Certain Amount of Curious Joy

Sometimes I feel like I am incapable of introspection - which is why it is such a joy for me to read about myself. Here is a link to a blog written by a homeless (voluntarily) guy who stayed at my place back when I was between jobs and looking to just relax. His prose is a bit stilted and he has a gift for understatement - which is even more apparent if you read his post where he is molested by a gay trucker - but it is well worth your time.

Here is a key passage that pretty much describes what all of my non partying friends from college have experienced.

Matthew picked me up and took me to the Leopard Lounge, which is next door to the Twisted Taco. Both places were your typical meat markets. Matthew seemed to fit right in. I took a certain amount of curious joy from watching him carry on with the young lady's [sic] he had just met. Game is what he called it. He encouraged me to get mine on as well. This sort of bar wasn't my thing.

Well la-di-da, Mr. Man. He goes on to mention that he did get some female attention, especially after I pointed out that he quit his job and left his fiance in Nebraska in order to travel the world. However, I was shocked that he didn't point out that we met a girl who when we asked what she did for a living she said, "I am a child molester. Just kidding... I am a High School teacher."

See, read that again... now send it to all of your friends in education (oh, and trucking). Now, THAT'S how you write a blog baby!

Being Incognegro - Except on Halloween

This fall has been a busy one with work travel and family stuff going on. With the exception of my birthday week, I haven't really gone out all that much. I remember going to an Oktoberfest outdoor concert against my better judgment (it was the night before a fencing tournament), having one beer, and seeing a sea of people who I didn't know and didn't like.

It's not that they were bad people (although you can never be too sure), its just that I haven't felt that magic kinship between like strangers in a while. Maybe its the fact that I don't feel the need to get crazy wasted anymore, or more likely my tolerance is sky high. It's not that I don't enjoy hanging out with friends and hitting on random girls in Hotlanta... But if I can't guarantee that such activities won't be more enjoyable than watching one of the great FX Original Series on the TiVo - then I'm staying home.

Nevertheless, Halloween is upon us... It is my favorite holiday, and I plan to be out and about that Friday night. Plus my boy X is coming to town, and that is guaranteed to make things crazy...

You Know What, I Think I Will Just Be A Jerk

One of my friends pointed out last fall that I was a complete jerk, especially to women. Just to see what would happen, I decided to not be a dick on a first date. I opened doors, I paid for stuff, I was generally nice and sweet, and I noticed and pointed out how pretty my date was that night. We went to nice restaurants in nice neighborhoods, and I was a complete gentleman.

Four first dates, four dead ends.

I think I will go back to being a jackass. Bees like honey, women like vinegar.

Stoli Hotel in Atlanta - Leave the Vodka, Keep the Party

Having been to events sponsored by Guinness, Chivas, Glenlivet, and Johnny Walker I have a pretty good idea of what to expect at these things. At the above events, you are going to have good food and a cozy group of people - but it will largely be a sausage fest. Try as I might, I have found few girls who absolutely love irish stouts and scotch whisky.

Vodka is a different story. Vodka is for people who want to drink water and get drunk at the same time. In other words, vodka is for women. And given that Stoli threw a party in Atlanta to celebrate its new Vitamin Water flavored vodka - I knew that there would be a ton of women in attendence. I was right.

The party started off right as I strolled into the Mason Murer building and saw an artist painting a hot naked chick near the wall. As the place filled up and the drink lines got longer, I wandered around and saw a lot of old friends. As the night got longer and drinks kept flowing - I made some new ones.

Like I said, vodka is a crowd pleaser - and everyone I came with disappeared into the fog of people except for my friend from work who didn't know anyone. So what started as a group of guys hanging out and talking degenerated into getting a drink, and then getting back in the drink line figuring you would be empty by the time we reached the bartender. We met a lot of folks that way, including a cute girl who said precisely 15 words before asking for my number. Gotta love efficiency.

Free At Last, Stay Away From White Girls

After a four year long nightmare that ruined a good kid's chances at a great life, the Georgia Supreme Court decided that Genarlow Wilson had enough and freed him today. The original crime - letting a girl blow him who turned out to be 15 and just happened to be on camera. Because for some reason, in 1995 the Georgia legislature decided that oral sex was the work of the devil and should be a felony even between kids of the same age (unlike sexual intercourse). Hmm, I wonder who inspired that law...

Worse, the august Georgia Legislature changed the law to make such acts only a misdeamenor, largely in response to the bruhaha over Wilson. Yet, for some reason they did not make the law retroactive even though they had the option to do so. Thanks to an over aggressive Attorney General, this kept Wilson in prison and the State Supreme Court upheld his conviction and sentence of 10 YEARS.

Finally, a Monroe County judge agreed that all this was bullshit - and that 12 months was long enought to stay in prison for getting head. The Attorney General stepped in again and appealed to the Supreme Court - who agreed that the sentence was completely ridiculous.

I know this is the Bible Belt, and I know more about the Bible Belt than anyone - but you don't see kids from Alpharetta High facing hard time for getting their dick wet. If she wasn't white, if it wasn't on videotape, it wouldn't be an issue. And that's the saddest thing of all. At least Wilson is free.

Sober Minded About Booze and Boobs

Last night I was giving one of my good friends the run down on the Chivas Studio Playboy event. He couldn't make it because his newborn was on her way to a wedding the next day, and understandably he wanted to spend time with her. His thoughts were simply, "something is up when you need Playboy to get a draw to a free booze event." He had a point.

