Harbinger Harry

Harry hears that there will be some boys struttin’ their stuff in high heels and it ain’t even Decadence Fest yet. Harry’s got into the spirit of things and has decided he will try and walk a mile in the shoes of the girls he sees through his telescopic lens at the Boot on Tuesday nights. And he ain’t gonna stop at the high heels. Harry will also be sportin’ some ass-hanging-out cutoffs, a belly full of Jaeger and some serious daddy issues. A little Colombian bam bam couldn’t hurt either.
Harry would also like to commend his Sammy brethren, who have just narrowly escaped exile. Raise your Solo cups, kids, you’ve lived to fight another day/ scare the shit out of next year’s class of pre-pubescent “bro-dom” fanatics.
Finally, it’s that time of year again, when the boils start percolatin’ all around Tulane — no, Pike ain’t back, but it is almost time for Crawfest. Like every other year, Harry will be well on the highway to hammered by the time he pinches his first tail (crawfish or otherwise) and sucks his first head, Great White Shark be damned. And, as he always does, Harry will be on the lookout for that special lady who likes it when her mouth burns the morning after.
Harbinger Harry lives on Butler Nine and will be using his zipline this weekend to deliver cold brews straight to the masses of Crawfest. He can be reached for comment at harbingerharry@gmail.com.