Life As I Know It

The Elks Club

2006-02-01T13:24:00.000-05:00

The Elks Club
I have been to the Holy Land, and it shall forever be known henceforth as The Elks Club. You probably have never been there. That’s because you are not an Elk. And you have to be an Elk, or be tight with an Elk , to get in. I was fortunate enough to be invited to have a drink with the Elks on my last trip to Colorado. Friends, I encourage you all to run out and join this mutherfucker as fast as you can.

I have often wondered what the hell happens at these places, and what possesses people to join them. I assume they wear hats with Elk antlers on them at their meetings, and practiced driving their miniature go-karts for parades. Until know, I couldnt be sure. It turns out, the sole purpose of the existence of the Order of the Elks, that I was able to grasp, is to provide a place for its members to enjoy very cheap, high quality alcohol. Im talking Grey Goose and Tonics for two bucks. Screw the kids with cancer and homes for the poor. This group exists for one reason, to get drunk, and to get drunk cheaply. I have no idea how they can sell top shelf liquor for golden grain prices, but I chalk it up to the mysterious powers of the Elk. Now just wait, before you all take off running for the closest lodge, there are a few things you should know.

Not everyone can gain admittance to this holy temple. First, you HAVE TO KNOW THE PASSWORD. No shit. This is so awesome. Its like when I used to build forts when I was younger and me and my friends would make up passwords to keep the other kids out. Well, just like then, the passwords don't even work. They just SAY you have to know the password, but really, you don't. You can just walk right in. That is exactly what we did. Perhaps I need to explain how the hell we ended up at the Elks Club in Durango, Colorado.

Me, the Kiwi, CMB and some other hippies went on a snowboard trip. While in Colorado, we stopped in to visit some of CMB's inlaws. Of course, they wanted to take us to all the best places that night, and it was announced that we would be having drinks at "the Elks" before hitting the town. And we would be joined by the inlaws-friends as well. Keep in mind, the Inlaws, and all of the Inlaws friends, are in their late fifties to sixties. They will also drink you under the table without ever removing the cigarette from their lips, save to light up a fresh one with the spent butt.

We walk in, and Im not sure who I am supposed to give the password to. There is an intercom at the front door. Of course, the door isnt locked and no one is guarding the entrance. That is because they are all inside at the bar. I guess the password thing is just to fool the Moose Club members. The Moose Club isnt very smart, and I don't think they drink that much.

You walk into the "Lodge" which is just a building located conveniently close to where the Elks work. I was told that a good Elk will get to work at about 2pm, check his messages, and is at the Elks bar by 3pm, after putting in a solid hours work thinking about drinking at the Elks. Inside the Lodge there are a bunch of tables. Apparently, the Elks serves food. No one is eating. Eating just wastes time that an Elk could be drinking. Our snowboard crew isnt exactly made of spring chickens, but at the Elks, our presence alone halved the median age. About 10 snowboarders walk in, unannounced to the Elks, and no one bats a damn eye. I guess they figured that if we were smart enough to get past the whole password thing, we were good enough to drink at their bar.

The bar kind of reminded me of a Hells Angels bar, circa 1960. Its all wood and very smokey. They have a non-smoking section. The non-smoking section is empty. Most people have sweet mustaches, are dressed in jeans, jean jackets, and cowboy or trucker hats. Everyone was smoking a cigarette. Everyone was approximately twice my age. It was just like being at home in Hazard County. Then I was in for the shock of my life.

I ordered two Grey Goose and tonics and three draft beers. Yes, the Elks know their shit when it comes to good liquor. Total bill: $12.00. I nearly fell on the floor. Apparently, I had found the holy land. No wonder the Elks don't have to work, a Mexican can drink all week on one day's wage of pesos at this place.
Some of the other Elks that new we were coming invited their kids, who were our age. Elks and their children have a very different relationship with each other than what I have with my parents. I was sitting at a table of snowboarders, Elks, and Elk children, when one asked if I wanted to smoke some pot. An Elk (whose son was sitting next to her) piped up, "If you do, meet in my car in 15 minutes. I will drive." This woman was at least 58 years old.