While I enjoy scotch generally, and I am a fan of Chivas - I was a bit disappointed in the event simply because I expected so much. The Playboy Chivas event is like Fergie's body - the description sounds way better than reality.


Long hair, big boobs, nice lips - isn't she supposed to be hot?


The problem was that while Chivas wants to brand their blended scotch as exclusive - the idea of a lounge where those who bother to RSVP get to wait in line for an hour for the opportunity to taste every horrible scotch cocktail dreamed up is ridiculous. Usually these events are first come, first serve - and are so unpublicized that only true believers (read: drunks) tend to find out about them. You eat, you drink, you get merry, you go home. Even though I was nowhere near the first person there, some how I am at the front of the 100-strong RSVP line while legions of Playboy and "Playboy" associates (none hot women, I might add) get shuttled inside. Only my very very scant relationship to Pernod Ricard USA was enough to get me past the past-her-prime name checker after the bouncer felt sorry for me and let me in.

Once inside, I had a Chivas side car, which was awesome. I tried some other forgettable drinks (only the first sip of the Chivas green tea tasted good), and then switched to scotch on the rocks. Unfortunately, I was fighting a nasty cold which makes drinking scotch less enjoyable. Unlike other whiskies like Irish, bourbon, or Canadian - scotch has a strong and distinctive nose, and if your nose is too stuffed up to smell a quality scotch's nose, you may as well be drinking OJC from Schnuck's.

Since you have to doctor the drink until it tastes like Kool-Aid for them to drink it, there were hardly any single women at this event. Even the one I invaded a group to talk to was married, although she was charming. Funnily enough, one of her friends I passed on seemed to get a lot of attention from random guys asking for pictures. I was too busy working my magic, being funny, and not acting as drunk as I was to notice until guy number seven comes over. Turns out the girl I wasn't interest in happened to be a Playboy centerfold. Awesome.

Oh, and I met some Playboy bunnies, so there's that. They said I was the smartest guy there because I actually set down my full drink before posing with them.

Thoughts From The Midwest

I spent all last week, with the exception of Weds night/Thurs evening, in the Midwest. The first part of the week was spent in Chicago for work, and the last part of the week I was in St. Louis for fraternity stuff - which felt like work. All in all I had a great time, but a lot of strange things happened along the way.

Chicago

• I never knew how small a world Chicago could be. I am definitely going to start hanging at hotel bars in Atlanta.
• The coolest thing I had for lunch in months was the pizza pot pie at Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company. It is very tasty and absolutely horrible for you.
• God bless Sales. It is the only profession where making out with a hot blonde in front of your co-workers is a good business move.
• Assertiveness with a smile can get you anywhere in work and in life. Who knew?
• If you make a bartender smile with your drink choice (a Manhattan in my case), he will make it very strong.
• W. Division St. must be kicking 7 days a week. Awesome.
• Girls love the business casual look (complete with sports coat).
• Three burgers and three rounds of drinks in ATL - $60-$70. The same at a hotel bar in this town? $150.
• Who knew that three days of boozing would murder your immune system?

And then there was St. Louis....

• Angry Jewish man accompanied by family yelling at the car rental shuttle because there is no room = WU Parents' Weekend. I actually pointed that out to him, smiling of course.
• The Residence Inn has a great penthouse option - but it is not worth $200 a night. Two bathrooms, a kitchen, and three beds was a nice setup though.
• Nati and I watched the baseball playoffs Thursday night at Krueger's on Clayton Rd. We still have no clue with whom the group of 30 hot young coeds dressed in seventies retro were affliated.
• Laclede's by SLU serves beer in the biggest disposable cups I have ever seen.
• You haven't lived until you watch college-age drunk white girls shout "Supersoak that ho!"
• After hanging out with a friend from high school I thought to myself, are my high school memories just old or repressed?
• I am pretty much going to assume anyone who self-identifies herself as polyamorous (as opposed to just a swinger) is self-absorbed and completely insane. In other words, I would only be interested if she was wasted.
• First sign I am truly getting older: I can't summon mojo in a club when I am coughing and hacking like a sick dog in Virginia.

Celebrating My Non-Birthday

Miss Daisy got me a copy of Patton Oswald's latest CD. Oswald is funny in small doses, and one of his less funny jokes was that after age 21, only ages in multiples of 10 matter until you hit 91. In any case, I decided to do something for my 28th. Last year, I spent my 27th with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and a snifter of haterade as a chaser. No sense in doing that again.

This year was going to be easy going - a nice happy hour around the corner from my house. Unfortunately, a huge storm insured only the most dedicated friends would show up - and even I managed to get drunk as soon as I got home from work and was 20 minutes late. Yes, I was 20 minutes late to my own birthday happy hour that I planned. Yes, I am a complete jackass. About 15 people or so popped in and out, mostly Wash U folks and my regular drinking buddies.

After things died down, a few of us hit the clubs in Midtown. There I managed to hit on/grope a beautiful girl giving out free rubber bracelets for FOX's new cop drama, "K-Ville." Something about her dark caramel skin and awesome long hair made her irrestible. Unfortunately, I was pretty sloppy - and I am sure the over/under on her deleting my number from her cell is about six minutes.

