Room for Rent

So here's the deal -- our preferred advertisement medium is a metal sign nailed to a tree, and we haven't had a tenant since Atlanta added a second area code like 17 years ago. So, when would you like to move in?

Pitty Pat's Porch

I meant to post about this restaurant months ago, but never did. I'm sure my good friend at Pecanne Log already has, but it was MY birthday celebration and I chose the destination, so I feel obligated to mention it. I'm pretty sure we are the only people who would actively seek out Pitty Pat's Porch. If you haven't been, you must.

The restaurant is named for Aunt Pitty Pat from Gone with the Wind. That's the first point I need to make to give you an impression of what we're talking about here. Second, it's located in the base of a parking deck on Andy Young International Blvd across from the loading dock for the Westin. You know the deck I'm talking about. Jalepeno Charlie's and Fire of Brazil on one side, Pitty Pat's on the other (this deck will be featured in my upcoming survey of Downtown Atlanta Parking Decks). Needless to say, a dramatic entrance. I made the mistake of poking my head in one day and was immediately taken aback by how aggressive the greeter was in trying to essentially recruit me to come inside. Luckily, I resisted. So, to start of the birthday celebration we hit up Pitty Pat's for a drink and appe-teaser. We had intended to sip overpriced Mint Juleps and Moonshiner Punch in the Rocking Chair Lounge, but it was reserved for conventioneers that evening.

It's a fake veranda that overlooks the rest of the restaurant. The room is adorned with Gone with the Wind paraphernalia, pictures of Loew's Grand, antebellum relics and an oppressive dash of Southern charm.

The stairway that led to the dining room is lined with pictures of "stars" who have dined at Pitty Pat's. Steve Gutenberg and Betty White were among the few. No shit, Steve fucking Gutenberg! I knew then that this place had an unparalleled allure to it. The first dining room we walked through is festooned with antique farming tools on the wall because guess what?! It's Southern! That homespun, down-home material recollection of better days when a man was a man and farming wasn't turned into multinational corporations receiving bloated subsidies from the U.S. government. I almost wanted to pull a washboard off the wall, grab a set of cutlery and go to town.

The dining room that we were sat in was a drastically different theme. Hunting!

Nothing says southern hospitality like taxidermy, drop ceilings and fake wood paneling. I'm pretty certain we were the only table that wasn't sucked in by brochures left at the concierge at the Westin.

For an appetizer we ordered the Blackeyed Pea Cakes. As the menu says, "Even Yankees like these crispy, pan fried cakes served with a special “Southern Salsa” made with fresh tomatoes, onions and peaches." Burnt black eyed peas covered in gelatinous glow of canned peaches was exactly what I was hoping for.

The only redeeming quality of the meal was the stone goblets they serve their drinks in.

Holden and Christa downed a couple Navy Grogs and somehow managed to make it up the steps.

And it ended at my favorite mirrored diner/coke den with pony tail karaoke, Metro City Diner. The mung bean pig treat was the best.

All in all, a very special evening!

The Beginning of MARTA

For all my MARTA lovin' friends out there who, despite its shortcomings, still hold a very dear place in their hearts for our substandard and struggling transit system, here are some photos courtesy of the Atlanta History Center to remind you of when MARTA had hopes and dreams of really being something. The photographers, Martin Stupich and Duane Cronk, captured MARTA in its construction stage. Stupich had received a grant from the NEA and Cronk was a consultant on the project.

However, if you are upset with MARTA, move along and cast your blame directly on the State of Georgia and the inept people who supposedly govern it. Perhaps once the gridlock reaches Waycross they'll realize that it's in their best interest to provide some funding to MARTA. Until then, hang tight.

