The 5 Things Miles Learned in New Orleans

Don’t Tear Things Down

Thinking of bulldozing that 100 year old church to put up a new parking garage?  Think again bitch.  Do you think I’m gonna visit your city if everything looks like a strip mall?  Hell no.  I expect to go clothes shopping in a Victorian mansion, pick up some groceries in a castle, and have dinner with my man in an 18th century children’s playhouse.  Get that wrecking ball away from my food.

Mobilize Trannies to Direct Traffic

 A fact of life you can always rely on: trannies do it better.  He-she’s and shims make better mothers, landlords, and money launderers, and most of all better traffic directors.  Not sure which way to go?  Traffic Tranny will grab your penis and help you across the street.  Questioning your sexuality in the middle of an intersection?  Traffic Tranny will answer that question: you’re gay. 

Put as Many Bars as Close Together as Possible

 When I get my drinky on, I don’t want to be trekking over half the city to have a good time.  I want 12 bars within spitting distance that are all hip in contrasting but complimentary ways.  I want the music from one bar to merge with the music of another to create a new genre of music called I’m drunk.  I want to witness a critical mass of cutoff short shorts and Forever 21 jewelry, all to the sweet smell of vomit and cigarettes. 

Fancier Parks Please

The New Orleans criteria for parks seems to be that if you can’t take a wedding photo in it, it’s not a park.  I mean, where do other cities get off calling a patch of grass with a tree or two a park?  I don’t see a statue or a fountain in that park.  And just where is the red brick sidewalk?  There’s not even any latticed iron work around that playground.  How crude.

Let People Drink Outside

 What is the harm in letting people take their beers outside of the bar?  If we want to be an upwardly mobile society then our drinks need to come with us.  What if I need to “take it outside” with some bitch who called me a bitch, but I also  want to finish my cosmo-tini?  Don’t make me spill blood on this dance floor, Minneapolis.


The 5 Reality Shows Miles Would Die to Be On

Made

Made would finally allow me to achieve my life long dream of competing as a synchronized diver.  MTV would hook me up with a hot Made coach, a hotter diving partner, and ship me off to Speedo land to learn the art of falling in the same way and at the same time as somebody else.  Two months and several electrolysis sessions later, I would be standing on the platform at the 2012 Olympic Games ready to get my dive on.  Of course, my partner would sabotage the dive because MTV told him that I said that his sister smells like a drag queen, when what I really said was that his sister smells like cat pee.

12 Corazones

Doce Corazones is my favorite zodiac themed Spanish language dating show, and I watched enough of it in college to consider myself an expert.  What you need to do to win is strip as early as possible, make sure that your body is devoid of hair and that any hair that you do have is fake.  I know that the stripper poll that descends from the ceiling looks unstable, but you’re gonna need to go upside down on that thing with you’re legs spread to make it past round 2.  Go skank or go home.

X-Factor

At times I don’t know if Simon Cowell’s X-Factor will save or destroy pop music.  All I know is that I want to be a part of this shit show wherever it leads us.  I will compete as one part of a mixed race mixed gender singing/rap duo named Jean Jacket.  We will do covers of Kim Wilde and Pointer Sisters songs with robot-drag queen back up dancers.  Fireworks will accompany our every dance move.  At the final we will perform with Janet Jackson, if only so that our true fans can wear “Jean Jacket & Janet Jackson” emblazoned jean jackets.  Voting starts now.

Who Do You Think You Are?

 

Who do I think I am?  I think I have Greek, Danish, and German ancestry and I want to go on a vacation for free!  I want an all expense paid trip to Europe where I can fondle priceless artifacts that may or may not have anything to do with my ancestors.  I want to discover that my great great great great great grandfather was some king’s bastard and I am an heir to an apple orchard.  Most importantly, I want my uncovered past to be fictionalized as a new PBS drama that then has a crossover episode with Downtown Abbey.  I don’t feel like I’m asking for a lot here.

What Not To Wear

Having watched all 240 episodes of What Not To Wear, I realize that going on the show is a risk.  Left to their own devices, Stacy and Clinton will try to make you look as boring as possible.  To avoid looking like a 24-year-old Republican presidential candidate, it’s all about the first day of shopping.  Those bitches don’t follow you around on day one, so that’s when you gotta get your freak on.  I would spend the first thousand dollars on a high-waisted, low crotch harem jumpsuit, the second on a backless tuxedo, and the third on some sick shoes for the prosthetic legs I plan on getting.  By day two I plan on being out of money and having the What Not To Wear producer’s loan me some if only so they can continue filming.