Bad Concepts - Revisited

Ramblings Post #190
There was a time when Saturday Night Live was funny. Okay, maybe I was thirteen and my finely tuned sensor humor still had some growing to do. But there was a time a long long time ago when Saturday Night meant a bowl of snacks and large glass of Kool-aid. Not much longer after that it meant beer and babes, loud music and a greasy breakfast at a roadside diner. Its someplace else now, but I'm not quite sure where that is.

Bill Murray on SNL's Weekend Update...sometime in the Late 70's

A few years ago, some friends of mine trying to make a few quick bucks, decided to throw a party on a Sunday. Because in Georgia you can't buy liquor on Sunday, the rule was bring a bottle or give up $20. After they charged for "PREMIUM" parking they made quite a pretty penny.

However, when you throw a party and charge - people expect a party. So the people who arrived at 11pm and paid $20 expected a party to still be going on until they got done. Which might have as been as late...as till they're ready to go home. And since the people throwing the party had these things called JOBS to go to Monday morning, this eventually turned into a BAD CONCEPT.

Earlier this week I updated Sporty to my weekend plans - A pool party an old partner of mine was throwing, studying all day Sunday, and a helping my RP cookout on Monday. Not as ambitious as say, five or six years ago, when Friday would have been two or three functions, Saturday would have been three or four cookouts, Sunday my home town crew would have rolled in and we'd have ended up somewhere until 3 or 4am, and then Monday an easy breezy recovery cookout somewhere else. I used to send out a newsletter at work. I guess I've gotten slow in my old age. Well, not really, I've just changed my priorities and taken myself out of the mix so I can concentrate.

So today is Saturday. And the party is today starting at 3pm. At Piedmont Park.

If you live in Atlanta, you know why that statement makes this party - a BAD CONCEPT.

Piedmont Park is Atlanta's way downmarket version of Central Park. It does however have a just finished remodeling Pool Complex. Unfortunately, the people who designed the park figured that at most 25 or 30 folks would ever want to use it at one time. Maybe 50 on a sunny day. Because there is NO parking. And the streets that surround it a small and narrow. And it's four blocks from the Atlanta Metro Transportation system. And the second the sun comes out on a Saturday, an estimated 2 billion people immediately try to squeeze into the space. Or something like that. Traffic is a nightmare. Parking, as I mentioned before, is non-existent. None of this came to mine until I was in the car...on the way. At 6pm.

I had gotten the email with the rules for the party on Friday, an had become a little less than excited. The term "party" had been mis-used, as in reality this was a closed market situation - pay to get in, pay for drinks, pay for food, pay for towels, etc. But I hadn't been out in a while, so meh. In and out. I waited until the sun started going down, figuring most of the crowds would have dissipated. But traffic was still bumper to bumper. There was no parking. Even the secret lot I used to use was full. And I wasn't about to park on a side street and risk getting towed by an over zealous someone who felt I shouldn't be parking on their street...despite the fact they moved next to the park knowing people would park on their street.

So, I'm not going to the pool party.

Thank god I have that bottle of Knob Creek in my liquor closet.

Barkeep, I'm gonna need a little cola to go with this.

I understand they played a game...

Ramblings Post #170
It is one those American Unofficial Holidays. A day when people gather to watch grown men play game. It is moment of joy to millions, frustration to millions, and a few great commercials to the vast majority of us. Who was I rooting for? Well let's just say, to have the Steelers win on my field would have hurt more than you know.

Last year, around kickoff of the Superbowl, I got a call from a friend with bad news. The game was really more of an afterthought at that point.

Well, technically, the game is usually an afterthought, as I attend most Superbowl parties for the party part of the festivities - the people, the drinks, etc. And since I started school, I haven't been getting out much due to maturity, responsibility and studying. So this year, when my RP hit me up and gave me directions to a little function around the corner from my house, I was ready to go.

You ever go someplace, a little confused and lost, then upon arrival you see a few familiar faces and everything is okay? That's how it was. The directions looked funny, but when I walked in it turned out I knew these guys, they had just moved. And upgraded.

I often thought what I have is a big TV. Well, I walked down stairs to the main party room, and these guys have what is at least a 100 inch HD projection screen TV. It took up the whole wall. The picture was crisp, the players on the field bigger than life sized. That said, I didn't know until today that the Steeler QB threw three interceptions, or that somebody missed a field goal, or that somebody fumbled. It apparently was a very good game.

Now that's a big TV
(Faces blurred because I don't where they claimed they was)

I did meet the bartender's mother. Very nice lady, from Ohio, worked with the Department of Defense. I ran into Slim, who I hadn't seen in a minute and who now wants me to go swimming with her to tone out my thinner frame. I met a lady who drives the pink Cadillac that the good folks at Mary Kay gave her. I got mistaken for the owner of the house (a common party occurrence). I ran into about twenty people that I hadn't seen in ages, including three or four I had to greet with a "hey!" because I don't ever remember getting their name the first time I met them years ago.

Then, as the third quarter came to close...at least I think it was the third quarter, I remembered that had I promised Spanky that I would ride by her Superbowl party for a hot minute.

Spanky's party
(Faces not blurred, because some people might need alibis)

A few minutes later, I pulled at Spanky's little....house. There are a number of adjectives I could use here, but I'm going to say house. The difference between it and house I'd just left was roughly the difference between a private jet and a bi-plane. A very nice bi-plane - hardwoods, Ikea'd out, cozy, good bones - but still a bi-plane. Or at least that's how it felt. I saw a few more folks I hadn't seen in a while, and did get to see the end of the game.

Apparently there is a video of them playing the Micheal Jackson Experience on the Wii at halftime that a lot of hush money is going around to keep out of the public eye. If anyone out there can get their hands on it, I can reward you with $4, a copy of CD it think I got out of gift bag some years ago, and two old copies of Creative Loafing if I haven't thrown them all out.

Two sides of the coin. One party lavish, one homey. My folks at both. You could say I am, and by extension my people, are a little hard to pin down. And you'd be right.

