I find me another year older today, just an old sea dog countin' up me booty. It 'twas the birthday of my life, shipwrecked down in New Orleans. I woke up not knowing there was a Pirate's Parade going on that same day (as part of NOLA Pyrate Week), but it 'twas quite fitting a way for a scallywag such as I to spend the second half of his day, before the third half came and i ended up in a hot tub staring up at the stars wondering how the fuck i am so lucky to have this life.
The first half of the day began quite nicely. I slept in till ten than had a birthday breakfast consisting of fresh strawberries with a raw coconut/cacao/banana/agave sauce, and a cup of irish breakfast tea. Next I was off to my Jivamukti yoga class at Swan River with one of my favorite teachers, Keith Porteous. From there I rode my bike further uptown in the glorious sunshine to my friend Kathleen Currie's massage studio, for an incredible hour of blissful bodywork.
I made it home an hour before the parade was starting to to piece together a costume, and thanks to my landlord Tucker I got enough bits of scraps to come up with a decent attempt at going on the account. Next I put two cubes of sugar in my coffee and set out for to pillage and allow no quarter in the French Quarter. We set sail from the Arrrrr Bar on Royal, down past Jackson Square and then past the shark bait on Bourbon St, careening about the town and somehow back to the Aaaaaarrr Bar.
I think I warmed my way into the inner circle of me mateys that night. This saucy lassy Miss Lucey pinned some booty onto me shirt (a New Orleans birthday tradition). We both agreed that the carriage horse industry is for shit, and should be abolished forever. A pirate girl after me own heart!
Another Saucy wench decided I was the one to take a group photo of all the pirates once we got back to the Aaaarrrrr Bar, and that is the legend of how I became the official Pirate Parade photographer, of sorts...
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