Insane Things Girls Have Said To Me In The Club

Check out the above video. Holy crap, it's funny 'cause its true. It reminds me of all the times I have been in the bar or club and have been unlucky enough to have reasonable people around me as a buffer. I have heard some pretty outlandish things over the years.

• Wow, you look a lot like Usher. I know, I've met him for realz. You are cute. [Then she walks away]
• You seem really nice. I bet you have great parents.
• Why were you talking to that other girl? I'm going to kill you.
• I saw you kissing that little red-headed slut. She wasn't even hot. You suck.
• Can you flag down the bartender and get me three vodka-Red bulls, and two gin and tonics? You're paying for them, right?
• What the fuck! You should pay for the pleasure of my company!
• Wow, you look like Forrest Whittaker!
• You ARE Forrest Whittaker! Don't lie to me! I know how you Hollywood types are.
• I've got a boyfriend, but you are invited to my pool party tomorrow night...
• [Strange woman randomly french kisses me when she walks through the barroom door] We shouldn't do this, my husband is coming in right now.
• This town is so racial. Look, that line across the street is nothing but black people, and this one is nothing but white people. [Never mind I am standing behind the white girl talking.]
• Can I touch your hair?
• Can I touch your [bald] head?
• Why won't you buy me a drink?
• Why aren't you smiling?
• You don't look happy.
• You're black, what are you doing here? [The girl speaking to me was an African-Puerto Rican mix]
• Wow, I'm blacker than you are! [Said by a native born Dutch girl]
• You are awesome, you would be perfect for a girl I know in my office. She is a bit overweight and has two kids, are you cool with that?
• You had better buy us some shots, or we won't leave you alone with our friend.

Sometimes, it makes my head spin. Most times, the craziness sends me running to the bottle. And people wonder why I drink so hard when I am out.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Five Nightlife Activities More Fun Than Making It Rain

I could do better than that.

Pacman Jones is in trouble. And according to his family, he just has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. At nearly 24, he is already involved in an nearly deadly shooting, among other craziness as he tries to settle in the NFL.

While I am sure Pacman has a lot of personal issues to resolve, I am willing to take his family at his word - that he is around the wrong kind of people and just doesn't know how to have some fun without getting into trouble.

Given that I am a 27 year old single black man in Atlanta, I can be a bit of a mentor to Pacman Jones. My sights aren't on playing in the NFL, but I've never been a witness/suspect in a shooting either. But young guys are supposed to have fun - so here are five things that Pacman could do with his millions without getting into trouble. My brother, this is for you.

1. Keep your $81K on your debit card, not in a Hefty bag. The last time I saw $81,000 was on a tax return (definitely not my bank account) - so even I wouldn't have had the restraint seen in the above video not to snatch at money floating all around. You want to impress your friends at a strip club? Use your cash to reserve the VIP spot, and get lap dances all around... Depending on the reputation of the club, the more respectful you are to the girls (and the more money you have) the more the girls are willing to do besides just wiggle. Everyone - patrons, girls, owners - leaves with a smile on their face. My friends and I have done it for MUCH less than what Pacman pays in sales tax.

2. Use a car service. Drinking and driving is a huge problem, but it really burns me when rich people do it. Most major cities have private car services, or at least you can arrange them with limo groups in town. They don't cost terribly more than a cab - and the cars give you an air of class and make you look more generous than you are (that means more girls). I use them in NYC and DC, and it makes me come off as a pimp. And I have never had a DUI.

3. Work a nightclub's VIP room. The problem with Pacman is not that he is a thug, but he has the thug types with him. If you really have to have your best friend from third grade who never made it around - hook him up in the VIP. Free drinks, and a message for the bouncer that only hot girls and your friends get to move in and out freely. If I know anything at all, there is nothing that soothes the savage beast like a drunken hottie. Just make sure she is down to clown, or this idea might get you on the news as well. After the club closes, move the party to a hotel or something. I've done it, it works, it gets wild.

4. Hang out with just me, myself, and I. Everyone needs room to breathe, as do you. Depending on the city, you might get recognized - but if you abandon the "security" you will have a much better time relaxing. And hey, if you make it out to a classy bar and a cute lady chats you up, well - you might have a surprisingly good evening without involving the police. I travel for work and have done this in cities across the West... awesome.

5. Just like Kid 'n Play... House Party. There are three things you need to have to make this work: a great location, plenty of drinks and food, and a tight guest list. Location is important... you are always better off renting a secluded house and paying some Hefty bag money to have it professionally cleaned when you are done. Make sure to have plenty of booze so that no one get rowdy, and plenty of food so no one dies from alcohol poisoning. I would limit the contraband if I were you. Lastly, the guest list... you are a popular guy, so keep it tight. This is your opportunity to make a (good) name for yourself - so be VERY selective. If you get a reputation for throwing great parties, you can use this as leverage to invite reporters so they will write more favorable stories about you. House parties are always the most fun parties bar none, which is why so many college fraternities have them, and adults go out of their way to plan them. For someone with $81,000 to literally throw around - it is a way to have the best time possible, improve your image, and stay out of trouble. Hey, its how I roll...

Best of luck!

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