If you go out in Atlanta, you generally want to go the hot spot. The spot where everyone is or wants to be. The place where everybody wants to see and be seen. Where there is a line of folks waiting to be part of the IN crowd.
I generally have been there and am gone long before that.
I did Fridays at the W for Jazz before you couldn't breathe up in the spot.
I did Twist before they started charging.
I did Compound when the original promoters made Friday's hot.
Old School Saturdays? Back when they could have it in a restaurant.
Leopard Lounge? First time I went they had twenty folks.
Verve? They hadn't even finished construction.
Strip? Back when you could move.
Barleys? Before they put the band in on Fridays..
The Mark? Two club names ago...
Don't get me wrong some of my haunts never made it, some stayed on the low, others are still threating to blow up.
Why is that? Why do I get there like the advance scout team? I want to say it's because I'm always on the cutting edge, looking for the next great hangout or spot, ahead of the curve in style and fashion. But...
...that's not true.
I guess I'm just adventurous. I've been to Atlanta's Latin Clubs, Rock Clubs, Swing Clubs (the sex swinging), the Blues Clubs, and I guess I've just gotten lucky. I tend to like a spot before it gets crazy. Or rather before people show up expecting it be crazy, which is a whole different group from the people who come to have a good time and crazy things happen.
It's tough to explain.
Which spot is next? I couldn't tell you.
Barkeep, I'll need the Knob Creek, with just a dash of spite. Don't bruise it.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
A short sermon
Basketball great Dennis Johnson died the other day, and I suddenly miss pro basketball.
There was a time in the mid-eighties when basketball season actually meant something. You had Magic and Kareem running the Showtime Lakers out West, and the in the East the battle for supremacy meant that whoever got the Finals had already run the gauntlet to get there.
Bird, Parrish and the Celtics.
Dr. J and Seventysixers.
Isiah and Pistons.
Those were playoffs you watched like March Madness, roaming the day after a game with oft repeated "Did you sees?" at the physical artistry that was a pro basketball game. The Sky Hook. The Finger Roll. The wild momentum shifts and the last second heroics better than anything on the movie screen.
Then came Jordan.
Some consider Jordan the greatest basketball player of all time. I'm not one of their ranks. Much like the old "Evander Holyfield-Charlie Steiner" commerical from ESPN...I not sure I would put him in the best 50 basketball players. Of all time, you ask? In the Eastern Divison.
To me Jordan, who seems like an affable fellow mind you, represents what went wrong with pro basketball. Before Jordan there were stars, but those stars were attached to teams. After Jordan there were only players.
Players obsessed with shoe contracts.
Prima donnas who swear they're the best thing for basketball.
Ball hogs who don't even remember the fundamentals.
Players with more going on off the court than on.
Players who won't be remembered for their game.
Dennis Johnson was from another era of basketball. Back when you rooted for the team, for pride. When the team meant more than a place for the player to collect his paycheck. Dennis Johnson, who was for a long time THE Ugliest Man in Basketball, played on a real team, not a supporting cast for this year's basketball prodigy. Teams that ran plays, had well coached people contributing off the bench, and in many cases at the final buzzer you couldn't concentrate on keeping it out of one players hands....cause all of them were liable to toss it up.
DJ. We'll miss you.
Barkeep...just some vodka and ice.
There was a time in the mid-eighties when basketball season actually meant something. You had Magic and Kareem running the Showtime Lakers out West, and the in the East the battle for supremacy meant that whoever got the Finals had already run the gauntlet to get there.
Bird, Parrish and the Celtics.
Dr. J and Seventysixers.
Isiah and Pistons.
Those were playoffs you watched like March Madness, roaming the day after a game with oft repeated "Did you sees?" at the physical artistry that was a pro basketball game. The Sky Hook. The Finger Roll. The wild momentum shifts and the last second heroics better than anything on the movie screen.
Then came Jordan.
