Christian Owen's Stolen Luggage

As many of you may know, since I've been saying it over and over again for the past few days... well, even weeks, to some of y'all... Christian Owen was scheduled to arrive in New Orleans Thursday, which was technically yesterday, but still less than twelve hours ago. If it were me making the flight between Los Angeles Airport (LAX, or as I like to call it: the Gateway to Purgatory's Waiting Room) to the New Orleans airport (MSY), I would have gone straight to bed for the next day and a half.

Strangely enough, Christian is just one of those people who not only looks good after a five hour flight cause his hair is nothing but super short fuzz (my hair is flattened in the back and standing up in large arches on top of my head... I hate airplane head), but always has the energy to ignore his lazy side. How does he have such great stamina? Well, I guessed that he'd probably be at the bar go-go dancing away his night at the bar. I hadn't done anything all day since I don't have classes at my university on Thursdays, and I still didn't want to get off my lounger to go get dressed and all that jazz, but I did because I did want to see Christian. Well, after randomly showing up at the Bourbon Pub & Parade - the bar/dance club in the French Quarter of New Orleans where Christian Owen, Adam Killian, and Casey were booked to dance - I finally just ran into Christian and Casey right as they were getting back onto the downstairs bar for another shift of go-go dancing. I swear, he's the most mentally balanced workaholic I know.

So, since they were on the bar, I tipped them both. I would have tipped Adam, but he isn't actually scheduled to arrive until Saturday afternoon which is a little over under 25 hours from this second... while I write this... um, yeah. Anyway, it was my duty to tip Christian and Casey... you know... because they're my friends. Very rarely will I tip a dancer who isn't a friend. Okay, I admit it; I can occasionally be a little shallow... okay, maybe a lot shallow, but you wouldn't really know that unless you rifled through my medicine cabinet in my bathroom... well, unless I did something stupid like tell you... like I just did... wait...

Anyway, I acted as Christian and Casey's alarm clock, telling them when it was time to get off the bar and go eat like we planned. Well, on the way to the diner ( a block down from the bar on Bourbon St.), Christian and Casey told me that the airline had lost their luggage. After an hour of eating, joking around, and bitching about retarded airlines, Casey paid for our meal (See?! They deserve the tips! Well, my food was already free because my friend's the waiter. But Christian and Casey "worked hard for the money, yeah, hard for the money." Besides, they had to spend a butt load of money buying new clothes to go-go dance in just for the day. Christian didn't have his signature Swarovski crystal decked out home-crafted outfits or his messy upscale skater. Casey ended up wearing novelty sox as a last resort. Just imagine: an extremely tall 6 ft. 3 in. tall man who could be an Abercrombie & Fitch model with a 30-32 in.waist and eight pack abs wearing wearing a pair of sox with the word "Queen" on it.

This was the outfit Christian was wearing while go-go dancing the last time he was brought in as the title dancer for one of Chi Chi LaRue's weekly Dirty Deeds party at FUBAR in Los Angeles. The soccer ball design was constructed using $300 of black and white Swarovski crystals.