In an attempt to get the great readership harnessed thus far (all 5 of you) more at ease with Atlanta and everything it is and isn’t, I will periodically post facts and reviews of places I frequent as well as of places I don’t frequent but grace with my presence every once in a while. These posting may be seen as a guide of what to do, or what not to do, if ever you are in or around Atlanta. Some of the recommendations will surely be a repeat of what you’ve read in travel brochures or other publications- but I assure you the reviews here will be much better; do trust me -I know what I’m talking about and I know how to find a good time. At least that’s what the voices in my head say after a few PBR’s. The reviews start this weekend from all the places and peoples I am planning on seeing so stay tuned.
This weekend I have a rather hectic schedule as I am trying to cram all the fun stuff, the stuff I actually want to do and the stuff I have to do in order to appease my conscience and trick myself into believing that I am in fact a well-adjusted, productive member of society. That and I have to fit time to consume some good mood altering liquids in preparation for my impending stint at the local detox clinic. I have been thinking a lot about the amount of drinking I do- ever since that drinking problem post, I wonder what that really means. (http://tinyurl.com/b8byt) Moving on to move though. It’s Friday and it is moving at the speed of Life, today’s speed is fast, very fast- already I have accomplished tons of stuff and I didn’t even stop for coffee on the way in. I have managed already to piss someone off here at work, but that’s ok though I don’t think it had anything to do with me; her wig’s on too tight and she's wearing glittery eyeshadow- she never wears glittery eyeshadow, I pointed it out to her about the eyeshadow and she almost threw her shoe at me in the conference room- that and she knows Napoleon’s (http://tinyurl.com/dglcu) coming back on Monday so her week of freedom is coming to an abrupt end.
I’ve pointed out before that I live vicariously thru my imagination and that that entails getting stories from other folk and those are sometimes really funny things. Fridays are “stay-in for lunch” days around here on account that Napoleon wants to foster a team spirit type thing and seems to think that forcing his crew to sit and eat California Pizza Kitchen every Friday in the conference room will do just that. Go Team! So today I am stuck in, even though Napoleon is somewhere in France (he really is in France- but it’s ok ‘cause he took his international phone with him so he’s only a ring away). The other few funny freaks that work here are going to lunch sans moi. But I still got a laugh and a tidbit of whatever they’ll end up discussing out there, as I’ve said; lunch dates are nothing but a riot of fun, making fun of the fools here and telling the going-ons of the silly-ass dating world out there.
Young guy, he’s only 22, just told about his date this week. We were talking about ironic t-shirts (read: stupid t-shirts) and I told them about my shameful internet purchase of not long ago. I wasn’t even drinking when I ordered these t-shirts- it just seemed like a good idea then. One reads: More Cowbell and has a picture of a cowbell on it. I think I bought it because I thought I was in some sort of love with a percussionist guy who for some reason does not love me back. (That t-shirt’s now toast, not because of him but because I have now seen the error of my ways). The other t-shirt has a picture of your typical pirate –eye patch, hat and knife between the teeth and all. It reads: Arrrgh you free Saturday Night? Don’t ask. Please. What’s worse though: I’ve worn it. Twice.
So young guy said that he went on a date with this girl on Wednesday and she showed up wearing a t-shirt that read: Jesus Rocks. He said that he made sure he had his way with her. They have another date scheduled. He says he can’t wait to tell her he’s Jewish. I’m glad his moves worked even if Jesus is her homeboy, my cheap neighbor once told me that Jesus is the ultimate cockblocker on account of his not being able to get any from the girl he was “working on” at the time. He said that they’d been dating and right when the time was almost there for the anticipated copulation she told him that she had let Jesus into her life and was no longer interested in living her old life- that included the promised sex, so the cheap neighbor got none. While his story had the one good element I had never heard, I hadn’t up ‘till that point heard anyone refer to Jesus as a cockblocker (I've heard him called a carpenter, the good shepperd, the light of the world, the Jew who thought he could but never the ultimate cockblocker), I didn’t have the heart to tell him the real meaning- she didn’t really like him and she really didn’t want to sleep with him. At all.