Elk mom drove while her son rode shotgun and packed bowls, the rest of the car was a mix of Elks and snowboarders. The Elks fucking know how to party. Im sure my parents smoked dope at some point in their lives, but they sure as hell never offered to drive me around to do it with them in a car full of their friends. It was on this car ride that Elk Mom told the story of how a friend commented that her sons were much more attractive than her husband. Elk Mom shouted to the car her husband’s response, "well Hell, I didnt Fuck her with my Face." Elk Mom told this story while her son was riding shotgun. I will say it again, the Elks have a very different relationship with their children than my parents and I do.

So basically, the Elks show up early, drink cheap as hell top shelf liquor, smoke a little pot, fuck with their kids, and in general live life the way it should be. Drunk. I love these people, and I hope that one day they will deem me worthy of joining their club.

The Highlander

2005-11-11T14:30:00.000-05:00

I was excited about going to the Highlander because I read all these really wonderful reviews of it on the internet, on those sites where anyone can write their opinion, which is usually a good barometer of a place because generally they are honest reviews. After reading them, I expected to find food like the EARL, the imposing facade of the Clairmont Lounge, and the clientele of the Yacht Club served with huge shots, huge beers, and at cheap prices. Basically it was described as the best bar in Atlanta. After having been there, I can safely say that most people are not qualified to give opinions.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine place. The food was pretty good, the drinks were in fact huge and cheap, they had pool tables and air hockey, but nothing struck me as being particularly scary, divy, or interesting. Being dimly lit and having bartenders with tattoos does not make a place scary, or even interesting, much less fun. The Highlander is decent, but I fail to see what all the fuss is about. I wish I could identify the intangibles that make a bar feel interesting and exciting, because if I could, I would be rich. But whatever it is, the Highlander did not strike me as having it.

Let’s see what others had to say about it online. Some guy wrote “This bar had me thinking about moving to the ATL. I'm still thinking about moving there, I want to work there that's how much I thought of this place.” It must really suck where this guy lives. Apparently, he is “a northern guy, 30, from Pittsburgh, PA.” Yes, it does suck where this guy lives.

Another genius wrote this, “we always have fond memories from our many experiences there.” Its not a fucking vacation destination, it’s a bar. I usually have no memories of bars except for a headache and a credit card receipt. She goes on, “We especially adore the lack of the Buckhead crowd, as well as the absence of yuppie scum and frat boys!” Is this the 80s, do we even have “yuppies” anymore, isnt pretty much everyone a yuppie know, and so the term is pretty much dead. Anyone who uses yuppie as a derogatory term is pissed off they didnt finish school and are stuck driving a Daihatsu.

From another opinion giver, “The Highlander has one of the best jukeboxes in town.” I wont dispute this, the thing is and 8 feet tall. “The place may look a bit scary, but the people are interesting and for the most part, friendly.” Its located in a strip mall, a well lit one, in the Highlands, and sits behind a Brewsters. The only thing scary is seeing gay men grab each others asses outside in the parking lot. But in the same token, Chris saw to girls having lesbian sex in their parked car, so it works both ways.

“It looks more imposing than it really is, although I wouldn't mind if it were a bit scarier to keep away some of the preppie types that show up, obviously "slumming it." Again with the, “we are poor and shabbily dressed and tattooed so we are scary and cooler than people who take baths” attitude. No you arent. No one cares. The alternative became mainstream in the early 90s. There is no such thing as being an anitconformist in this day and age, because EVERYONE is anti something. Everyone has a tattoo. Everyone listens to punk rock. Get over yourself.
As for the Alphaholics, this was a fine turnout, and probably the most diverse group yet. We have new faces show up at each bar. Unfortunately, I have not been able to drink as much as I did at the first few bars due to factors beyond my control. Accordingly, things have been pretty tame. For this, I apologize to all my Alphaholic friends, and promise to inspire more debauchery at future gatherings. Last night was not my best showing, I don’t even have a headache today. I will do better next time.

Gravity Pub

2005-11-10T16:16:00.000-05:00

Tonight is the "H" bar, and we will be heading to the Highlander. But last week, we went to the Gravity Pub, here is what it was like, if you missed it.

Gravity Pub

The coolest thing about the Gravity Pub is the downstairs. To get there, you have to kinda walk back into the kitchen like you belong there, look to the right for some stairs going down into what appears to be some dank cellar, and head down the rickety stairs. There are no signs pointing you in the right direction. Well, there may be one, but its not real clear if it is a real sign, or one of the many that were stolen from other establishments, like “Warning, No Life Guard On Duty.”