The Spirit of Atlanta

So, in searching old photos for Atlanta for a couple projects I'm working on in my spare time (read: I'm unemployed and need to kill time) I came across a thumpin' single called "Buttermilk Bottom", after the intown neighborhood. The neighborhood is one of my latest obsessions, or at least what was the neighborhood. It was basically destroyed by the DOT, City of Atlanta, Southern Company, developers and Central Atlanta Progress. In any case, in further research I found out where the single comes from. An AMAZING album called The Burning of Atlanta by the assembled band The Spirit of Atlanta. Produced by local funk impresario, Tommy Stewart on his Buddah Records label, it was supposed to be the soundtrack for an unrealized movie (interview here). Still, friends we are left with a jewel of funk dedicated to the city that by all accounts should have had a real soul/funk scene, but never really did. Peachtree Street is just oozes smooth. Enjoy!

At least the 4 or 5 people who actually read this blog.

Fine Dining

Baby, my plan is to take you to the finest cafe in Atlanta.

As Seen on TV in Underground

I really respect a store that refuses to acknowledge that the internet exists and has somehow done so since 1988. Fuck the internet. I only buy what I see on TV! Always have, always will.

Collect Them All

Memorial Drive Chevron has ALL my holiday gift needs covered.

I Have a Comment

Last comment received: August 12th, 1996.

I just wanted to say that we've been so impressed with the MARTA service for the Olympics. An international city with world class transportation! Great work MARTA!

weird dude, where you headed?

i like to imagine that this guy was totally pissed that his girlfriend asked him to pick up a twelver of Mountain Dew Voltage and some contact lens solution right after he got ready for Dragon Con.

nobody sends Saruman to the CVS!

Dear AJC.com "My Style"

Dear AJC.com "My Style" Column,
Don't you ever change.
Love,
Me

the strangest flyer

this was pinned to a utility pole in my neighborhood. i still have no idea what it means.

Great Moments in Marta Advertising

You know that new movie, the one where a madman takes a train full of innocent transit riders hostage? You know what would be a really clever place to promote that movie? How bout a train full of innocent transit riders!

Sure enough, on my ride home on Marta last night, I watched in amused amazement as Transit TV broadcast the trailer for The Taking Of Pelham 123, complete with shots of a pistol-wielding Travolta forcing riders to the ground of a train cabin that looked a lot like the one I was currently sitting in.

I kind of thought I had imagined it, until I stepped out of the train a few minutes later and saw a HUGE AD for the same movie on the side of a Marta bus pulling out of the station.

Marta, I know they probably offered you like 250 dollars and all, but you're allowed to tell them no. Especially when its a movie about, you know, the threat of violence on public transit.

Atlanta's Regrettable Apartments

So, I think I'd like to start an ongoing survey of Atlanta's residential architectural mishaps. This little gem sits right down the street from me.  Nothing makes me feel quite as noble as entering my townhouse through a triumphal Roman arch. It also offers the convenience of having your front door sit immediately on the driveway. 

Neo Shark 4 Ever

I was in São Paulo Brazil a few weeks ago, and I kept a little journal of badass English expressions i saw on t-shirts, signs and graffiti. It's a weird thing, but I think the use of edgy-sounding English words down there implies something cool is automatically being expressed. And it absolutely is.

Graffiti
"Neo Shark 4 Ever"

T-Shirts
"College Attitude Is Only Hard Rock"
"Cyberdogg 2008"
"Cash For Chaos"

Clothing Stores
"Dress to Party"
"Opera Rock"

P.S. Enlarge image to check out the crafty broken bottle anti-burglar terracotta shingles.

please don't

i often find myself having a conversation with friends about what sort of things i would want in my neighborhood. a good deli, pizza by the slice, cheap asian food/karaoke and, of course, high-end pet clothing and accessories for the discernible animal.

finally my dog and i can have matching juicy couture sweatsuits.

plus, small dogs can get an "anal tidy".

Change of Heart

Has anybody else noticed how the Joel and Associates dude has gone all soft recently? What happened to the angry dad x3 who used to scowl at me from the side of every Marta bus in metro Atlanta? The new chin-on-fist Olan Mills shot brings to mind a swan trainer or dollhouse collector, which is simply not going to cut it when I sue my boss for letting me burn myself on the break room toaster oven.

awesome and painful

i came across this looking for a paul simon video on you tube.

it's almost so earnest you can't make fun of it.