After Spanky turned MJ back on as soon as the clock on the field hit zero and the coach got hit with the orange stuff, I wisely slipped out the back and made my way home. I knew I had work in the morning, partially because I'm dedicated like that...and partially because Hugo claimed he just happened to be having "something" delivered on Monday and wouldn't be in.

Barkeep. The stadium looked great. The 'boys house looked good. A quick one, I got to get back at them books.

I leave on this photo. Six months ago this guy was locked up. Yesterday, just like the former President, he sat in a box at the Superbowl. What a country.

Micheal Steele might be....The Mole!

This is a political post.

Secret agent Steele?

When I was in undergrad, on Friday's a few guys and I would go to the best Happy Hour in Tallahassee. When I say best, I mean the freaking best. This was a Happy Hour buffet with mashed potatoes and prime rib, spaghetti, baked chicken and even fresh tacos. With full sized plates and literally no crowd, you could eat heartily for the price of single drink once a week. Well, not really. What was the true price of this meal? Once a week I had to go to a Western themed redneck bar to get it. And each week I'd get ID'd, then order my one drink and chow down. It took a few trips, but I figured out that even there, they were a little afraid of asking the black people to leave without causing an bigger issue than the one they already had.

Which is where the Republican party is right now with Micheal Steele.

How do you fire the one prominent black Republican in America without looking like...well, without looking like what people think you are.

And damn if the brother isn't milking the party for everything under the sun. I mean he's going BIG. He's been talking about buying a private jet with RNC funds, he travels by limo and stays at the best hotels. On a midwinter trip to Hawaii, probably checking on Obama's birth certificate, Mr. Steele ran up charges of almost $44,000....not including the plane ride. We won't even discuss the few stacks "somebody" dropped at the bondage club in LA that the RNC approved of...while he just HAPPENED to be in town. The term he might want to learn, since he likes trying to infuse urban slang into his speeches is "big ballin' baby! ". And he's done it all while having the people who hired him as the Anti-Obama sit quietly and fume about his antics. Well, maybe not quietly, but fume nonetheless.

He looks like a baller, doesn't he?

It sounds insane I know, but maybe Micheal Steele is a mole, sent by M.A.D.E.U.P. (Mythical American Democratic E-something Usurping People's-Rights) to both embarrass the Republicans with his antics and bankrupt them with his profligate spending. I mean think about it, where is Micheal Steele's birth certificate? Has he ever eaten a bean pie? Where is his people from? That the RNC donors are bleeding cash due the economy and the party's coffers are starting to get a little low would make people consider cutting back just a bit, maybe. I know they're going get an uptick from people still made at Obamacare, but still, Steele is making it "rain" more than a little bit. So maybe he is mole.

But what do I know. His spending might be the Republican Stimulus plan. Maybe.

Just like riding a bicycle

Ramblings Post #76
If you've been doing something for a while, you tend to get good at it. I've been at the current job for seven years and at this point, I can condense five or six hours of work into two intense hours. You do learn it and know it. But I've been hanging out since I was ...well, let's just say I've closed out my second decade. I've had my good time, some of your good time, and I'm borrowing against someone else's good time. And so though I've been away from the "game" for a minute with school, when we lace'em up and hit the hardwoods, I'm still hitting three's from the top of the arc. Rebounding still not so hot.

I hadn't been out and about in a long time. With work, school, studying for school, sleeping and the occasional bathroom trip, I really haven't had the time. I'm guessing Sporty and I would have been Monday night or Sunday night regulars had she still been in town. But with three weeks of the kicking it until I head back to the legal gulag, it was amazing how fast it all came back to me.

Friday night at 5:30, I'm still at the office messing around when my RP calls from 5 years ago. By that I mean: There is a party happening somewhere in Atlanta right now or in the next hour, this is the host, here is the address or some directions and... go! We hadn't saddled up and rode like that in a while.

So I run by the house and spiff up a touch then roll out to the Christmas party for an Atlanta law firm being held in the event space on the 50th floor of 191 Peachtree Tower. Which means things haven't changed all that much. Back in the day the invite would be a mansion somewhere or an invitation only spot where my name would somehow end up on the guest list, so the only thing that has happened is that we've gotten older.

The spot is nice, the usual crowd is in attendance and apparently women can smell the legal on you. I wasn't there 10 minutes before I'm chatting with a few chicks and getting the look from a few more. I want to say I worked it like the smooth player that I am, but the reality is I'm so out of the game I put myself on the bench a few times that evening, not sliding in like I know I can when confronted with a possibility.

Saturday Sporty hits me and surprise, she's going to be in town the week of Christmas. Which is like WOW. I'm not sure what's going on. But I do know it means I have to clean up the house like for real. And just when I was going to break out and do the little bit of shopping (I'm a college student, and I'm broke so the operative word was little) .

Saturday night was....how can I describe this? Long? Tiring? Interesting? Saturday night we had the annual "Come as you are" Cocktail party. We invite our folk, we gather some toys for children and have a nog to celebrate the passing of another year. Okay, we gather up as much alcohol as we can, crank up the beat and let it all hang out until we can't take it no more. We're closing in a decade with this party, and it just keeps getting bigger. Then the Cowboys beat the Saints and the night is just looking all spectacular! I also broke a personal rule and went out for the third night in a row. I'm getting too old to keep doing this, and a while back I said that three nights in a row was just showing off...but here I was again.

Out at the "Mansion", we set up the DJ booth, iced down the drinks and got started around 8pm. I was still serving at 3am. I know we don't do it as often as we used to, but I need to talk to RP about the good ole days when we'd shut it down around 1am just because.

At this point I'd like to ask God why he sends them all at once.

So I'm at the party and who should pop up by...let's call her Swift. I've known Swift for a while, about my age, from NY with a noticeable accent, and apparently...really into me. I ran into her last summer but we were just passing ships in the night. So she pops up a Christmas time. She and her buddies stayed until long after the set was over, hanging out and dancing and all the other after party futzing around that happens when the party's over but you want to play that one more song, or do that dance you hadn't done in a while. Swift seemed like suddenly she was interested instead of our normal flirting and then "see ya" we normally do.

So like, what's going on? I mean really going on...