I showed Cathy the downstairs, she had no idea it was there, despite having been to Gravity several times. But when we went into the kitchen and came to the stairs, I saw a sign that said, “Downstairs closed until further notice,” and it was a real sign this time. Of course, we just ignored it and went on down, its not like it was locked or anything, and the lights were on. It looked normal to me, pool table, fooze ball, graffiti covered walls, random juke box, leaking sewer pipes. I did not really see a reason for it to be closed. No raw sewage or anything.

Back upstairs, I asked the bartender, the one that Chris thinks is pretty much the best bartender in Atlanta, and she said that the fire marshal shut it down until it was brought up to code. Code. What the fuck, the place is a dive, there is nothing up to code. And the downstairs is a cinder block cellar, what the hell is there to bring up to code. The last thing a place like the Gravity Pub needs is to be “brought up to code.” To quote Booger, “Who decides the standards?” Unfortunately, just as in Revenge of the Nerds II, Nerds In Paradise, the answer is, “why, your democratically elected leaders...of course.” And so you cant hang out downstairs anymore, at least not without violating the fire code, but I don’t think anyone is really checking.

Either way, the upstairs is great even without the downstairs. Its never crowded, there is good beer on tap, poured by a hot alterna-chick bartender/owner, and there are plenty of dart boards. Its fine if you don’t roll your own darts, or hand carve them like an Indian, or whatever these Dart Dorks that try to hog the boards, with their dart gloves and all, like to pretend is cool. You can just get them from the bar, for free. Im not good at darts, especially when drinking. Which is the whole point of the Gravity Pub. The people there arent trying to look cool by pretending they don’t care if they look cool, like everyone at the EARL. Its not a fashion show, where everyone tries to “out scene” each other. Its just a funky old bar with dart boards, good music, and a secret “closed, but only if you obey signs” downstairs. You should stop in sometime, its my favorite bar in EAV, and probably Atlanta.

The Earl

2005-10-26T18:08:00.000-04:00

We went to the Earl for the "E" bar. I was sick as hell, but fought threw it. I could hardly get two drinks down, and didnt stay more than an hour, so nothing crazy happened because I could not really give it much of an effort. I kinda just stared in a dazed at a football game. But anyway, here is my review of it. Tomorrow we go to Fuzzy's ,and Im on antibiotics. Normally I wouldnt give a shit, and would drink myself silly, but I have an important game on Saturday that I must save up for. I cannot risk being sick and missing the worlds largest outdoor cocktail party...

The Earl is probably East Atlanta Village’s most well known bar. Its not exactly a dive bar, not exactly a hipster bar, not exactly a restaurant ,and not exactly a live music venue, but it is all those things at once. The Earl anchors East Atlanta Village. Without it, the village would not hold its designation as “hippest neighborhood in Atlanta.” That is what Creative Loafing calls it, not me. I call it home.

The Earl has arguably the best bar food in town. Its only competition is the Vortex. The Vortex has a stranglehold on the best burger in town, and I love it. But the Earl has the edge in overall bar food. If you did not get here early enough to eat, you just dropped the damn ball. Expect the typical fried fare, burgers, fries, and even hotdogs. You wont be disappointed.

Thankfully the Earl is one of the best bars we will visit during the entire alphabet. It has live music, good food, and interesting people. Most lean towards the hipster set with a dash of rockabilly thrown in as well. Pratt said it best, “Most of the people here look like they havent bathed in a month.” This is probably true, but it is a look they are going for. Only a handful truly had not bathed in a month.

This is the EAV, so expect plenty of tattoos, dyed hair, and studded jewelry. The Earl, and the EAV with it, has become the defacto alterna-destination now that Little Five has gone suburban. But with it comes the feeling of realness, without any of the cheesiness you find in the Highlands and now, even L5P. You just get a good feeling when settling in to the bar here for a drink. Its like the people there are more serious about drinking than what kind of car they drove to the bar in.

Of course, there is plenty of PBR to go around to all who feel that it is necessary to drink PBR in a slightly shady bar. I am on a personal crusade to end this ridiculousness. There is no reason not to enjoy the beer you are drinking. Order the good stuff. Beer is more than a means to an end. Good beer gets you just as drunk as shitty beer, its just more fun along the way.