SEXY UPDATE: I really don't give myself enough credit. She didn't delete the number, she called, she likey, and she wants to go out. In fact, I was one of the few people she actually gave a bracelet - she sucks at promotions. Plus, I was as sloppy as I remember. Who knew?

Here are some quotes really made this evening memorable.

Me: "She always wants to be the center of attention."
Dennis: "That's easy... just rail her in the middle of the bed!"

LW: "Yes she's hot. But I am not going after a woman the same age as my mother."
Me: "Whoa, I know your mom. Now I can't go after her either!"

Dennis: "So how was Midtown?"
Me: "It was typical, gave this gorgeous black girl my number..."
Dennis: "Whoa, you hit on a black girl? That's news!"

Me: "I like her, I'd love to date her, I just never think about calling her until I am half-wasted."
Miss Daisy: "You truly are a jackass."

Waitress: "You guys are new, but I had this guy before."
Me: grins ear to ear
Dennis: "You just made his entire weekend!"

Genie In A Bottle

How much do I have to drink before she comes out?

Until one of my buddies offered me a ticket to the Falcons preseason game, I was considering crawling inside a bottle for the whole weekend. It's been a hot and rough summer - and nothing cures summer blues like being blitzed in the Hotlanta heat. If I had more of an addictive personality and enough time in a given week, I could be a full fledged alcoholic. Ah, to dream...

In any case - my friends and I ended up heading to Atlanta Brewing Company before the game, drank at the Georgia Dome, then at a friend's suite at Dragon*Con, and finally ended up at Twisted Taco where I ran into a friend and her cute and adorable girlfriend... and their respective boyfriends. I always liked CAAGirl, and I think my hands may have expressed my affection more than I intentioned. Thankfully, the boyfriend didn't notice or didn't mind. Who is to say these days.

Twisted Taco is interesting like that. I have met a huge number of girls there, and made out with not a few of them... and a good amount of them were attached in some way. Hell, I remember one Labor Day weekend I was there with a big group of folks and this hot blonde in her thirties with cute fake boobs comes up to me, pulls me close, shoves her tongue down my throat - and then stops, saying, "I shouldn't do this, my boyfriend is right behind you." I turn around, and there he is. One look at him told me my nose was going to be just fine. In that case, I pull her back and start kissing her again, passionately, until the boyfriend eventually protests weakly. Of course, the ensuing discussion amongst my friend is the over/under on how many minutes it will take me to go after her again (7, by the way). I didn't get her home with me, but man did I try.

Over the last few years, I've noticed a lot of women who act the same way. I could understand if they are pornstars or swingers or someone who would never promise monogamy or fidelity - but for the rest, playing this game of physical baseball in the bar/club scene is just ridiculous. Especially since someone with enough game can easily get the girl to commit an error and earn an in-field home run and cheat for real. It's been awhile, but I have made that hit plenty of times in the past. Of course, back then I travelled a lot more and had more opportunities; plus I was less willing to listen to words from a girl's mouth, opening me to reading how she acted.

Now, I feel this odd urge to "settle down," and find a "nice" girl. Instead, I find that many of the guys who have settled are dealing with way more bullshit than I could ever stand. If that doesn't make you want to drink, nothing will.

Boozing With Deadspin

Sports for millenia has brought diverse people together in fellowship. This fact was especially true at last Friday's Deadspin Pants Party at Turner Field. There is nothing like baseball, beer, and barbeque to start the weekend right. It was also kinda cool to meet the man who introduced me to "Herpes #7".

Like every young professional I know in Atlanta, as well as many of the local PP attendees, I rarely actually put out my hard-earned money to see the Braves at home. Whether it was due to access to my company's tickets, or a connection to someone with corporate seats or boxes; the typical expenses for Braves games was gas and beer. So shelling out $60 for a previously free good was daunting - that is until you considered the all you can drink and eat special. The Atlanta Braves organization really came up with a winner with this idea... No less than half the locals I spoke to claimed that they typically don't pay for seats, but made an exception for unlimited booze.

Since this was my first time paying to be on the Lexus level, and my first time at an internet organized sport blogger/commenter event, I decided to take some pictures.






Even though Atlanta is the home of Lil' Jon, flash, and crunk, it was still surprisingly hilarious to find that the entrance to the box seats and all you can drink was on the Lexus level.






I was the guinea pig for my friends for this special; they assumed the free food might be crap. Far from it, the barbeque pork and wings were very tasty, and were kept that way by a couple of awesome ladies.





Meeting Will Leitch for the first time was pretty cool, especially since he was the only face I recognized besides UkraineNotWeak who sold me my ticket. For a snarky and hilarious sports writer, he exudes a refreshing Midwestern charm.

Along with Will, everyone was quite friendly and interesting - from the man behind Every Day Should Be Saturday with his flaming couch shirt, to the lovely lady known as DieEliDie - who still felt the need to explain the reference given that most who frequent the sports blogosphere (like everyone at this party) know both the lesser Manning and every major Simpsons meme by heart.




Speaking of lovely ladies - as the night wore on, I happy noted that for a gathering of sports blog writers and commentors - the male/female ratio wasn't bad. I wasn't counting on that, but its a nice detail to mention when my non Deadspin-saavy friends ask what I did Friday night. I can't wait for the next one.

The only unfortunate thing was that the booze and barbeque free for all ends during the seventh inning. Which is normally ok, except when D-Backs pitcher Brandon Webb is marching towards breaking Orel Hershiser's 59 straight scoreless inning record. Thanks Webb, I could only get down seven beers, two pork sandwiches, and a hot dog before the end of the gravy train thanks to you. Jerk.