I think I'm reading way too much into anything right now. I'm suddenly missing the mindless intensity and attention to detail of law school, and that's saying something.

Barkeep...Tall glass of Ice Water. Make it a double.

Bad Concept Redux

Ramblings Post #49
The definition of lunacy or stupidity or insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting to get different results. The problem comes in when you look at the situation and the result you thought everyone was looking for is different from the one you expected. Then it gets tricky. This was one of those tricky moments.

If you do it once and it's a bad idea, why not try it again?

Because it was a bad idea from the beginning.

Once again, in my last party of the year, the boys decided to do it all on Sunday. Okay, not the same boys as the first time, but they were in attendance, some other guys I know from New York. It took me a moment to realize the benefit of doing it on a Sunday, but I now realize the profit concept the guys are working on.

150 People. Ten bottles of liquor. You do the math.

You can't buy alcohol in Georgia on Sunday. So you have a party and require all the guys to bring a bottle to get in. Or to donate to the cause. And what they're counting on is guys donate a few dollars. I thank god that the weather was bad for most of the day, otherwise it would have been ugly. It rained off and on, and it was getting a little dark by the time the sky cleared and crowd arrived. I again reiterate the concept that apparently less people have to go to work early on a Monday than I thought. Or just don't give a fuck. There are two or three people when I see them next I will have to ask what it is they do.

And what is about the one more drink concept? When we shut the bar down at 10pm, we were faced with a circle of people hovering trying to get one more drink. And if you served one, you had to serve another, then another and so on an so forth. We kept one more up for about thirty minutes, until finally I just collected my tips under one arm and a remains of the decent liquor under the other and broke camp.

As it was I called it early this time, drove home and woke up as fully rested as I had ever been at 6am on a Monday morning. I mean rested rested. I felt good. Awake. Alive. And just because I'd woken up bright eyed and bushy tailed at that hour for the first time in a year .... as a reward to myself I curled up and tried to take my ass back to sleep.

I'm gonna need a bigger boat.

Barkeep, I'm gonna need a tall tea. Oh that sweet tea.

Bad Concepts

Ramblings Post #47
For many years I didn't have a cell phone. I was one of small group of individuals (I think the other six folks in Atlanta are still holding out) who felt that if you needed me, you could reach me at home. When I had no phone, plans didn't change enroute, things didn't get canceled at the last minute, and people would complain when their phone would ring and it would be for me. Then I got a cell phone. And I stopped remembering phone numbers. And plans could change. I could text. I was mobile. That little box links me to the world. Oh mighty cell phone.....

If there is ever a question about whether something is a bad concept or not, then it probably is.

Case in point, my RP and the rest of the wild and crazy gang decided we needed to have a pool party this last weekend. And that was a Bad Concept. Why was that a Bad Concept you ask? Why would getting together friends and other various hangers on, raising a cup or two in celebration while enjoying a few noshes and gallivanting about in fun and frolic a Bad Concept? Why it sounds positively great you say. So why, oh why is it a Bad Concept?

Because we did it on a Sunday.

Apparently for a lot of people in Atlanta, going to work on Monday mornings is strictly optional. Or there are a lot more unemployed folks hanging out than we realized. I say this because we hoped the crowd would slowly drop off the later the evening got, due to people having things like, say, responsibilities. Be home and dry by ten, eleven at the latest. Instead it seemed to pick up and we literally had to close up shop at eleven pm and even then the stragglers still kept hovering over the bar.


Okay, I did see a few folks that I hadn't seen in a minute and it was great to get out for the first time in months, but even when I was younger, you got a day to "recover" from the madness. You would have danced up a storm, stayed up too late and the next day you were able to sleep in and have a hearty brunch. I can't remember all the times I woke up late and hooked back up with the folks I'd hung out with just the night before over some grub to recount our antics. Instead this time I got up and had to go to work. My back hurts, I'm tired and if I could just get up and go home, I would.

Sunday parties are not a good idea. AND I lost my cell phone.

Barkeep. Water. Dry.

The weekend of plenty...kinda.

Ramblings post #4
I begin to feel the icy fingers of responsibility brush at the edges of my being as the cold reality of mediocrity at this next level of education imprints itself on my mind. Well, not really. But I do need to step it up the next level...or two, because I'm better than the middle of the pack. And if had been paying attention, I'd be a B student right about now.

So it's Superbowl weekend and normally I'm trying to figure out where I'm heading party wise, who'll have the hottest little set and if this is the one time in three months I'll have a drink. It usually isn't, but I do tend to find the hottest parties. Last year with a Sprite in left hand - before I gave up carbonated beverages - and a girl on my lap, and another girl flashing her cleavage, I watched a hell of a game. This year...why did I go to law school again?

So Friday I come home and get a little something to eat and pull out the books. I got a whole weekend schedule. It doesn't make it through 10pm Friday night. Because by that time, I'm sleep. Not napping, SLEEP. I awake at 3am with a book on my chest and hoping haven't bent the frames on my glasses.

So Saturday I'm back at it, only kinda half assed. Laundry gets done, dishes get washed, clean this, dirty this back up, etc and so on. I realize I'm restless and need to get out and feel like I've done something to get my mind focused back into the books. And who should call but my RP. It's "Game Night" on the Saturday before the big game and I should swing through.

So I do actually study my Property for a while, then roll out. Ready for a little flirting and hanging out.

But I get there and it's not your standard "Game Night." this is "Game Night: Senior Edition".

My RP is hosting a transient card party for a buddy of his, and the average age is about 5-10 years older than I am. I say average because a couple of chicks look young, and one woman looks like she and mom could be sisters. But it's a lively bunch. We got old seventies tunes playing, six card games going and the usual foolishness and screaming that goes with that. (By screaming I mean the occasionally "You're cheating" or "Sot!" or whatever else you scream when you make your books on the last turn of the cards.)

But these folks did something my normal crowd usually doesn't. Nobody walked in empty handed. Folks brought wings, chicken, spinach dip, pizzas, more chicken, fettuccine, drinks and more. And what was even crazier, they left before everything was finished. My RP marveled at the fact he had a cooler full of beer and full twelve packs left over. Chicken and cake, chips and salsa, my half dozen 2 liter sodas all had to be put away.