I was scared that EAV, being so deep in the hood, might scare off our less adventurous alphaholics, given that people are routinely held up at gunpoint in the Village, carjacked, robbed, threatened, and what have you. But that just adds a little flavor to the night out. Of course, its probably safer than Buckhead. I did not get a final count, but we had a lot of regulars and many some timers, and it is safe to day we had well above 20 show up to what was the probably the largest outing yet. By far the most fun bar we have been to, setting aside the Clairmont, which is an experience that cannot be compared to anything else.

So please, if you are ever in East Atlanta, by all means stop in at the Earl, you will find good food, interesting people to look at, and a well poured pint, without attitude. What more could you ask for.

Village Pizza

2005-10-21T21:43:00.000-04:00

Village Pizza seems a tad confused. Its not in the EA Village, its in Cabbagetown, like its owner, who migrated over from Grant Central Pizza, which itself is in the EA Village, but itself is named after another neighborhood. See, confusing.

And the pizza is pretty good. A generous slice comes with little grease, and is made with fresh ingredients. How do you compete with that. Its new, and tucked away in Cabbagetown, so finding a table is easy enough. However, I heard that there was no beer served yet. So I called:

Me: Do you serve beer
VP: No, but hopefully early next year we will.

Me: So is it cool if we bring our own? (note: its legal to bring your own if they dont have a liquor liscence, Im a lawyer, trust me).
VP: Well, I thought it was, but then I was told that you cant. And we are trying to get our liscence, and I dont want to screw that up...but, if you bring beer, just keep it on the DL, pour it in a cup, and it will be cool. Just keep it on the downl low. Like, dont leave any bottles on the tables, Im trying to get my liscence, and if I get busted, I will hate you forever.

Me: Uh, ok man, thanks.

So, if you want to drink, you can, but its a bit of a hassle, and you run the risk of being hated forever. Of course, that is nothing new to me. There are tons of people who hate me. Like the lawyer who once threatend to beat my ass in a deposition, but when I said fine old man, bring your shit, he ran away, while calling me a pussy. WHILE HE RAN AWAY. He hates me forever.

Dixie Tavern

2005-10-15T09:23:00.000-04:00

Thursday brought us to the letter "D" on the alphabet as the Alphaholics are four bars in to drinking their way through the entire alphabet one bar at a time. Dixie Tavern was chosen, even though it is OTP as hell. I used to live OTP, now I remember why I moved into the city. I was skeptical of the Dixie Tavern. I always thought of it as a dive bar full of suburban rednecks. Dive bars a fine, rednecks are funny sometimes, but the suburbs have no redeeming qualities at all.

What surprised me most about this bar is the clientel. For the most part, they were reasonably attractive girls, just out of college. What the hell. Why did they decide the Dixie Tavern, located in a strip mall, sandwhiched between car dealerships, in the middle of suburubia hell, was the place to go. Im not sure, maybe it was the live country music. Country music is awesome, as long as it was made no later than 1983, or, if later, was made in Texas. This was neither. This was the shit you hear for three seconds on the radio before saying, "what the fuck is this shit" . Apparently young college girls like it, because they were there in droves. And by college, I mean the outlying technical colleges, junior colleges, and the four year schools where you dont have to apply, you just show up the first day and sign up. Of course, these are the colleges also favored by strippers, so it kind of makes sense.

The bar itself is a fairly spacious space, they have decent pub food, and a nice selection of beer on tap. Dive bars do not have Octoberfest beer, or Purple Haze on tap like the DT. Of course, they did have the requisite $2 PBR, which everyone except me felt compelled to buy. PBR sucks. I refuse to drink shitty beer just appear ironic, which is why 99% of people drink it. The other 1% are kids who really dont have any money, so every dollar saved is half another PBR. College educated professionals pulling in even half of six figures need not drink PBR.

There are TV's lining the wall, and a few projectors. I get the impression that this would be a good place to watch a few games, if, you know, you lived in the suburbs. I found it funny that the guys behind the bar, at a place called the Dixie Tavern, were not the rebel-flag-patch-on-sleeveless-denim-jacket wearing, Copenhagen spitting, civil war re-enactors you would expect, but a bunch of guys from New Jersey that seemed to have come straight out of Orange County Choppers.