What A Difference A Year Makes

While walking around the office today, shaking off the last bit of hangover miasma, I noticed on the big flatscreen in the lobby that it is now my one year anniversary at my new company. Wow. A lot has happened since then, and bears the need for some reflection.

• I am 25 pounds lighter now than I was when I left my old job, and I gained a fair bit of muscle in the meantime. And my high blood pressure disappeared. I also get up easier in the morning. Maybe it was good I got out of there.
• Travel has always been important to me, but I find it is less necessary when I am comfortable at home with friends.
• While short-sighted, I still stand by my decision to make a play for the hot blonde from my old office when I was out on a date with an cute unemployed brunette from Wake Forest. If you want to dip your pen in the company ink, there is no better time than right before you leave the company.
• Going out and partying while I was unemployed seemed reckless at the time, but ultimately it was a good idea. It got me out of the house, kept my spirits up, and an upbeat spirit ultimately got me a new job.
• Fencing is great for the mind, body, and soul. Period. Thank God I was able to get into this sport - I don't want to think about where I would be without it.
• I really have some great friends. The collection of wisdom and levity I have access to allows me to get into the maximum amount of trouble possible without ending up dead or in jail.

That's pretty much it. Here's to another great year.

I'm With Ookie

I love dogs. Really, I do. And if Michael Vick turns out to be the Don King of dogfighting, he should be punished. At the very least, this whole episode should encourage every professional athlete to hire one guy to say, "you know what, let's just make it a Blockbuster night" whenever bad ideas are put out in the open. (I'm free!) At this point, however, universal condemnation is not in order.

Just today, former prosecutor Michael Nifong admitted in open court that he had no hard evidence against the Duke lacrosse players before he ripped their lives to shreds. No qualifications, just a pure admission of guilt. Were it not for bloggers like William Anderson over at Lewrockwell.com and the large purses of the player's families - they would be on trial right now, and still universally condemned in the court of public opinion. Let's not forget Kobe Bryant, while not the picture of perfect husbandry, he has no reason to force himself on easy white girls either. He also faced universal condemnation until the facts began to show us the way from the darkness of innuendo to the light of truth.

Michael Vick is no Pacman Jones. Pacman is suspended for a full season because for whatever reason, the man is constantly arrested, is always on a police blotter, and because of his actions another man may never walk again. Michael Vick has never been arrested, and while he has made some bad decisions off the field as of late - he has not, even now, helped to bring down the overall image of the Atlanta Falcons or the National Football League. He is no saint, but he is no super sinner either.

The worst is that any attempt to salvage his good name by his fellow players and other writers is immediately shouted down. Peter King's abuse of the great athlete and well liked Emmitt Smith was uncalled for, and the fact that he cited former Klansman and top KKK recruiter Sen. Robert Byrd in his attack was violently offensive.

I love dogs. But ruining the career of a living man for the sake of dogs long dead before a conviction is morally wrong.

VIII Fifty - It's Cougar-rific!

Jezebel magazine has never steered me wrong. While subscribing to it made me feel a little too fresh in the morning, being on the mag's event list has been pure gold. This is especially true when it comes to open bars. Earlier this week I got an email from Jezebel, aka "the booze fairy," telling me about a new restaurant/bar called 850. Sure, I thought the Roman numberals mixed with the word "fifty" was pretenious - and the fact that 850 or VIII fifty refers to its street address was quite stupid. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice that the styling of the logo and the description of the venue was similar to the ultracool Louis XIII restaurant in suburban Minneapolis. That, and the free bar, persuaded me to check out this place in the northern Atlanta suburb of Roswell.

At first glance, the restaurant was pretty understated... except for the two Lamborghini Diablos(?) parked in front. And the photo screen. I was wearing a green Old Navy polo and dark grey Bill Blass slacks that were two inches too big in the waist - I wasn't interested in taking pictures.

Inside, the restaurant opened up nicely. Each of the three indoor dining areas are hidden away, and the raised bar immediately gets your attention. Outside there is a large center dining area with draped booths/couches all around the perimeter of the deck. You almost forget you are in suburbia until you see the Home Depot and the Goodyear in the adjacent blocks.

The drink service was remarkable given the couple hundred people clammering for free drinks. The food was mostly seafood, but the steak I sampled was superb. The Bacardi girls they hired for the event were hot and cordial, even though I got the feeling they were not interested in staying around after they got paid. Perhaps the reason for that was the clientele.

Wow. Personally, I always preferred the term MILF for describing attractive older women, but last night it seemed that only the more recent term "cougar" was apropos. If your idea of a crazy blonde threesome is Bo Derek, Sharon Stone, and Bea Arthur - VIII Fifty is the place for you. I pride myself on making friends and feeling comfortable in the most exclusive parties, but this place made me feel like a) I was sneaking in and b) I needed to be in bed. I was with a friend of mine and she even suggested I need to talk to one of these women to see if I can trade favours for one of the Lamborghinis sitting outside. If it wasn't for the fact that the place emptied out after the open bar period was over, I might have given that idea a shot.

VIII Fifty is a very cool place, with great food, and a good location if you are already living north of I-285. If you are a single guy, and you prefer girls who weren't alive during Nixon's administration, go ahead and make the drive into the city.