With a younger crowd people would have hung out until the last drink was drank. Even if it took all night.

My RP is now considering getting new friends. Well not really new friends, but changing the rules of friends of friends...of friends dropping by.

It's bold new world. And I've spent the day back on Property. If I get through with Contracts in the next hour or so reading wise, I might even catch some of the game.

Barkeep...a little sweet tea. And one lemon wedge.

Oh the Holidays.

Family Post #2
Where would I be without my family? I don't really think about it, until I realize that a lot of people I know have lost a parent, or both and are literally doing what they have to do - not just financially, but emotionally. My peoples is getting on in years. It's why despite the idea that this traveling for the holidays is getting old, I still making the effort. I mean damn, it's family.

For the first time in a while, I had five consecutive days off. I don't take a whole lot of time off, because I'm afraid I'll forget to go back to work. But then it really wasn't a vacation like break for real or nothing, because it was the holiday and so of the five days off, I spent three with family.

God love family.

My Christmas present to myself was that I got to spend an hour hanging out with my Grandmother. I know it sounds corny, but so what. She's my grandmother and so you can be mad.

I didn't get back into town until Saturday night, driving in the fog and wondering why folks was driving so damn fast. Maybe they had to go to work on Sunday. When I got back I hooked up with Spanky for a hot minute and had dinner at the City Cafe on 10th street. She's just finished renovations on the house, and it looks good. Kinda like it should have when she moved in, but that's a story so long even I'm not long winded enough to tell it. Again. This soon. Right now she's on a pendulum between modern woman and "fell and bumped her head", another long story I'll have to figure out how to tell soon. I have such interesting friends.

Sunday was the now usual Fish Fry at my RP's house for the game. He's a little scared it's starting to get out of hand, when people he didn't tell are starting to call and ask what time to be there. He's trying to keep in small, 10-15 people but he's so well known - and folks always figure what's a few more people - that these things, as I said, get out of hand. I reminded him that the season is almost over, so just ride it out for now. Unless we turn around it's 65 folks at the door.

I was good for the first game. Carousing, making drinks, laughing. Atlanta won so the house was happy.

Then the Cowboys played. Sporty and I chatted on BBerry during the game, as I lamented my teams complete fucking sell, snatching defeat from the mouth of victory. Her team did get in, so that's good. On the bright side, if you can call it that, my football season is over so I can concentrate on Law School. So I got that going for me. Yeah right. And now for the SuperBowl party, I don't even really need to watch the game. Great!

Just a reminder, in a couple of days it's back to pure sobriety for a few months. Maybe four this year. My liver can't wait. And school too! Wow...

Then I stumbled back into work. Never should have taken that damn time off. This short little period has been the "oh, we do need to get this done before the 31st for tax reasons" in repeat form again and again and again. I so contemplated not going in today, but that little buster who is my backup already took off, so I was trapped. I swear, I'm gonna start buying lottery tickets regular at this rate.

Barkeep, something smooth.

One of them weekends...

Mental Rehab Post #43
There was a time when as a young man, I could hang out till 5am, go home shower and shave and turn it back on just like that until quitting time the next day - then crash. And sometimes I could do it two or three days in a row. But as I've gotten a little older, I may have to start taking vacations to recover from my time off. Or as a friend of mine said, "Man, after this weekend I need to get back to work so I can rest!" I need to get back into party shape. Where can you find a party trainer?

The problem with limited time off is that you try to squeeze everything into those few scants moments. In my case, three weeks off is not enough. Friday night I stayed home and enjoyed the private pleasure that only red kool-aid, sugar laced snacks and Grand Theft Auto can provide. Sometimes that shooting things - if only a video game - can be soooo soothing. When my excitement waned I would pause the game and read some of the novel I started before law school or watch a movie that I paid for two months ago when I thought I might have time to watch it or surf the web looking for stuff that was probably old now but I had missed in throes of education. The back to the game.

To put it bluntly, I nerded out. On a Friday night. In Atlanta. Seriously...what the fuck?

Yeah, trying to cram way too much in.

Saturday was the Come as You Are Cocktail Party. We have it pretty much every year, a drop-in with a drinks and food and people you know. This was early for us, usually we do it between Christmas and New Years, but the end of this year is so crowded. The function is an informal affair, and we usually get a nice small manageable crowd or around 100 or so.

The party went down at it "the Estate", which is how I'm going to refer to that particular venue. It's where we held the Halloween party and had people parking down the street. It's fairly big house on 12 acres with requisite pool and jacuzzi, wine cellar, playroom and wet bar. We're thinking of having the SuperBowl function there. It's nice.

In any case, we cooked up some pasta - veggie and regular, boiled some crab legs, fried some shrimp, broiled some fresh lobster tails, and warmed up some pizza rolls. Hey, we happen to like pizza rolls. They're really good, especially the sausage and pepperoni. Then we turned on the Cowboys - Ravens game and opened the doors.

I miss nights like that. It was unseasonably warm, chicks had the arms out, short skirts were worn. I met a chick with January tattooed on her back (Okay her last name was January, but it still sounded hardcore at first, didn't it?) and ran into a few people's I hadn't seen in a minute. Serve and I will have to work on some memory mnemonics for her, as she could not remember the names of people she hung out with regularly just two years ago. Even my junior drinking partner showed up for the first time in a year, told me she was into S&M cause she thought my spiked wristband was hot and just like the first night I met her, I made her breakfast at 4:00am from what was left in the kitchen - a spicy scrambled egg hash with sausage and shrimp sprinkled with a Spanish rice. If she hangs around long enough this time, she might even qualify for a nickname. Even my "Hoodlum Friends" turned up, which is misnomer for a group of girls who really are cool as hell.

The party lasted until late, because unlike other parties where we close the bar to speed up the end, I in error left that racket open till 2:30am. I ended up paying for breakfast for "security" - two chicks who sat at the bar all night and had a ball harassing people and actually paid my impromptu bar back. As such by the time I got loose, after clean up and excess liquor putaway, the party was effectively over. I finally pulled up stakes at around 4:30am. And I should have stopped for breakfast because...