Enlarged to Show Detail

An Unfortunate Decision on Spring Street

Sometimes when I'm at work and need to "clear my head," I'll go for a walk through midtown. The other day I was on one such walk when I spotted a pile of discarded CDs and party fliers in a lonely patch of weeds across from the Cheetah (I go there for the articles).

One way to know for sure that a demo CD is going to be awesome is if you find it half buried in mud and Arby's coupons outside an Atlanta strip club. So I dusted off my copy of "Thou Art Traficking Cocaine" and brought it back to play in my computer at work.

Well, now its stuck in there, making sandy grinding noises. I've been avoiding getting the IT guy involved, cause then I'll have to tell him the whole shameful and gross backstory -- "it's a perfectly honest mistake, you see, I found a compact disc on the side of the road and crammed it into this nice computer I don't deserve."

Now I'm going to have to belly up to the Apple "Genius Bar" and take my medicine. After they vacuum the georgia clay out of my computer and make me feel small, I'm going to go down to the lenox mall food court and eat a sad sack of Taco Bell cinnamon twists, occasionally looking up from my plastic tray for someone to be my friend.

Bolton Road Break Up

Back when I lived on Atlanta's west side (or the NWATs, as no one calls them), I used to go to this gas station on Bolton Road that had these incredible gas pump ads for low budge online greeting cards with strange as hell phrases addressing abstract emotional concepts.

My favorite was the "Break Up" card (shortened to an elegant "BU" brushstroke for stylishness purposes). Perhaps the clearest way to tell someone you don't want them in your life anymore is to break up with them via online greeting card you saw advertised on a gas pump handle.

one sad little park

As we all know, the "city of trees" is, ironically, totally deficient in green space.  So, despite it's lush canopy, I was further saddened to see that this counts as open space in our city. A 12' median in Vaggie-Hi.

At least we have Piedmont Park!

Spread the Love

I guess this makes up for holding a prayer sesh for rain on the capitol steps last year.

“It’s about three hours of the most fun you could possibly have,” 

a special valentine

another email from the archive for valentine's day

-----Original Message-----
From person 1
Sent: Monday, February 13, 2006 4:27 PM
To: person 2
Subject: RE: farwell ballzton

What's her last name? It's time for a Google/Friendster search.
I know it might not cool, but hey, I like to cyberstalk people! So sue me!


From: person 2
To: person 1
Subject: RE: farwell ballzton
Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2006 15:21:44 -0500

yeah, right. like i'm gonna tell you her last name. please, i can already
see the forthcoming mockery of her friendster profile. i only say that
because if i didn't know her, i'd likely do the same.
are you and b-bag doing anything for valentine's day?
body chocolate anyone?
i'm gonna stand in her doorway nude and cover myself in magic shell.
then i'll just yell until she answers the door.
then i'll clench my ass muscle and crack the entire shell.


-----Original Message-----
From: person 1
Sent: Tuesday, February 14, 2006 3:24 PM
To: person 2
Subject: RE: farwell ballzton

Don't be a pussy, Sack--I have two words for you: AIR POWER.

What if when you clenched your ass muscle the shell didn't break. And you
were just standing there making a grimacing face and she was just watching,
waiting for something to happen?

Mile High Atlanta

West Georgia municipal airport + pubed-up cot + certificate of achievement = the most creative Valentine's Day date you ever got divorced on.

Throw in a bottle of Cook's and a keepsake c-rag, and you have yourself one classy Hotlanta drill sesh.

Dave Navarro

So there's this flyer on my walk home from the bus and it makes me think two things.

A) For those of you who felt sorry for yourself that you had nothing to do for new year's, you could have been somewhere much, much worse.

B) You missed out on the most balls-down party imaginable. 

DeKalb Bangerz

Ummm . . . if you haven't had a chance to check out DCPD Bangerz, it is pretty much the best album of all time.