B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E, Aggressive, B-E Aggressive!

When Miss Daisy was in town, we checked out one of my standby clubs, CosmoLava. Beside the fact that the place is ten times seedier than when we visited two years ago and no girls were offering MD free drinks, one couldn't help but notice how aggressive the guys were. And I am not including myself. I have a reputation among my friends for being very eager to hit on random women, but to be honest I only react to cues that I receive from them. Even if those cues have no bearing in reality, I am a good enough salesman to turn nothing into something. Absolute naked aggression is actually outside my comfort zone, unless I have an audience.

It's weird - I feel like I am getting older, so I should act more responsibly. Yet even though I am becoming less the aggressor in a drunken social environment, I am still one of the younger guys in the place. Go figure.

At This Rate, He Would Be Better Off On The Weather Channel

Roger Goodell must be having a fit today. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports today that Pacman Jones was at the scene of a fight in an Atlanta Area strip club that ended in a highway shoot out between his entourage and another group of men. So far, only one person is reported to have minor injuries.

After Jones' meeting with NFL Commissioner Goodell, Jones was to undertake a strict schedule of online classes and staying the fuck out of trouble. His reward would have been the right to play six games instead of zero this season. That possiblity has all but vanished.

Pacman never seemed to learn the lesson that being in the wrong place at the wrong time is almost as bad as doing the wrong thing. I love strippers, and boobs are great - but they aren't worth giving up a career in the NFL.

Come on Pacman, please, make it stop (raining).

Ten Years For This?

Georgia is fucked up for a lot of reasons... Attorney General Thubert Baker has shown another reason yesterday. Most sane people agree that getting brain from a 15 year old is not that big a deal when you are 17. Certainly, angry fathers should have some recourse besides a shotgun - but no one thinks 10 years is appropriate anymore. Of course, when the 17 year old boy, Genarlow Wilson, is black, and the fifteen year old girl is white - the tempature down here changes. Maybe that is why the General Assembly elected not to make its new law decriminalizing (rather the oral sex is now a misdeamenor vs. a felony) this act retroactive.

Thankfully, a Superior Court judge came to his senses and allowed Wilson to appeal and reduced his sentence to timed served, with no requirement to join the sex offenders list. Two years for a hummer is bad enough (he was acquited on the drunken sex with another girl), although Baker disagrees. Even though Baker is black, the racial issue still looms. Why try to keep this kid in jail? It was all consensual, and the legislature agreed that the law he was tried under was wrong.

I can't help but identify with him. I'm black, and I remember the cute girl who used to give handjobs in the stacks at the High School library back home. The difference is that my parents and my uncles would have murdered me if I ever got caught messing around with her. Hell, my mom would have been able to tell by looking if I had just a little too much fun at school that day. There was no "boys will be boys" attitude in my home.

Attorney General Baker, Wilson may have been wrong, but two years hard time is more than enough compensation for his indiscretions.

Atlanta Hates Pro Sports

So Miss Daisy made it to town this weekend - and outside of strange mishaps like my central air refusing to work during the Georgia summer nights, it was a pretty good time.

The most interesting thing was our excursion to the Braves v. Cubs game on Saturday. I figured it would be a great way to spend an evening to have drinks at the Chop House above center field. The Chop House is a full service restaurant in the stadium with relatively good food and is also a great place to watch late twentysomething girls prowl around in tight jeans and sundresses in between innings. After all, not every guy will be watching the game, right?

While Miss Daisy never let me forget, I had accepted that there would be more Cubs fans than Braves fans in attendence. He regaled me with stories of the Chicago Cubs Nation selling out ballfields all over the US and Japan - and he didn't have to note that in comparision Atlanta can only boast a Braves Hamlet. What I didn't expect is that Cubs fans would buy up the $1 seats in the stratosphere, and bare 90 degree heat to watch their boys play. By the time we arrived at the ticket office, the only tickets available were for standing room only. We planned to hang in the restaurant and watch the game on the patio anyway, but still.

Miss Daisy had a blast, talking to people from Chicago at every opportunity. I hung out with a couple of my friends who came a long - including a newly married guy who was still shocked by the flashes of light reflected off his left hand. I really did feel like I was at Wrigley, and even pined for an Old Style. In fact the only Braves fans I even noticed the whole night were two girls in halter tops and hot pants adorned with the Braves logo.

I suppose for the Chicago Cubs and their fans, all the world is home field. Too bad they haven't won a championship in a century.

MissDaisy in ATL Remix

Some of you might remember what happened last year. Mostly gyros, ligers (oh my), Thundercats (are loose!), and enough alcohol to denature what's left of my hardwood floors.

This year I am probably going to be subjected to more MissDaisy one liners like these.

• Dude, you have a body by Miller
• Walking the dog? Did you have a Michael Vick moment?
• Wow, I think your theme song is "Make it Rain"

Of course, my revenge will be that I currently have the tolerance of a kung fu master getting kicked in the ballast. The booze will be swift, and hopefully going only one way.

Chances are good that my promise to MissDaisy's family that he will get home in one piece may be slightly exaggerated. As Nati and MadAngler can attest... a drunken weekend with me and my crew will turn you into into your favorite 1980s-1980s character. Nati turns into chair throwing Roddy Piper, MadAngler turns into Dr. Nick Riviera, and MissDaisy turns into Mrs. Betty Slocombe.