...Sunday might have been the laziest day in recorded human history. I awoke sometime after 1pm. I was asleep by 9:30pm. I took a nap somewhere in the middle. I might have forgotten to eat. During that time I was supposed to do some laundry, do the dishes, go out and do the little bit of Christmas shopping I was going to do, go and see a folk or two and in the end I did just about nothing. I did wash the dishes. But I didn't leave the house, or do that stuff in the yard, or take out the garbage or anything. I almost didn't get out of bed. Schmoopy is gonna be so mad at me.

In two weeks that will not be possible. The grind will be back on. Law School Part 2 promises to be no joke. And I stop drinking too? Noooooooooooooo!

Barkeep. Two shots of Patrone with a Henie on the float.

The Last Weekend Roundup

Mental Rehab Post #35
Sometimes in the course of living, we live just a little too hard. And then comes a reckoning, and then shortly thereafter, nachos. Or is it pie? In either case, as I've told many a folk, most of things that happen to me are my fault. I either didn't plan for the eventuality, didn't prepare going in, or whatever, but usually...it's my fault. So read this and when I'm complaining in a few weeks, you'll know why. To wit, my weekend...

So...one of my profs plucks my name from the ether to give a presentation last Tuesday. I mean I talk a lot in class to avoid moments like this, what gives?

I have my normal complement of reading and the case briefings.

.... two papers due, one reconstruction and the other from scratch.

... a mock final on Saturday that's gonna snatch three hours.

....and I need to start getting together my outlines and other study methods so I can master these finals in a month.

And then as it turns out I'm hosting the Halloween Party on Friday night (Silly me!), folks from out of town are dropping through, my website is in dire need of an update, I'm losing at BabyCal throw, my house is approaching pigsty status, I need to wash clothes, the loss in hours at work due to school means me es a broke, I'm starting to come down with something and I think my blood pressure medicine is not working right anymore.

So Friday night is party night, as my RP calls twice to see if I'm on the way. I had halfway figured this, so I was ready.. studied for the mock final Wednesday and Thursday, and since it was open book and notes I figured I would be straight. Home by 1am, up by 8 and at the test at 10am. Great plan.

The party is a flashback to how we used to do it. The women are frisky, fine and most are in costume. And the dudes show up empty handed. And ask for the top shelf liquor. The naughty nun doesn't give me a second look, the Serena Williams thinks I'm cute but crazy, miss sailor wants me stop serving drinks so we can get cozy, the dominatrices don't show up until midnight and foolishness is in the air. It was an good night. I need to have more of those.

The one picture I can show you...

So Saturday morning I'm up, and ready and you got to be tripping. The mock was a waste of time. Only four people show up to take it. The 2Ls and 3Ls are not happy. We 1Ls are not appreciative, apparently. Or serious.

So I go home Saturday and nap. And do my contracts reading. And sleep. And play BabyCal Throw. I'm sore from the night before, so I don't clean up and by the time the evening rolls around, I just make some chili dogs and make me some fresh cut fries (one potato - one knife. the basics), crawl into the couch and pass out. Man that's a nice couch.

Special note - Not everyone has an unlimited text plan. My people from out of town are in town, and end up canvasing for Obama (I find out via text) and then get tickets to the Hawks game (I find out via texts) and then run late (texts) and so we don't do dinner (texts) then after the game end up at Barley's in Midtown (texts) then the next day want to go a mall (text) and then are running late again (texts) and stop at the corner so they don't get to the restaurant early (text) and etc ....

So I get up, don't clean the house...again... and go down to eat on Camp Creek with my internet buddies. Who are fun people and have fallen into the trap that is Atlanta - Come for a weekend and you'll want to move here. And since they had the primo tour I can see why.

After eats I run by and catch my tutoring session, which as usual is more informative than the class in most respects. Then after the session my fellow presenters get together and gnash over the fact pattern for our "presentation". THIS fact pattern was described by our prof as a "finals" type question.

For dinner I've planned a thick steak, baked potato and fresh bed, gravy and onions...I have three bowls of Rice Krispies. Great plan.

And then bam! Suddenly I'm sniffling and sneezing! Bad sneezing. What gives?

Barkeep. Whiskey with a Thera-flu back.

A Weekend Out

Personal Rehab Post #5
I'm starting to not like quiet times, for in those quiet moments I start to ask that question that will probably plague me for the rest of my life: "Why wasn't I good enough?" It's one of those things that will pick at the back of mind quite possibly until it drives me mad.

This post is about my first major rehab outing. It's a little lengthy.

Well I'd spent a few weeks in relative seclusion, eschewing outings and get togethers and generally trying to pull together a semblance of cool before venturing back out into the wilds of social Atlanta. It's been a long strange trip and since I've apparently got to get back on the trail I started with an annual event: my RP's birthday party.

RP is short for Running Partner, which in the parlance of area is people I run around with. In your area, it may phrased as your hang out buddies, your chums, them folks you know, or friends. I ran into him when I moved to Atlanta and we just got along, so it's like that.

The birthday party is an annual event consisting of fine mix of ...er...well, it's a social gathering that...er...um... it's a huge party with about as close to a Circus atmosphere that you can get to before people get naked. One year we shut down his subdivision throwing it. I mean it's huge. Rough estimates put the usual crowd at 200-250 people, and this is for a house party. At a single house. My RP know a lotta folk.

Enough background, in food prep my RP said he would be doing everything the night before. Because sitting around all day Saturday waiting is less than a desirable activity, I volunteered to cook everything that morning. I happen to like grilling and so I offered to spen Saturday morning burning a little something. I bought the supplies, marinated the meat overnight, got my extras and showed at Event Site Zero at 9am. I've been having trouble sleeping lately so this was an accomplishment.

I cleaned the grill. Which apparently had never been cleaned.


I watched them clean the pool.