The backstory is that the DeKalb County Police website used to have these awesome different themed lo-fi crunk instrumental beats for each section of the website. So this dude took all the beats from the site and made an entire concept album from them. The real genius of it comes in how he writes lyrics based on the police website info. To me the tightest joint of all is "Meet The Chief."

Full album + more info available here.

The only downside is that DeKalb County Police has now tragically removed the original beats from their site.

Introducing. . . the crazy bench!

(click to enlarge crazy)

People in Atlanta always want to whine about how we are second best at stuff. But I disagree. In my experience, Atlanta is a top tier town for chilling w crazy folk. You really don't have to do much digging to run into a guy who's screaming at his own hand while gesturing to some points of interest on an unseen wall map.

By way of example, I offer this piece of improvised furniture left by the two 50-year-old hermit dudes who used to live down the street from me, before promptly disappearing one day. There are plenty of second and third hand stories to share about these gentlepersons, but I think their own words (scrawled in blood-like red sharpie on a homemade bench) really paints the picture best:

Darryl
Clarence
Eating Food
Happy Meals
A Lot of Tickle
Yes Yes Yes Yes
Happy People
Private Shopping List
Remember to Have Sex
Naked Penis Big Dick

The Boy Who Loved Trolls

I had been puzzling for an irritatingly long time about a made-for-t.v. movie I saw a bunch of times as a kid but couldn’t remember the name of. The thing is, I remember EVERYTHING, so when a face or memory pops up in my mind and I can’t place it, I go a little nuts. I’m usually able to solve these quandaries with a good ‘ole search on the interweb. That’s where I found the title of a book I remembered reading in my childhood but all I could recall about it for years was that the story involved a creature called “the wicked Oni” who lived under the earth and had one eye and that it was incredibly creepy. (The book is called, “The Funny Little Woman”, by the way. It’s a Japanese folktale. Glad I put that one to rest!)

There were a few concrete elements I remembered from the t.v. show but most of it was the mood of it... the vaguely menacing and nightmarish quality. I remembered there being some sort of alternate universe that a kid goes to and realizes he can’t stay in. That’s about it. Then last week I had a breakthrough: one of the main characters was played by Sam Waterston. I thought I was on the right track until my various Google permutations for “Sam Waterston” 80s and t.v. yielded a bunch of unrelated garbage.

Until last night, that is, when I was bugging B with my various fruitless searches and finally came upon a filmography for Sam Waterston and scrolled down to the 80s part. The title I’d been searching for for years literally jumped out at me and I screamed it out: “The Boy Who Loved Trolls”! Lo and behold, there exists about 15 minutes of it on YouTube and goddamn, it’s exactly as I remember it: the weird synthesizer music, the narrator’s voice, the depressing mall montage, the condescending parents, the prepubescent boy and his inappropriate fixation on trolls (while at the same time admiring ladies lingerie?).

Take a look:

But what I didn’t remember (and wouldn’t have) were all the obvious drug references and the general bizarre spaciness of it all. (What’s up with all the rainbows?) B and I were watching it and remarking to each other, “These people were totally HIGH!” It was part of a series that ran on PBS in the 80s and 90s called “Wonderworks”. Back when I was a kid living with hippie parents out in the woods, our little t.v. only got one channel (unless it was windy) and it was PBS. At some point we got a VCR and it was a pretty big deal, but the great part is that we almost never rented VHS tapes... instead we would tape things off t.v. and watch them over and over when, say, PBS was running a pledge break. I remember taping various episodes of Wonderworks and basically memorizing them from start to finish. The trolls episode was one of them and obviously it’s never really left my consciousness.

With all that settled, I feel like I’ve reached a new chapter in my life. Next up: ordering the DVD from Amazon and totally tripping my balls off.

A thank you to the d-bag behind me

I was doing some work at a coffee shop in my neighborhood and some dude, who is clearly about to graduate from business school at Emory, assumed that everyone there wanted to hear his conversation. But it was worth it. No shit, this is what he said...

"My resume is FUCKING money! I mean, I killed it on my cover letter!"