Some consider Jordan the greatest basketball player of all time. I'm not one of their ranks. Much like the old "Evander Holyfield-Charlie Steiner" commerical from ESPN...I not sure I would put him in the best 50 basketball players. Of all time, you ask? In the Eastern Divison.
To me Jordan, who seems like an affable fellow mind you, represents what went wrong with pro basketball. Before Jordan there were stars, but those stars were attached to teams. After Jordan there were only players.
Players obsessed with shoe contracts.
Prima donnas who swear they're the best thing for basketball.
Ball hogs who don't even remember the fundamentals.
Players with more going on off the court than on.
Players who won't be remembered for their game.
Dennis Johnson was from another era of basketball. Back when you rooted for the team, for pride. When the team meant more than a place for the player to collect his paycheck. Dennis Johnson, who was for a long time THE Ugliest Man in Basketball, played on a real team, not a supporting cast for this year's basketball prodigy. Teams that ran plays, had well coached people contributing off the bench, and in many cases at the final buzzer you couldn't concentrate on keeping it out of one players hands....cause all of them were liable to toss it up.
DJ. We'll miss you.
Barkeep...just some vodka and ice.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Me and the City of Atlanta
Okay, for the last few weeks I've been looking for a house, so that I can "get out of the trap of rent and start earning some equity"...or whatever.
So I find a spot I like, it's roomy, the price is right and it's right on time. I get the appraisal back for more than I'm paying, the inspection only spots minor stuff and the neighborhood has about ten or twelve new houses in the area, so values should be holding steady.
I'm laying out the floorplan, how I'll convert this bedroom into the library/bar, this is the guest room and this other my office, how I'm gonna arrange furniture and picking paints. I've figured out the new route to work and my new grocery store. I'm getting estimates on the minor repairs, appliance shopping and checking out lighting and I'm climbing the walls to get out my spot an into this spot that is just has potential out the ying yang. (By the way...a copy of Metropolitan Home is like Old Man porn).
Then the city of Atlanta smacks in the face. Just goes to town on a brother. *whap whap*
The taxes we got at the beginning weren't the real taxes. The taxes don't double, they almost triple in the week of closing. And I balked.
At one point my mortage broker is yelling at me through the phone, like I'm not about to come out of pocket in a major way for her benefit....but that's a whole other story.
I told the finance person that I had no intention of living in this spot and eating tuna fish five nights a week to make ends meet. I know a few folks that have gone that way and I know they're miserable. For some reason they thought I could afford it, and I'm thinking second and maybe third job to make it work...and then what's the point of having the house?
I was supposed to close on the 8th...I'm out looking at more houses now.
This is some bullshit.
Bartender, some of that boot you keep under the counter. In a dirty glass.
So I find a spot I like, it's roomy, the price is right and it's right on time. I get the appraisal back for more than I'm paying, the inspection only spots minor stuff and the neighborhood has about ten or twelve new houses in the area, so values should be holding steady.
I'm laying out the floorplan, how I'll convert this bedroom into the library/bar, this is the guest room and this other my office, how I'm gonna arrange furniture and picking paints. I've figured out the new route to work and my new grocery store. I'm getting estimates on the minor repairs, appliance shopping and checking out lighting and I'm climbing the walls to get out my spot an into this spot that is just has potential out the ying yang. (By the way...a copy of Metropolitan Home is like Old Man porn).
Then the city of Atlanta smacks in the face. Just goes to town on a brother. *whap whap*
The taxes we got at the beginning weren't the real taxes. The taxes don't double, they almost triple in the week of closing. And I balked.
At one point my mortage broker is yelling at me through the phone, like I'm not about to come out of pocket in a major way for her benefit....but that's a whole other story.
I told the finance person that I had no intention of living in this spot and eating tuna fish five nights a week to make ends meet. I know a few folks that have gone that way and I know they're miserable. For some reason they thought I could afford it, and I'm thinking second and maybe third job to make it work...and then what's the point of having the house?