I keep saying we threw the party because only two days seperates my birthday and RPs, so usually it's a birthday party for us both even though I recognize I'm the undercard. Second billing at your own birthday party you say? How awful? It's a matter of opinion I guess. Wait, wasn't my birthday last month you ask. Well, yes it was, but this is the first free weekend we've been able to schedule, and since we've had it up to two weeks in advance, a little later isn't the worst thing we could have done. In the parlance of our situation, RP is strategic, I'm the tactical.

So I cooked. I cooked the chicken, I cooked the chicken...the hotdogs, the wings, the ribs. From roughly 10am to 4pm I worked a little outside cooking magic. Almost burned my hand a few times, didn't have all my usual grilling tools (used a kitchen fork and one spatula), wings didn't want to cook right taking for freaking ever, damn coals died down before I was all the way done. Man, it was great to get back out there again.

Handy tip: When grilling the bird - get the chicken fingers or tenders. They cook up so fast and easy it's scary.


So I got there early and cooked all day. Then I went home and showered and headed back out because I was also tending bar, which is another of my fine talents. Yes, I was gonna work at this joint to. There is a method to my madness, a trade secret or two that I won't go into but let's just say it works very well for me.

With your normal crowd of 200 I'm in good stead. I mix up Apple martini's and Cosmopolitans, keep the beer in a side tub so it's serve yourself, create fruity little mixtures that put a smile on the pretty girl's faces and get a chance to chat while I'm serving. If we start at around 7pm, I'll generally get a crowd, then a lull, then a second crowd, another lull and so on until I'll shut the drinks down around 1am. At which point it's down to the folks who actually came to party and not just spectate, which is a pretty fun crowd. And whereas the bar might be closed to speed people in the mindset of leaving eventually, folks we know can always "find" a drink. So we've got a plan.

So I start setting out the drinks. People who ain't seen me in a minute tell me I'm looking good, lost weight and all that. A few of my female friends give me a hug and we joke a bit. My mind isn't on other things.

And setting out the drinks. A few women I hadn't seen in a long while invite me to their party next week, another girl tells me about another party she wants me to go to, I'm steady pouring the drinks and talking, even doing some flirting on automatic. Getting the old mojo back to working, ya know?

And setting out the drinks. And setting out drinks. Wait a second, what the? Where is that lull I was counting on? Now we'd thrown the party at Event Site Zero because it's a large house on 12 acres (plenty of parking), it has a pool and a jacuzzi, game room downstairs, and the owner is cool. 12 acres sounds like a lot, hmmm? We ran out of parking. RP's current head count of the crowd is somewhere near 400. Or 600. He's lost track. People at the bar are telling me they parked at the Fire Station, which is a good half to three quarters of a mile away from the front gate (never mind the additional walk from the street) and I have two assistants helping me serve. Your selections have boiled down to: "Light or dark, which one do you want?" It's getting crazy.

Faces blurred cause I don't where they claimed to be.

When I was younger, we would throw a party and before too long we'd run out of liquor. We were broke and trying to have a good time. Now as adults we have a party and before too long we run out of chaser. Very few still have the cojones to bring just a bottle or two of juice. I try to anticipate this, but my expectation was considerably fewer people. So at one point have a single bottle of cranberry juice my co-bartenders and I are passing back and forth between the three of us. Madness.

As I said, normally one would shut the bar down around 1am. I had somebody go find RP and I told him we were shutting it down at 11:30. At least we never ran out of ice. The bartending gig went from fun aside to a South Geogia version of the Bataan Death March only with liquor and girls in bikinis in a mere matter of hours. Okay maybe not that bad because we did have some cuties. But I'm sweating like I'm in a sauna and praying that we run out of cups.

After that I guess the party started getting good: I hyped up the impromptu swim meet. Spent a hot moment in the hot tub (okay, I got in and the women didn't get out - and the water was hot. Technicality). Walked around in my footie socks and told people it wasn't my house for no reason at all (women kept offering to help me find my shoes). And at 2am I somehow got into an oblique discussion with a very defensive vegan republican with a me complex.

Okay, it wasn't all good.

Not sure if I'm up to an event where I don't have something else to focus on though. Truth be told that's pretty much what made this work. A whole night of concentration of other things. Without the distractions, well...I'm not sure.

All this for that hollow feeling at the end of the night. But then I'm working on the outside. Inside ain't gonna be right for a while.

Barkeep. Water. Yeah, I'm getting back but it's a step by step process.

When it's time to leave....running.

I went to a bachelor party the other night. I find that idea interesting, because NOBODY I KNOW is getting married. So I showed up late and tried to duck into the back. It's an odd habit of mine.

I don't really like adult "entertainment" that much. The idea of being viewed like a human ATM - they just have to figure which of my buttons to press to make the money come out - lost it's appeal years and years ago. I used to help hold down the wheel of a little shake joint and I guess after a while of four nights a week I kinda burnt out on the whole thing. So although I live in Atlanta which has more little spots like this than you would believe, I'm not a fan.

But I do know this. The kind of dancer who would choose a private party over a club is someone who would be, and I'm trying to put this delicately, would be a less than superstar contestant. A few points less than a ten, ya know. But the party is around the corner and I was bored, so what the hey.

And wouldn't you know it, I was right.

So I spend most of the function in the kitchen, away from the main event. It's a "New Skool" bachelor party, as there are women as well as men enjoying the "entertainment." The music is whatever plays next on the CD player and the living room which probably looks huge with five people in it was shoulder to shoulder to dancer. It's a typical low key affair that just chugs along as everybody has a good time. But as long as everybody has a good time, it's all gravy.

Now another interesting feature is that the host thoughtfully installed is a pole. Which is really interesting because none of the dancers can well, to a woman none of them is ...er, of the right size...to make best use of the item. It just kinda stands there. But pole was finally why I knew it was time to leave.

So as the function wound down, the entertainment is ...lounging...and somehow without me really paying attention the after party becomes Pole Dancing 101 - for beginners. A few of the dancers have to be "helped" into position before they're attempts at acrobatic tricks fail. It becomes a comedy moment. Then a few of the remaining female patrons decide to give it a try... but are no better. I think I just jingled my keys in pocket, an absent minded gesture that was perhaps fate's way of saying "and that's your cue."