Then he proceeded to read his cover letter to his friend over the phone. Trust me when I tell you his cover letter was far from "fucking money".  Still, I just want to thank that chump for providing me with such sweet overheard conversation.

this is how we party

just a couple dudes working it out

Electric Avenue

Electric Avenue, Vine City, Atlanta, GA

I hardly imagine this is where one might "rock down to".

Dinner at the Crub

For the first time in six years, B and I spent the holidays with his family in Florida instead of with my family in the Midwest. The benefits of this are numerous, not the least of which is: Christmas Dinner at the Club. B groaned and dragged his feet, dreading the unpalatable meal we would undoubtedly have, rushed by the unexplainable impatience of the elderly. But not me. I enjoyed every minute of the experience.

The last time we dined chez the Crub, you see, was Easter of 2007. The tables were decorated with pastel napkins, there was an ice bunny sculpture and, get this: a full Dixieland band. I wanted so badly to get up and dance (no one else was) but was cautioned against it in the name of humiliating B’s parents. Poor B passed the meal in an exceedingly hung-over state, begrudgingly ingesting one tiny bite of food every 10 minutes or so.

The Christmas experience was only slightly less entertaining than the Easter Extravaganza, due to the distinct absence of live music. But yet there was the requisite ice sculpture, the guy carving meat and making corny jokes, and loads of old ladies wearing sparkly vests and men sporting their holiday ties. I unabashedly loaded my plate with shrimp and crab salad and drank a split of Korbel before moving on to the dessert table for apple crumble and vanilla ice cream. It was glorious.

As if we had languished over our buffet-style meal (we had not), the room was nearly empty by the time we left. I was still finishing my wine when B’s father announced he would pull the car around (meaning, he would hand his keys to the valet) so I barely had time to avail myself of the free tampons and mouthwash in the ladies’ room before darting out to the running car to be whisked back to... nothing really. Door-to-door I’d say we were gone from the house for an hour and a half.

Sure beats being stranded in the Chicago airport for 11 hours listening to inane cell phone conversations and watching our delayed departure inch later and later.

Atlanta Small Pleasures #2

I walk over this piece of sidewalk about 15 times a week. You know when you're a kid and you've got that piece of wet cement in front of you, and you only have like 10 seconds to think of something good to write? Why not create an eternal tribute to the pimpest of all desserts?

P.S. Pudding is 4 bitches.

a list of holiday favorites

this christmas was special for so many reasons. here are just a few.

1) microwavable hand warmers

2) porcelain coffee cup with rubber lid that looks like a real coffee cup!

3) 6-in-1 flashlight/end of days survival tool.

4) bag of pistachios

5) candle that smells of mahogany

these are actual stocking stuffers and i love every one of them. 

a holiday exchange

here is an email thread between friends recalling stories from our favorite time of year.

From: Friend1 [mailto:ez@hotmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, December 01, 2005 2:24 PM
To: Friend2
Subject: RE: pork stuffing Original Message

By the way, here's what you said about last year's Christmas party("Classic Sack" -your comeback record):

"we've got our office party today. southern comfort and egg nog. nog gobbler. did we have an egg nog joke in boston? we had a dimebag joke too right?who is dimebag darrell?
i'm gonna get hammered in the hour long party we have. just start drinking soco from the bottle. then i'll take the angel off the tree and hold a lighter up to it. then i'll stumble backwards into the tree and knock it over falling on top of it. then, clumsily i'll get up without saying a word, hit the elevator button and leave sobbing quietly".

