriend. Go have a great time in the city care forgot!" What was a girl to do...
It was early June, before the tourist season started, but not before the heat. They never mention that about NOLA in the tourist brochures - its fucking 99 during the day with 110% humidity. What's the point in taking a shower, you're sweating as soon as you walk outside. But, the city is beautiful and after a couple of belts on Bourbon St. you do begin to forget all your cares. I had made the round of touristy sights - the French Quarter, the Garden District, the new D-Day Museum. I rode the street car up and down St. Charles admiring the beautiful old homes. I rented a car and drove out the river road and visited the plantations on the Mississippi. Not to mention, I ate fabulous food - The Pelican Club, Delmonico's, Dick and Jenny's and the fabulous Adolfo's. And then of course there was jazz. This is New Orleans jazz, the original, the best. On every street corner you hear musicians, combos, good enough to rival any club you might go to in Manhattan. Music is everywhere, all around you. If you stay in New Orleans long enough it gets into your blood. That creole rhythm, a blend of African, Caribbean, Spanish, French and who knows what else that carries you away, oozes into your pores and clouds your mind like the best weed you've ever smoked. I was in heaven. No kids, no husband or even ex to think about. No worries, no cares in the city care forgot.... hmmm a recipe for debauchery if ever I heard one!
It was my last weekend and I was off to try something new. The owners of the B
Dickface had picked up the kids - with his "perky" girlfriend in tow - for the summer and I had some time to myself. Narda and Margo had practically phoned the airline themselves and booked my flight to New Orleans. I had thought we were all going together until the night before the trip when as I was packing I found out they had tricked me. I was going solo. It would cost me more than I paid for the ticket to cancel it now, those bitches!
"You need it, you deserve it. You love great food and great jazz, what better place than the Big Easy. Go have a great time, forget us, forget the kids, forget asshole and his slut girlfriend. Go have a great time in the city care forgot!" What was a girl to do...
It was early June, before the tourist season started, but not before the heat. They never mention that about NOLA in the tourist brochures - its fucking 99 during the day with 110% humidity. What's the point in taking a shower, you're sweating as soon as you walk outside. But, the city is beautiful and after a couple of belts on Bourbon St. you do begin to forget all your cares. I had made the round of touristy sights - the French Quarter, the Garden District, the new D-Day Museum. I rode the street car up and down St. Charles admiring the beautiful old homes. I rented a car and drove out the river road and visited the plantations on the Mississippi. Not to mention, I ate fabulous food - The Pelican Club, Delmonico's, Dick and Jenny's and the fabulous Adolfo's. And then of course there was jazz. This is New Orleans jazz, the original, the best. On every street corner you hear musicians, combos, good enough to rival any club you might go to in Manhattan. Music is everywhere, all around you. If you stay in New Orleans long enough it gets into your blood. That creole rhythm, a blend of African, Caribbean, Spanish, French and who knows what else that carries you away, oozes into your pores and clouds your mind like the best weed you've ever smoked. I was in heaven. No kids, no husband or even ex to think about. No worries, no cares in the city care forgot.... hmmm a recipe for debauchery if ever I heard one!
It was my last weekend and I was off to try something new. The owners of the B