The moral of this story is: Don’t fall victim to the stupid t-shirt cult. Please. I wish someone had been watching over me as I surfed the internet and came across that dumb website with the idiot t-shirts. Oh, well- I told you you’d learn something.
This weekend I have a rather hectic schedule as I am trying to cram all the fun stuff, the stuff I actually want to do and the stuff I have to do in order to appease my conscience and trick myself into believing that I am in fact a well-adjusted, productive member of society. That and I have to fit time to consume some good mood altering liquids in preparation for my impending stint at the local detox clinic. I have been thinking a lot about the amount of drinking I do- ever since that drinking problem post, I wonder what that really means. (http://tinyurl.com/b8byt) Moving on to move though. It’s Friday and it is moving at the speed of Life, today’s speed is fast, very fast- already I have accomplished tons of stuff and I didn’t even stop for coffee on the way in. I have managed already to piss someone off here at work, but that’s ok though I don’t think it had anything to do with me; her wig’s on too tight and she's wearing glittery eyeshadow- she never wears glittery eyeshadow, I pointed it out to her about the eyeshadow and she almost threw her shoe at me in the conference room- that and she knows Napoleon’s (http://tinyurl.com/dglcu) coming back on Monday so her week of freedom is coming to an abrupt end.
I’ve pointed out before that I live vicariously thru my imagination and that that entails getting stories from other folk and those are sometimes really funny things. Fridays are “stay-in for lunch” days around here on account that Napoleon wants to foster a team spirit type thing and seems to think that forcing his crew to sit and eat California Pizza Kitchen every Friday in the conference room will do just that. Go Team! So today I am stuck in, even though Napoleon is somewhere in France (he really is in France- but it’s ok ‘cause he took his international phone with him so he’s only a ring away). The other few funny freaks that work here are going to lunch sans moi. But I still got a laugh and a tidbit of whatever they’ll end up discussing out there, as I’ve said; lunch dates are nothing but a riot of fun, making fun of the fools here and telling the going-ons of the silly-ass dating world out there.
Young guy, he’s only 22, just told about his date this week. We were talking about ironic t-shirts (read: stupid t-shirts) and I told them about my shameful internet purchase of not long ago. I wasn’t even drinking when I ordered these t-shirts- it just seemed like a good idea then. One reads: More Cowbell and has a picture of a cowbell on it. I think I bought it because I thought I was in some sort of love with a percussionist guy who for some reason does not love me back. (That t-shirt’s now toast, not because of him but because I have now seen the error of my ways). The other t-shirt has a picture of your typical pirate –eye patch, hat and knife between the teeth and all. It reads: Arrrgh you free Saturday Night? Don’t ask. Please. What’s worse though: I’ve worn it. Twice.
So young guy said that he went on a date with this girl on Wednesday and she showed up wearing a t-shirt that read: Jesus Rocks. He said that he made sure he had his way with her. They have another date scheduled. He says he can’t wait to tell her he’s Jewish. I’m glad his moves worked even if Jesus is her homeboy, my cheap neighbor once told me that Jesus is the ultimate cockblocker on account of his not being able to get any from the girl he was “working on” at the time. He said that they’d been dating and right when the time was almost there for the anticipated copulation she told him that she had let Jesus into her life and was no longer interested in living her old life- that included the promised sex, so the cheap neighbor got none. While his story had the one good element I had never heard, I hadn’t up ‘till that point heard anyone refer to Jesus as a cockblocker (I've heard him called a carpenter, the good shepperd, the light of the world, the Jew who thought he could but never the ultimate cockblocker), I didn’t have the heart to tell him the real meaning- she didn’t really like him and she really didn’t want to sleep with him. At all.
The moral of this story is: Don’t fall victim to the stupid t-shirt cult. Please. I wish someone had been watching over me as I surfed the internet and came across that dumb website with the idiot t-shirts. Oh, well- I told you you’d learn something.
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