From: Friend2 sk@cc.com
To: Friend1 ">ez@hotmail.com>
Subject: RE: pork stuffing
Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2005 14:29:39 -0500

oh man, that's funny shit. and yes "classic sack" is totally my greatest hits album. who the fuck is dimebag darrell? i especially like the lighting the angel on fire part. this year i'll try to swallow it while it's on fire and just burn the shit out of my mouth. then i'll try and cool it down with soco, only to cause it to hurt worse. transcribing shit is the worst. i tried to do that for about 5 mintues and gave up. do you have an office party? i can't wait to hear what you plan on doing at it.
deck my balls, d

From: Friend1 [mailto:ez@hotmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, December 01, 2005 2:39 PM
To: Friend2
Subject: RE: pork stuffing

Dimebag Darrell is that guy from Pantera who was gunned down on stage by one of his "fans." It happened last year around Christmas and the only reason I remember that is because I was joking about it at Christmas and my brother got all serious and said, "Dude, that's not funny," and everyone in the oom got really quiet. And then we all burst out laughing simultaneously. I have not one but THREE Christmas parties to go to! The big one is the all-HBS party. I'm going to get hammered on cheap chardonay and then get up and start performing fellatio on one of the ice swans. Then I'm going to walk down the long buffet table and just start kicking each plate off in succession. Then I'll jump up, do a flip in the air on my way to the ground, fall, sprain my ankle and have to be carried out. But not before dry humping the dean. So my friend's birthday is this weekend and this is where we're all meetingup:
http://www.gypsybarboston.com/ I'm really, really scared.

From: "Friend2" sk@cc.com
To: Friend1 >ez@hotmail.com>
Subject: RE: pork stuffing
Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2005 14:45:12 -0500
holy shit that's hilarious. both the party description and the bar. you're
totally gonna be in a picture like the one on the home page with a bunch of drunk ass blonde whores. all coked up and pounding the fuck out of apple martinis. the ankle sprain is classic. when you dry hump the dean you also need to pretend like you think he's an ice sculpture and start trying to give him head. be all "hey everyone! watch me suck the dick off this frigid piece of ice! it's awesome!"

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!

way into jesus

there's this guy that rides the 45 bus every morning. he wears the same clothes every day. walking sneakers. well tapered blue jeans.

a blue and green wind breaker that he cautiously zips at the bottom. 

it billows nicely.

and his hair is thoughtfully groomed. he must take a comb through it in the morning.

he has a perfectly straight brow line. you could balance a level on it.

he doesn't sit down though. he just stands next to the driver and starts to talk jesus. like end of days shit. 

he's not aggressive. he just stands there casually talking about the end times as if he's recounting a story of having to return his hair gel to CVS. tuesday it was all about the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse. 

then wednesday he did something really nice.

a girl got off the bus at inman middle school. she dropped something so he got off the bus and called out to her. i thought he was about to go rapture on her ass. instead he just handed her what she dropped and i thought, maybe this dude isn't so bad.

then i thought again, and concluded no; this dude is clearly insane.

the gayest thing i've ever caught myself saying

"The smell of Jasmine reminds me of Tuscany."

Atlanta Small Pleasures #1

Star Provisions is the one place in Atlanta where I get to rub elbows with wealthy stay-at-home-wives. Yesterday I happened upon a gaggle of them there, browsing for fineries. The great thing about America is that, to my knowledge, there is no law that expressly prohibits me from crop dusting rich people. Which I did. With every last inch of my fanny hole.

seasons greetings from pod three!

dear coworkers,

well, what a year it's been. can you believe that '09 is right around the corner?! i haven't even started my '08 resolutions! ;) everyone is pod three is doing well and we couldn't ask for anything more. of course we've been spending too much time at the printer north2, waiting on RFP's to print, but who doesn't have that problem?:) micah has been busy as ever pouring over contracts, getting another set of eyes on the project delivery system and of course preparing for the auditors, but he's taking it all in stride.

louie and preston are up to no good as usual. you should have seen the look on dennis' face when he did a QA/QC on their last deliverable! but everything has worked out fine. it passed the client's muster in the end. now we just need to get that ad-service money! 

as for me, i've been blessed. there's plenty of back-log and we nailing our profit margin, which is good news in this business climate, am i right? 

i still can't believe that IT dude upper decked the men's room.

have a blessed holiday season from us all, 

drew, preston, louie and micah.

some more bests

Best reason to be forced to delete your blog: you write something mean-spirited about a local mime, he Googles his own name and finds it and then enlists an arsenal of fellow puppet masters and “performers” and they begin a series of personal attacks and harassment. Rather than deal with the futility of fending them off, you just delete the whole thing and start over under an unrecognizable pseudonym.