So this GUY grabs the pole...yes, a man. He swings his body around and does a pole slide. Seriously.

The women laughed themselves into hysterics, the "entertainment" applauded and I found the exit so fast you would have thought I'd discovered teleportation. Not my kinda party. No sir. No siree Bob. I thanked the host, who in typical fashion was at the in-the-street talking about nothing for twenty to forty more minutes afterset that happens at every house party.

But that which as been seen cannot be unseen.

Barkeep...you got any eye bleach?

Bracketology 101 - the first weekend.

Okay, last year I said it...I didn't like Duke. Coach K and and boys wear their confidence like a smug sport jacket, in Duke blue no less, and that along with the unbridled smugness of their fans make watching them go out all the more sweet. I'm almost certain most of the country, no, most of the basketball playing world, feels that same way.

Unless you picked them into the Sweet 16.

Okay, first they get worn out by Belmont, who showed up like a team who didn't read the program and thought they were playing the West Washington High Blue Devils. Duke is supposed to be stocked, and I mean stocked with McDonald's (argh!) All-Americans and they got run up and down the court. But I wasn't worried. This was a first round scare, they get their legs back, talk it over and Coach K will have them back in form on Sunday. Then they played West Virginia...who played them like the West Washington High Blue Devils Junior Squad. One has to believe that whoever ranks these teams sleeps in Duke PJs with footies. And there they go...again.

Then low and behold, out of nowhere Davidson beats Georgetown. Who saw this coming? Each year the ESPN tourney brackets boasts some fool who accidentally picked what happens to 99% accuracy or better. I have a bracket there (which has got to be the hardest damn thing to find on the screen, I mean jeez!) and let me tell you, I'm not even close. Not even. Who picks two 12 seeds, a 10 seeds and 7? Who? Come on! Not even someone who had chosen the winners based on how they might have liked the unis wouldn't have come up with this combination.

At least Kansas, UCLA and Tennessee are still hanging on, the last one by it's teeth. When did college basketball get parity? So I got a wobbly bracket, but no busts.

While all this was going on Easter happened. Normally, I spend that gift-less holiday with family - my brother - but this year I got a call from Shade who'd popped into town (outta nowhere) and kicked off a round robin of events that started with me explaining to her the pretty mirror theory and ended up us playing Midwest rules double chicken Uno somewhere off Cascade. Suffice it to say that meant I was unable to focus on the games.

Oh well, more there is to life say but me and God.

Barkeep...Sparkling Grape Juice with a slice of Orange.

Both sides of the street?

So this weekend, after the city of Atlanta was stopped by an overwhelming TWO inches of snow, I bundled up and rode out to a Fight party.

There's nothing quite like a good fight party. Usually peopled by people who aren't really there to see a fight, but who came for a party, it gives a function substance, a focal point if you will. Usually fight party goers are a little rowdier, a little more vocal, a little more raucous as the fight excitement permeates the crowd. It's a group focal point for an event, a kind of a theme, and not that single focal point, which is usually the chick with that nice butt in them really tight pants. It makes a party a little bit more than an excuse to get drunk and hit on drunker women. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Nothing.

So I show up and it's surprisingly full. The got big screens and flat screens all over, plenty of food, liquor looks plentiful, the women look friendly and all that's missing from the basement is a pole. I'm almost disappointed when the fight starts.

So as we watch Roy Jones play with Trinidad - beating his own stomach, poking out is chin, doing the Harlem Shake between rounds - the cops show up. In like round six.

Now this is a grown folks party. No weed. Everybody still got their clothes on. It's all cool.

Or rather it's not. Cause what has happened is some folks parked on the wrong side of the street.

Party Rule No. 6 - Parking - When partying at a home in a subdivision, one must take care that all invitees park on the same side of the street, as to not impede possible emergency traffic. Failure to follow this rule may result in local law enforcement ending the party prior to your planned time.

(As side note, I once had a party go so well, that 4am I called the cops on myself to get them folks out the house)

During the fight they start announcing that if you parked on the that side of the street, you need to move your car. For the number of folks there, that would be a whole lot of cars. Now, as we didn't all disgorge from the house like ants, a few rounds later the police decide that now...they want both sides of the street in the subdivision clear. Both sides?

I realize a rule or two was broken, but is that grounds to break up a peaceful gathering? Did I just get the new millennium equivalent of the fire hose? What just happened here?

Realizing that it would take the tow trucks time to arrive on scene, I watched until they read the decision, then broke camp. In the future, I'll be reviewing the rules and regulations regarding subdivision parking for wherever the hell I party.

Barkeep, make that a double shot of espresso. I need something strong.

A Drink Sabbatical

Every year for the past few years, on January 1st I stop drinking for a while. A while being a varying period of time usually lasting from January to April or May. This is not like a drinker's normally stopping drinking, i.e, I stopped drinking for the night when I switched from hard liquor to beer, cause beer is like soda, no, this is a complete stoppage of the imbibing of all fermented, aged, distilled and or mixed together in a bucket beverages until such time as it's spring. And oddly my nickname is Bartender. Go figure.

A few years ago I had an accident on New Years Day, around 2am. I woke up January 1 in the hospital. I woke up January 2nd in the Intensive Care Unit. My understanding is that I just missed dying. Just.

Shade (a new addition to dis blog) drove two hours and snuck into the hospital to visit me. She drove two hours, stayed I guess and hour and then drove two hours back. But that's a whole different story.

You might think this prompted my getting out, doing more, but in reality it made me think harder about slowing down a bit, about taking the time to stop gallivanting in the streets and see what else was out there. I was already out and about five nights a week, jeez! Maybe this is all a dream and I'm still lying in that bed in ICU. And if that's the case I need a pillow.

Not tipping for four or five months is probably as close to empty as I can get, but I'll usually have one drink during my dry months at some point, but only one...usually at the behest of a beautiful woman. Sporty and I went to La Grotta during this period once, so we split a bottle of wine. At a party this chick I had always liked in brought her own ingredients to make me a pomegranate martini, so I had one. But other than that, no beer, no wine, no drink of any kind. Not even rum cake.

You would not believe the difference a drink makes.

