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While the Coyote Ugly gimmick is a novel idea, I found it less than entertaining. I liked the dancing on the bar bit, and I liked their having nice big breasts gimmick, but the whole abusive schtick was just annoying. Upon my entering one of the waitress/stripper/bitches yelled: "Lose the fucking tie, prettyboy!" I assume we're supposed to be impressed with the power that their sexual energy has over us. Some guy asked for water and they did the whole "We don't serve fucking water here" bit that I heard was in the movie. I can only assume that this guy was either a shill or just thought it would be cool to act out a scene from the movie. One of my friends made a comment about the waitress's singing voice and she promptly threw a cup full of ice at him. Later they turned the music down and told some dart playing patrons "Buy some fucking drinks, this isn't a free show!" In addition to the ubiquitous body shot, the girls at the Ugly had another special offering whose name I did not glean. I would call it the "repulsive shot". The girl takes a shot of booze and then stands on the bar, leans over, and literally spits the shot into your mouth. I would not do this with my girlfriend, much less some abusive bar skank. The bathrooms, however, are quite nice. They are 100% stainless steel, and it appears that they hose them down nightly. This results in a relatively bacteria free latrine experience. All in all I don't think this place is worth the overpriced drinks. In Club Utopia the girls are twice as naked and 1/10 as abusive. But if being abused by quasi-strippers is your bag then this is definitely the place for you. Permalink to this post. |
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Have you ever wondered how many times I've been caught taking photographs in the bathroom? Think about it, bathrooms are generally well trodden areas - particularly in bars. Let's just say that more than a few people think I'm a perv. It's a wonder that I have neither been punched nor propositioned in my photographic adventures. And I do it all for you, dear reader. I do it for that feeling of acceptance I crave so dearly. The craving for acceptance that made some children the bug-eating kid on the playground. And this twenty-something bug eating drive brings us now to Checkpoint Charlie's. The place where I was introduced to my two all time favorite New Orleans bands: The Nipples of Isis and Boo Lacrosse. Checkpoints is a place where your social acceptance is inversely proportional to the amount of soap you purchase in a year. It is a place where your clothes and tongue should both have holes lest ye be a poser. It is a place that is, of course, on Decatur. There is also a laundromat in the back with a couple of video games. The daytime clientele that frequent the laundromat are clearly an entirely different group of people from the nighttime denizens, as I'm sure those people generally just throw some stinky oil on their clothes when they get too funky. Another oddity is the bookshelf. They sell books in this bar. How it is possible for these books to remain unstolen in the back of a dark bar (whose patrons are all by law required to carry backpacks) remains one of life's great mysteries. Perhaps it is as simple as these people simply don't read. Sure, they talk about all kinds of stuff they've "read". But hearing someone else on Decatur spout distorted versions of Che Guevara and Marx doesn't count as reading. From this description you may infer that I dislike Checkpoints and its inhabitants. Quite the opposite. As little as I have in common with grungy gutter rats, it is still far more than I have in common with the high fiving white guys of Metry and Uptown. Permalink to this post. |
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The proprietors of the Royal Cafe are apparently unaware that New Orleans is 3 degrees cooler than Satan's groin, for they had the audacity to keep the doors and windows wide open. I'm sorry, guys, but the whole "down home N'awlins" vibe isn't worth the experience of having my face look like it's coated in Crisco. They did, however, have very nice bathrooms, as you can see from the photo. The observant may notice a purple feather on the ground. If you have been to New Orleans in the past year or two you will no doubt recognize this as a feather from one of the many millions of boas worn by tourists on Bourbon Street. Which brings me to something I've noticed... Pretty much everyone knows about Mardi Gras. People watch parades, drink a lot, fight over beads, and women show their Breastages. It is a grand time. This used to extend about two or three weeks before and after Mardi Gras. But it seemed that every year it extended a little longer. The shops stocked up on beads and whatnot earlier every year. Add to this that we have St. Patricks day parades and an Irish/Italian parade. Over the years the cooldown period between these holidays thinned and finally vanished. Suddenly there was just one big Mardi Gras all through these holidays. Then all of a sudden tourists decided that Jazz Fest is Mardi Gras too. That's when the floodgates opened. Now tourists are out there on fucking Hannukah showing their tits and buying purple boas. This picture is proof. Someone was downtown in a purple boa IN JULY New Orleans Native Snobbery aside, it isn't such a bad thing. I really like to people watch, and that sport is always on. You can, quite literally, see breasts for free every day on Bourbon Street. As Anthony Keidis says "Lunatics on pogo sticks, another southern fried freak on the crucifix". Actually, that doesn't really make any sense. Anyway, there's a lot to look at. Permalink to this post. |
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They frequently feature live music, and on this particlar night there was a pretty rocking band playing. I thought they were the Sophisticats, but after some google searching, it turns out that they were opening for the sophisticats, so I have no idea what they were called. They were a three piece consisting of a snare player, a singer/guitarist, and a hottie playing a washtub with a stick and string. Amazingly, she could actually play the thing and it wasn't just for "authentic n'awlins" style. The singer/guitarist rocked so hard that I got depressed and felt like a complete loser. No matter how much I work at it I'll never have a voice that badass. Oh well, at least I'm not fat :) Permalink to this post. |
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New Orleans is well known for good food. The Magnolia Grill in Natchez could step in the ring with the best New Orleans has to offer. And that's a bold statement. Carmen went so far as to say that it was the best food she had tasted in her entire life. We split broccoli and crab meat bisque, a beef filet, gumbo, salad, and a grilled cheese sandwich. For dessert we had some awesome bread pudding. All in all it was a rocking good meal. At 69$ (hehe) it was a bit pricy, but we were tourist-ing, so I didn't mind. This pic, as always, is of the porcelain conveniences. Later that night I went to a Natchez bar called Dimples, but was too afraid to grab a pic in the urinal. There were many cowboy hats, baseball caps and plaid, much dip and country music. Not exactly the best environment for a (now) skinny city slicker to go acting like a faygot snapping pictures in the men's room. One note about Dimples, though. I found it interesting that since it was such a small town and there were not too many bars open at 1AM, people that otherwise wouldn't hang out in a Country bar were forced to. I saw one guy all decked out in Fubu-Wear complete with a backwards red baseball cap. It was a surreal thing to see while twangy Country music was being performed *LIVE*. Permalink to this post. |
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