Best question asked in a job interview: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how clean are you?”

Best way to ensure that you’ll have a shitty day: Take the Montreal Metro to work. Sit next to a woman with Tourette’s. Wait for the train to break down and sit motionless for at least 10 minutes. (Hopefully you’re wearing your down parka and boots because there’s hot recirculated air being pumped from a vent in the ceiling of the car.) Then inhale as several of your fellow riders proceed to gorge themselves on Sausage McMuffins.

Best cookie ever created: Girl Scout Samoas

Best thing a guy has ever said to you in the middle of the night when you wake up with a stomach ache: “Do you have to take a crap?”

i have a great costume idea

i know it's last minute, but i think i have an awesome idea for a halloween costume. pep this, last winter i went to telluride and had NO GEAR, so i bought a whole fucking outfit! i was totally into it, so i decided to splurge on a helmet and boots too. besides, i know i'm gonna use them all the time, so i figured it was a pretty good investment. so check it, i'm going as a downhill skier! it's gonna be amazing. it'll only take me a couple minutes to get ready and i'm so used to walking around in ski boots from spring break, that it'll totally be no prob. first of all, chicks are seriously into dudes who ski. fuck snowboarding, skiing is way hard. plus, once they see that i dropped five hundo on this North Face jacket and another two hundred on this Smith helmet, they'll know i don't mind spending a little flow to get what i want, right? i'm gonna get fucking plastered. and did i mention laid? tail grazin' in these boots will be smooth as hell. one big stomp at a time. and i'm definitely keeping my helmet on the whole time. i need to look dedicated to this shit. damn, even busting out my goggles and acting mysterious when i'm scopin' tang! didn't even think of that! yeah, i'm pretty sure this night is gonna end well. really well.

My first post will kick your ass.

This is super old but still good for a laugh.

Favorite part: "During this beating I may damage one or more of your household items, if I have to break glass to get into your home or knock over furniture if you attempt to run from me. This should be expected by you, and covered in my expenses. If you are married or have children, I may choose to slap around your family a little bit, but only if I'm feeling particularly generous. They should be informed of this, and expect it as well."

my list of bests

Best Sketchy Place to Hang Out: The intersection of North Ave and Boulevard (NE corner). The corner is totally unlit and sits next to an vacant parcel with an empty Payless Shoe Store. The six lanes you have to cross are life threatening, a total rush and winding up on that corner alone is a sense of freedom and imminent danger that you'll never experience any where else. 

Best Way to Become Disoriented and Mildly Freaked Out: Get on the wrong MARTA bus which has a similar route home to your normal bus. Then when it takes a turn where it shouldn't the freak out begins! And you know where you end up? That's right, North Ave and Boulevard. I speak from experience. This happened to me last night and thank god for my bro, John, who happened to be nearby. But damn, if those brief few minutes weren't a totally hot rush. 

Best Thing that I Could Make You For Dinner: Once I get a kitchen table, you're totally welcome to eat with me. 

Best Way to Confuse Your Co-workers: Red turtlenecks and Boss cologne.

Best Way to Gross Out a Woman: Eat a shit-load of wings

Best Parting Expression from Some Dude You Just Met: "Stay Fierce"

my first post (please don't let it be lame)

my first attempt at blogging. hopefully things will improve from here on out, but be patient and be forewarned that this may completely blow your mind. 

should i make a concerted attempt at a theme? is there really any theme out there that warrants in depth exploration by a novice of most things? maybe, but for starters, just straight up blogging, bitch. can you handle it? most likely you can. i have blind faith in all of you to be able to handle a bunch of serious shit that's gonna be coming your way. don't be afraid to bow up to it! you've got nothing to lose, friends. so hold on to something stable like a nice chest of drawers or a tight pinch on some wainscoting. wear a helmet. hold your breath. exhale. have a bite of this incredible satay that we just made...and say thank you.