And I became HE-MAN... The most powerful man in the UNIVERSE! Seriously... keep me away from swords when I am drunk.

Happy Memorial Day

I hope you had a great time with you and yours. I tried to take it easy, and do things like try to learn Turkish (more on that in the coming months), work, and avoid getting arrested.

I did make it out to a friend's pool party where the girl to guy ratio was 2:1. Since there were nine people at this thing, it made conversation very estrogen-y.




This picture tells you everything you need to know about this party. If you don't get it, let me break it down for you.

• In spite of the ratio, this was the most interesting scene of the evening.
• The dog was the most enthusastic drinker at the party. I was a close second.
• The dog and I were the only black people there.
• If it wasn't for the dog, there wouldn't be any pictures from this evening.
• All this, and the dog is wearing a gay hankerchief and is scarcely bigger than a football.

Other than that, it was a great time!

Atlanta Doesn't Give You A Chance

It takes a lot of courage to head to a gym, knowing you belong there. Which is why Gary and Diane Heavin created Curves, a gym franchise that allowed women to work on looking and feeling their best away from the judgmental and prying eyes of men. With the support of her sex, a woman can exercise and make the right choices in her diet to successfully manage her weight and figure.

Not in Atlanta.



You can smell the BBQ goodness going and coming!

Friday Night: Sponsored By Guinness

Friday night I will be hanging out with friends at the Guinness Believers party, then off to a house party in Smyrna, and if I am still alive... "sexy dancing" at Loca Luna. It's never often enough that alcohol companies sponsor my good time. If they do this every night, I would be happy to wear logos on my clothes!

Unfortunately, the only girls I have met at the Guinness event were either engineers or relatives of executives at Diageo. So I found the above pic online. If you have something better, click here.

Tuesday Update - Who Parties on Monday?

Always bet on black.

Tuesday is the new Monday for me. Monday still has some excitement from 24 and random things going on, so Tuesday becomes the new "holy-crap-I-gotta-go-back-to-work" day.

Southeast sectionals was a bust last Sunday. I lost most of my bouts by a lot. It just wasn't my day. I will have a more detailed post mortem at Vader later this week. I wasn't too concerned when I found out that my event that started with 47 of some of the best male epeeists in the Southeast had grown to 74 of the best. I had a shot at qualifying for Division IA (top 25%) with 47 - at 74 there was little hope. The one A07 in my club barely qualified, and there are only two qualifiers from Georgia total. I am fencing in Division II for Nationals, that is good enough for this year.

The other annoying thing was that two cute fencer girls from Tennessee , one is on my Facebook, totally dissed me on Sunday. No love at all. I was hanging around waiting for pools, but not even a good luck wave. It was really weird - most fencers you will ever meet are friendly and gregarious at competition.

Monday was interesting. I hung out with two hot German girls, who are MBA students at Mississippi State. They were both 23 and wanted to party hard in Atlanta... on Monday. I put in a yeoman's effort to find something interesting - but we seemed doomed from the start. Midtown had a couple places open, but nothing was kicking, or worth leaving the neighborhood. Unfortunately, there was no consensus on simply hitting the liquor store and getting hammered at my place. Perhaps I need to stock Jagermeister in my freezer along with Goldschlager.

I did get to see 24 when we got back... it was actually pretty good. I was totally expecting the Chinese to kidnap Morris again; the pursuit of the kid was a nice twist. And having VPOTUS Daniels watch while his aide gets railed was kinda funny.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Mmmm... Coletrain, eres muy guapo!



Atlanta is having at least five huge blowouts for tomorrow's May 5 holiday, plus preparty's starting right now. I am hanging out with a friend, cute girl with a great ass, from out of town. Hopefully we will hang out, and I will be in bed in time to wake up at 5:30am to drive to Chattanooga to fence in the Southeast Sectional Championship. The event starts at 8am, and the field is extremely tough. Wish me luck!

ATL Bowling for $80/Hr, Still Sucks

I managed to avoid the initial fanfare, but Friday night I finally made it out to Ten Pin Alley in Atlantic Station. Atlantic Station is the newest incarnation of urban renewal in Atlanta, and is filled with high end shops, wine bars, and swanky clubs and trendy restaurants. It hardly seems a proper setting for a bowling alley, but this just isn't any bowling alley. Comparing a normal bowling alley to Ten Pin is like comparing a no account trailer trash whore to the late Anna Nicole Simpson. Sure they are essentially the same thing, but lots of cosmestics, money, fame, and hype is going to get people's attention.

First off, the place has a fucking bouncer. A large dude with a short mohawk, and I am pretty sure he might be able to kick my ass. After getting my ID checked at 8:30pm on Friday night, my cute blonde friend and I walked up the dark staircase and saw the main floor. Immediately to the right was a sunken lounge and a bar that served $12 cocktails, and to the right were 7 of the 10 lanes for the bowling alley. Of course only one guy was bowling... the other 10 folks were drinking and eating at on the admittedly gorgeous leather couches. The place brags about three levels, but each of the top two levels (complete with velvet ropes) are composed of two islands that each have a nice pool table and flat screen. Great when you want to play a friendly game and pay $200 for vodka bottle service. $300 more if you want champagne.

This is a place for folks who have money and don't care how they spend it. Expect lots of athletes and rappers, among guys who have no idea how to impress a girl. Apparently Scarlett Johanssen skipped Wilmer Valderrama's grand opening, recognizing the place for what it is... a overdone small bowling alley.