I was supposed to close on the 8th...I'm out looking at more houses now.
This is some bullshit.
Bartender, some of that boot you keep under the counter. In a dirty glass.
Monday, January 22, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
The House
I just stole about $80,000. Okay maybe $40,000, or $10,000... but I damn sure stole something.
After looking off and on since last July, I found a spot. They accepted my bid on the house, which is four bedroom two full bath and slightly narrow but deep lot. I'm paying what they asked and they're picking up closing. It's not a bad deal, area in transistion, house needs some cosmetic, yadda yadda yadda.
But I did my homework.
For those from other locales, in Atlanta you can look up the tax records on line ...and they include a lot of other information that the realtors don't want you to see. Which is good because the real estate market in Atlanta is the wild wild west. The online records give stuff like the square footage - which they don't give in GA, and the lot dimensions - which aren't advertised, or construction info - you need this more than you know, or the FORMER APPRAISED VALUE... and just for kicks, how much the last person paid for it.
The house I just got, somebody paid 200K for last year, went into forclosure and I scooped it for just over half that.
Somebody somewhere is about to get fired over this one. I'm not sure if the previous deal was a flip, or appraiser was jacked up on something last time or what. But the former lender got dicked, and now I'm moving in.
All I know is for less than $2,000 out of pocket in clean up, I'll have a pretty nice piece of property.
Barkeep - The good stuff. The Knob Creek. Just ice.
After looking off and on since last July, I found a spot. They accepted my bid on the house, which is four bedroom two full bath and slightly narrow but deep lot. I'm paying what they asked and they're picking up closing. It's not a bad deal, area in transistion, house needs some cosmetic, yadda yadda yadda.
But I did my homework.
For those from other locales, in Atlanta you can look up the tax records on line ...and they include a lot of other information that the realtors don't want you to see. Which is good because the real estate market in Atlanta is the wild wild west. The online records give stuff like the square footage - which they don't give in GA, and the lot dimensions - which aren't advertised, or construction info - you need this more than you know, or the FORMER APPRAISED VALUE... and just for kicks, how much the last person paid for it.
The house I just got, somebody paid 200K for last year, went into forclosure and I scooped it for just over half that.
Somebody somewhere is about to get fired over this one. I'm not sure if the previous deal was a flip, or appraiser was jacked up on something last time or what. But the former lender got dicked, and now I'm moving in.
All I know is for less than $2,000 out of pocket in clean up, I'll have a pretty nice piece of property.
Barkeep - The good stuff. The Knob Creek. Just ice.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Condi as president?
"Dr. Rice, who I think would be a really good candidate [for President], is not interested. Probably because she is single, her parents are no longer living, she's an only child. You need a very supportive family and supportive friends to have this job."
--the words purportedly of Laura Bush, the First Lady.
Well damn. The president's wife just said a single woman can't be president. Now I'm a man of the first water, and for a minute I honestly believed that the next presidental knockdown was going to be a catfight between the Republican throwaway candidate Condi Rice, and the Democratic Bully one Mrs. Hillary Clinton.
My warped logic: After the debacle that was the midterms and the continuing issue with Iraq, the Republicans ever the forward thinkers would see that this election was lost and offer up for posterity and to unshackle the miniority base of the Dems the first serious Black Female Candidate for the presidency. No, I am not Karl Rove's assistant floating one out there. Hillary on the other hand would ninja her way into the nomination, through that process known politicking (note spelling).
I don't follow politics like sports, but I do dabble enough to know a kick in the teeth when I see one. Laura may have some insight the rest of don't have, but then I think I can draw an ugly enough bead on it.
Condi is not married, and apparently isn't dating anyone though I do understand she once mistakenly referred to the president as "my husband." No, I'm not going to source that. So my question, as crudely as I can put it...where is she getting dick? I have no issue with a wholly active woman, but if she ain't sleeping with somebody, somewhere, then we got a problem.
Did I just say I wouldn't elect Condi cause she's "reserved"? Yes. Yes, I did.