Sometimes it's psychological. One drink hardly has any effect at all, but the idea of one drink is powerful. At a party or social event I feel more comfortable with a drink in my hand, sometimes even if the glass has been empty for a hour. It makes me more social, more talkative. It's like a license to be a little off.

Sometimes alcohol really does make you ten feet tall and bulletproof. It's why I got a phone number or two, I can't lie. It's why I've walked into a party house at I'd never been to like I owned it, not knowing a soul, and meeting some fantastic folks. I mean, they didn't throw me out, how bad could they be?

And I'm more observant stone sober, less forgiving. I'm more apt to leave a boring function early, whereas a drink or two might have encouraged me to wait it out (and some of the most interesting things happen after a good wait).

One of my partners just celebrated 2 years off the sauce, not that he had a problem, he just decided to quit. I'm not sure if I could ever do that. Everything in moderation, including moderation. Usually he and I hang out a lot more during this time.

So how long this time? Don't know. So how many more times? Don't know that either. But it's all gravy baby...and I got the gig.

Barkeep, red koolaid. What do you mean Cherry or Tropical Punch? I said RED koolaid!

Saturday night throwback

A few years ago, gas was about a 1.50 a gallon, my insurance was $800 a year, and had no car payment. And I kicked it five nights out of six. Justin's, Chaos, Havana Club, Velvet Room, Martini Bar, Kaya, 112, the list just goes on and on.

But on Saturdays we caravaned. We load up three or four cars and hit three or four house parties, sometimes more. We would show up and sometimes getting the party started. Other times when we left we'd have six cars trailing taking the party with us. Well Saturday I did something I had done in a while, we hit three on the parley.

This Saturday we started on the southside, in 1) Ellenwood GA, a suburb of the ATL. A little birthday set for a young lady we hang out with from time to time.

It was ugly. They had maybe eight girls there, though if you divyed them up into normal sized girls you might have gotten twenty five. So we dipped. E walked back out with the twelve pack he brought in.

Then we drove up to 2) Woodstock GA. Check a map, that's about forty five minutes to an hour away. Better function, more normal sized women folk, crowd looked a little less buffett and internet intensive. We hung around for a while, hollered a couple and tried to figure out why the guy in the suit jacket and sweatervest would normally hang out.

So we leave it's around one, and in the car my boy gets a call and it's back to 3) Stone Mountain. Check the map, that's another half hour. We get there it must be around two or so but the party is still working. And it's got the largest selection of good looking women all day. We finally get outta there around three thirty and back to the crib and it's nearly four.

Been long time. I wonder how the young folks do.

Barkeep - Some Pinch and branch water.

Atlanta - PreNYE

Well, as the new year approaches I find myself in the middle of a three day parley - Friday, Saturday - Sunday. It would have been a four day swing, but I opted not to go to Leopard Lounge (Midtown) on Thursday night so I could rest up.

And I should have gone. A young lady I met Saturday told me she as at the Leopard on Thursday with a skirt on so short she had to take care to walk, bending wasn't even an option. It's funny, Atlanta Magazine wrote up the Thursday night and now the odd white couple will wander in and look confused. When I took Bait that time, even on a slow night his fresh from North Carolina ass was impressed as hell.

But I digress. Friday was at the Verve Lounge (Downtown-ish) for it's Casino themed Pre-NYE party. The room was so excited you might have imagined it was real money they were playing for. I left there and slipped out to a private function at Carbo's Cafe (Buckhead). A slightly older crowd, but free food and live music...and for the third year in a row Vernon Jones shook my hand and wished me a happy new year. These occasions are the only time I ever meet the man. I was supposed to head over to the new Esso (Decatur) after that but begged off.

Saturday was nice and simple, hung out with Sporty (all the women in my life now have nicknames starting with S - no reason) early and rolled into the Annual Pre-NYE Cocktail party I host every year. Very nice crowd this year, although when the guys with dreads smelling like weed and looking like sterotypical rappers started wandering in, I knew we'd gone long. Usually we "run out of cups" or "run out of alcohol" around one or so, and that way we can clean up and be done by three. This year we didn't close the bar until two thirty.

Nice tips though.

And tonight, if my old business partner ever shows up we're supposed to hit PURE NYE or if I can swing it a private little set down on the southside. Mansion party. Sweet.

Barkeep - Patrone, but with a lemon. I'm driving.

I used to be on the edge.

Let's see, in the last ten days I was invited to BED for cocktails and magazine launch (didn't go & I don't remember the magazine either), to a mansion party for William McCray's new TV show, Obnoxious (didn't go, forgot), a "soft" promotion for a club re-opening (it was slow), a hot Christmas party ( that Ruffin fella throws a party ), a private Christmas party on Saturday, the usual slew of club dates - Thursday at Django, Old School Saturdays, Red Tie at Einsteins, Barley's billiards live music or Friday, M Bar on Wednesdays, Urban Soul Cafe ...and countless NYE parties.

There was a time I would have hit nearly every thing listed here...okay, I might have missed one of the NYE parties.

I wish I could pass along the words of wisdom, but my new junior running partner, aptly nicknamed "Bait" is getting me back out there. I'm getting older and chasing them around the club has never been my thing, I need to draw them in to the sparkling personality. He's new to the ATL and seems to be stunned at how much is going on and where the truly live stuff is...for free.

As a side note, I usually don't pay for anything. Most nights in Atlanta, somebody somewhere is giving away the farm for free to put the word out, and since I'm hooked into the word I usually know about it. It's a vicious circle - you kinda have to be out to be able to get invited, but since they're only inviting folks who come out, they're really only moving the circle around. I'm used to a) complementary valet b) no cover - guest list c) free drinks d) free food e) hot,loose women and d) a complimentary gift bag for coming through.

Don't you wish you knew.

I think I'm ATL nightlife spoiled. Every party is hot or I know where the next one is. Or I've seen these chicks before, let's roll out. I've gotten to the age where all the phone numbers I didn't call back, women I ignored or whose name I forgot is starting to catch up with me. Atlanta is big but not that big.

I'm starting to see that familar edge in the distance...do I really want to go back?