Lack of Class, Lots of Fun

When I lived in Indianapolis, I was a fan of a nice martini bar called Nicky Blaine's. At the time, Nicky Blaine's was located just off Indy's downtown Memorial Circle in the cleverly named King Cole building. It was a genteel place with dark walls, low lighting, and the faint hint of cigars and a light sweet sense of perfume from the gorgeous waitstaff. The martinis there were well mixed, the clientele were high class, and if you did happen to order one of their quality cigars, you were in for a rare treat.

After making your selection from the cigar list, a slender, slinky woman dressed in all black returned with a small tray. Carefully she took the chosen cigar and cut it in front of us. In the darkness of the bar her face and frame exploded in soft light as she struck a match, and lit a small flat piece of wood. She then took the burning wood, and slowly lit the cigar, careful to rotate it in an even burn as my friends and I looked on hungrily. After the cigar is fully lit - she finally presented it to us.

Nicky Blaine's was the ultimate destination for my friends coming through to Indy, especially guys from Wash U and my days in politics. Whenever we went we would dress up in nice slacks, jackets, some ties - and we just barely fit in with the older more monied crowd who filled the place.

So when I was invited to an event at Dailey's in Atlanta that promised cigars, martinis and good times - I was excited. Unfortunately, Dailey's is no Nicky Blaine's. While the martinis there are very good, the service is horrible, and the folks there - while nice, didn't excude the class I was expecting when I threw on a jacket and slacks to head out. Being the only one not in jeans made me feel like the old man in the club, never mind I was the youngest guy in the group.

While I was disappointed as I sat down, I felt better as I finished my first 007 martini and the group I was with started a game of "I Never." "I Never" is the one drinking game that must be played with bisexuals, gays, and the polyamorous - simply because the pure heterosexual experience only has so much interesting scenarios. And of course, "I Never" always turns to sex. The strangest thing was that there were two girls - a redhead and a blonde - who at first glance seem pretty, but introverted and a bit nerdy, yet they have had some of the wildest sexual experiences I have heard in a while. Like a threesome in an airplane bathroom. Then again, these girls remained relatively tame the entire evening.

However, this evening brought up the question I have been asking myself for a while. Where are the bars and lounges where people dress up, dance, and just hang out - rather than wearing the uniform of expensive jeans and stripped shirts?

Where Have All The Good Girls Gone?

Atlanta is filled with some nutty women. Many of them have their exploits recorded here, others... well I just don't want that kind of information getting out. One girl who I have lost track of is a fan of Craiglist's casual encounters section. For those of you who don't know - this online red light district is the perfect place for women and gay men to troll for horny guys. But before you guys rush to click the link - keep in mind the ratios are NOT in your favor. And most hetero female ads are pretty much porn sites.

One exception was a girl who ran this very interesting summer blog. Basically this chick runs around malls near major office buildings, and teases guys over lunch. Here is one gem.

Those who know me also know I am a flirt and a tease that’ll do things that one wouldn’t expect when you least expect. When we met after a quick hug, I sat back down in my car and took off my panties. My skirt was incredibly short and he just about flipped.

Of course, I found out about this girl during the time I spent most of my days sleeping, swimming, fencing, and watching Charmed (Rose, call me!) and Law and Order. We had some limited correspondence, but she wisely kept her vital contact info under wraps. Interestingly enough, she inspired other Atlanta women to do similar acts - only they didn't stop at teasing.

Part of me thinks this is all bullshit, but then again I wasn't joking when I said earlier that I met a woman here who had an impromptu orgy with her moving crew. Atlanta does have a flashy veneer, but under it is a wildness that defies belief. Of course, seeing is believing.

He Does Not Really Want Me Do This...

Like I mentioned earlier, my friend and male victim de jour Miss Daisy came to visit in Atlanta. Since he doesn't get out much, he was blown away by what a weekend in Coletrain's Hotlanta could entail. So much so, he wants me to do a dual diary of the weekend with him in this space and his. At first I thought this sounds like a lot of work, but his commentary on Atlanta music on his blog was quite the inspiration. So here we go!

Thursday - Left work at 4:30pm to go to Sweetwater Brewery Tour to start the night off right. Got distracted on highway and ended up at home, when I realized I still had to clean this place. Great. So I got to it and then hit McCrays on 6th St at around 6:45pm to meet up with the Washington University Young Alumni of Atlanta. This things are usually a 7 on the 1-10 fun scale, simply because the awkward cordiality of the people there is hilarious after drink three or four. Anyway, I arrive 30 minutes late and see a crowd of people in the front of the bar. I was hopeful, but the people there didn't have that special brand of stuffiness that characterizes all Wash U alumni. Ahh, my people are in the back of the restaurant, sitting at the only tables with tableclothes and candles - in a dark bar. This is the Wash U party.

So I approach my people, look around, say hello to people I remember, ignore anyone I don't know, and proceed to catch up (I figure I am only down two, or three.). After making some small talk, and at Brent the organizer's urging talking to a fraternity brother of mine on his phone and calling him by the wrong name (sorry Pokey), I decide to sit and brood until people I actually hung out with in school showed up. That started with Ryan, another frat brother who was excited Miss Daisy was coming, and Murry - a guy who knew me only by reputation, and I now have to reprogram him. Once the three of us started talking, we started cracking jokes and telling stories, everyone else brightened up or left, and it was a good time. At 9 or so I realized I needed to sober up so I could drive to the airport to pick up Daisy. On the way out, I took a random picture with my friend Melanie to celebrate that we met at one of these things a year ago - and we still talk!