With the media today you would think there would be a hint of who's tapping that. Oprah has Steadman (um..right...), Beyonce has Jay-Z, Halle Berry was seeing some italian dude last time I checked, and the 2nd most powerful woman in the free world is with who? Is there even a hint of somebody? Does one of her security detail look like a maybe? Something.
And if she could swear off sex for ...let's see it'll be eight, then four..twelve years, I'm not too comfortable with her as a person. Even if her sex drive is low, damn that's a long time. Or worse yet, nobody ever tapped it right so she doesn't get it. Woe be the country.
Would the country be better run by a sex fiend? Yes. *cough* billclinton *cough*
Think about it, did you ever notice how in a candidates commercial they always show his/her family? Wonder where those kids came from? That's right, the candidate is subliminally annoucing that if their getting their freak on, their doing it at home. That me and the signifigant other get it on just like you. (Okay, they're usually lying about the home part). And this presents a problem for Condi in the values section, as she is unable to demonstrate on a fundamental level her sharing of the core values.
I'm not even a professional and I can come up with a halfway decent plan that wouldn't look too dirty the make Condi unelectable in about four or five good hours.
Maybe I'm just ranting and raving for nothing, although I just can't see middle America voting for someone named Obama unless between now and the election something changes.
Barkeep - Old crow with a beer back.
--the words purportedly of Laura Bush, the First Lady.
Well damn. The president's wife just said a single woman can't be president. Now I'm a man of the first water, and for a minute I honestly believed that the next presidental knockdown was going to be a catfight between the Republican throwaway candidate Condi Rice, and the Democratic Bully one Mrs. Hillary Clinton.
My warped logic: After the debacle that was the midterms and the continuing issue with Iraq, the Republicans ever the forward thinkers would see that this election was lost and offer up for posterity and to unshackle the miniority base of the Dems the first serious Black Female Candidate for the presidency. No, I am not Karl Rove's assistant floating one out there. Hillary on the other hand would ninja her way into the nomination, through that process known politicking (note spelling).
I don't follow politics like sports, but I do dabble enough to know a kick in the teeth when I see one. Laura may have some insight the rest of don't have, but then I think I can draw an ugly enough bead on it.
Condi is not married, and apparently isn't dating anyone though I do understand she once mistakenly referred to the president as "my husband." No, I'm not going to source that. So my question, as crudely as I can put it...where is she getting dick? I have no issue with a wholly active woman, but if she ain't sleeping with somebody, somewhere, then we got a problem.
Did I just say I wouldn't elect Condi cause she's "reserved"? Yes. Yes, I did.
With the media today you would think there would be a hint of who's tapping that. Oprah has Steadman (um..right...), Beyonce has Jay-Z, Halle Berry was seeing some italian dude last time I checked, and the 2nd most powerful woman in the free world is with who? Is there even a hint of somebody? Does one of her security detail look like a maybe? Something.
And if she could swear off sex for ...let's see it'll be eight, then four..twelve years, I'm not too comfortable with her as a person. Even if her sex drive is low, damn that's a long time. Or worse yet, nobody ever tapped it right so she doesn't get it. Woe be the country.
Would the country be better run by a sex fiend? Yes. *cough* billclinton *cough*
Think about it, did you ever notice how in a candidates commercial they always show his/her family? Wonder where those kids came from? That's right, the candidate is subliminally annoucing that if their getting their freak on, their doing it at home. That me and the signifigant other get it on just like you. (Okay, they're usually lying about the home part). And this presents a problem for Condi in the values section, as she is unable to demonstrate on a fundamental level her sharing of the core values.
I'm not even a professional and I can come up with a halfway decent plan that wouldn't look too dirty the make Condi unelectable in about four or five good hours.
Maybe I'm just ranting and raving for nothing, although I just can't see middle America voting for someone named Obama unless between now and the election something changes.
Barkeep - Old crow with a beer back.
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