Later that night, I get to the airport around midnight, forgetting to take down Daisy's flight number. And of course his flight was late. You see, Daisy was flying from Chicago O'Hare, the busiest airport in the country in terms of flights. He was flying to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Int'l, the busiest airport in terms of people. And number one and two in flights delayed and cancelled. So after circling about seven times I had to call my buddy in St. Louis who I knew would be both awake and at a computer to get the time when Miss Daisy's flight would arrive. Eventually I got him, and he wants food - so we go to Fellini's for pizza. And of course, only Daisy would get in a discussion about Chicago pizza with the pizza guy at 1:30am.

Friday - I get off work at one, and grab Ryan to get some food. We end up at this place called the Globe near Georgia Tech - a place that is WAY too trendy to be associated with an engineering school. Well, its Georgia, they blend lots of things that don't go together (more on that later). Some how Matt and I get into a discussion about James Spader. I think he rules because he is on Boston Legal. After some smarmy forgettable remark from Matt, I tell him he looks like Bill Shatner. You be the judge.

After the most expensive lamb sandwich I have had since Iceland, we went home and got ready for the Braves game. On the way, we had to stop at a convenience store so Miss Daisy could coke up with some cola. (Yeah, I call it that.) Of course this place was next to the GIRLS-R-FUN strip club and weird shit emporium. Really, I have pictures.

After watching the Braves lose to the Padres in the sweltering heat, we fought traffic for an hour and dropped Ryan off. Miss Daisy and I got showered, dressed and hit the town at East Andrews for two hours of talking to people who weren't having much fun. Yeah, it's after 1am but so what! After closing, we hit Landmark Diner on Roswell for... you guessed it, gyros! Fortunately, we didn't see any fat chicks to invite to after hours. However we had an awesome and gracious Bulgarian waitress, and we met the daughter of one of the owners, a pretty and precoscious 21 y/o blonde who couldn't make Miss Daisy smile even when she used her hands to pull his cheeks. Now that is wasted.

Saturday - Thanks to the miracle that is Atlanta transit, I had to take the streets to get out of Atlanta to see the ligers Saturday afternoon. We planned for the morning, but I didn't even open the front door until 5am. But, the trip through town did give Miss Daisy a chance to giggle like a schoolgirl when we passed Club One-Tweezy on Peachtree in Midtown. He didn't want to go, he just wanted to see it. After a quick 60 miles or so, we arrived at the Pine Mountain Animal Safari, and saw way too many unintentially funny signs. After a quick walking tour, we hopped on the bus to see the real reason we were here - the ligers. We weren't embarrassed to talk about it either, or anything else for that matter. At a loud pitch. In front of very confused high schoolers. In fact, we were probably as annoying as this guy.



Well, we did see the ligers (pics here) - they were in cages and looked pretty docile. They were also much bigger than their tiger mother and lion father combined, and at a young age. Wow.

There were also other interesting blends - including zonkies, zorses, but no zamels, or zinocheroses.

For dinner, Miss Daisy decided that he wanted to make his first ever foray into a Waffle House. This is gonna be funny. Think about a kid in a candy store, only instead of him sampling candy - it turns out to be acid. That's how he was in this place. But the staff didn't mind, it seemed like they never had anyone from north of Atlanta there before - they treated him like an honoured guest that's a little touched in the head. He sampled grits, and I give him credit for that... The other food there wasn't bad at all, and the place was very clean.

On the way back, nothing eventful - although we passed a truck with a GIANT THUNDERCATS LOGO on the tailgate. You have got to be kidding me.

That night, we hit a few clubs in Midtown. We started at Front Page News and listened to some awesome eighties music, while we both got hammered. Then we ended up at Cosmopolitan. Lesson to ladies - if you want to, well, be with Miss Daisy - if you see him holding on for dear life to the bar, don't trade Jager Bombs with him... you will both leave the club alone and disappointed. After a while we left Cosmo to go to Loca Luna, because I needed to move around and drink water so I could drive. Daisy, who can barely walk right now - continues to hit the gin. We all know how this ends...

After Loca Luna, it is coming up on 3am. Guess what? Yeah... gyros! We go BACK to the Landmark Diner, only no cute waitress, just fast service. Miss Daisy can't move at all now, so we pack up his gyro and go home.

Sunday - Today is fairly uneventful. We meet up with Ryan for lunch at Vortex in Little 5 Points, and while we are waiting we went to the Junkman's Daughter. This store is the embodiment of eclectic, complete with steel "tobacco" pipes that I haven't seen since we recovered Al's stolen station wagon from the crazy crackwhore back in college. Lunch at Vortex was awesome as usual, and we ended up just taking a walk around the neighborhood before heading to the airport.

All in all, a great trip. We saw the ligers, and we wore striped shirts out both Friday AND Saturday! Continuing with the Striped Shirt Article theme, I crushed four Red Bulls this weekend (even on my cereal!), talked about my job, called a place "full of skanks", and left to wait in line in another bar! Who says life doesn't imitate art!

If any of you (who I know) wants to hang in the ATL - holla!

Category:

• MissDaisy
• Friends
• Parties