All in all, it was probably the most fun bar we have been to, with the exception of the Clairmont. The Clairmont is an experience in and of itself, and cannot be described in terms of "fun" or "not as fun." The DT was packed out with young girls, there was a live band, though not exactly my style, apparently appealed to some because you had to squeeze through the crowd to get to the bar. We had a lot of new faces show up, and though i dont have the offical count, I am sure it was the most we have had yet. It strikes me that, for a lot of people, the suburbs are considered close by, and not some strange far away land that takes forever to get to, as I view it, which may have helped our cause.

If I ever find myself trapped OTP, and in need of a beer (and really, when am i not in need of a beer), I would definately go back. Next week, my favorite bar, which happens to also be in my hood. The East Atlanta Resturant and Lounge. You my know it as The Earl.

Clairmont Lounge

2005-10-12T14:29:00.000-04:00

When I walked into Clairmont Lounge, the our "C" bar for the Alphaholics Anonymous weekly meeting, I was shocked. Like most people, I could not believe what I was seeing on the stage. But its not what you think. This was not my first time, or even my 20 th, so I was not taken aback by meth-addict-rotting-teeth-bruised-ass 50yr old hookers on the stage. I was shocked because there was only about two strippers out of ten that looked like homeless crack whores. The rest of the girls could easily be found in your average low rent strip club. On every previous trip, the average age of the strippers was 55. But now it appears to be closer to 25. If it wasnt for Sophie, the late sixties great-grandmother (whose life story once made Rikki cry), it would be tough to shock the uninitiated with the obsenity that is seeing most of the Clairmont strippers nekkid. These new girls, while by no means hot, were actually watchable without clothes on. It was the first time I have ever considered getting a table dance from a stripper at the Clairmont, but in the end, it still wasnt quite worth the $5.

At most Atlanta strip clubs, you cant dance with a tattoo. It has to be concealed or covered with makeup. The Clairmont has apparently become the defacto bar for the Suicidegirls.com set because they let anyone that can stand, dance. There were quite a few punk chicks with tattoos and piercings, because that is pretty much the only place they can get work. If what I saw was typical, the Clairmont might have taken one step closer towards mainstream. Of course, by mainstream, I mean the girls no longer jump off the stage mid-set, once they have earned enough dollars, to run outside and score some more crack. Mainstream means there are not so many cellulite riddled, black-eyed depraved drug addicts (though they still have a few), but rather more girls with spikes protruding from their lips, half their head shaved like Sinead O'conner and the other half dyed pink. It is less crackalleyblowjobs.com, and more rachelrotten.com, but has a long way to go before it becomes clubjenna.net . Either way, the clientele there still has its fair share of hopeless lonely old men, homeless bums exchanging their spare change for PBR, frat guys ordering Amstell Light, and hipsters drinking High Life because they like the look of the label. Which is to say, the Clairmont brings together all walks of life, and everyone generally has a good time laughing at each other (and the girls onstage).

A lot of people are scared of the Clairmont, but that is just stupid. Its not scary, its just dirty, but also a hell of a fun time. It had been a while since I had been there, but we all agreed that we should return more often. The thing I like most about the Clairmont is that it is what it is. It doesnt try to be a shitty dirty dive bar, it just is because that is the way it always has been. Sure a lot of other places are dingy and dirty, but only because the owners are going for that vibe. It has an authenticity about it that is not tarnished by being listed in magazines and newspapers and "Best Dive Bar in Atlanta," year in and year out, whatever the hell that means. The women behind the bar have been there for years, as have many of the strippers. It's the only place I've ever been too where the girls come by after dancing and thank you for tipping them. Hell, half the time I got a thank you, I didnt even tip.

Our group this week was probably the most diverse yet. We had a former Gold Club dancer, a laywer, a few yuppies, a Girl Scout troop leader, a couple of gay guys, and some hippies. I have seen a lot in my short time on this earth, but I have never seen a gay asian guy tipping a great-grandmother four times over for flashing him her grey haired beaver...until yesterday. Im ready to go back next week, but instead, we will see you at the Dixie Tavern.

In Da Club

2005-10-07T14:28:00.000-04:00

The Yacht Club in L5P recently was awarded Best Intown Bar by Creative Loafing. Its not the best, but it is a good place to have a few beers. We were sitting in the front booth by the windows when I spot a bus unload a bachelorette party. They werent really attractive, but drunk secretarys out slumming generally make for some good times.

Shortly after the bachelorette's apperance, I notice some black dude outside, holding a large pizza and a twelve pack of beer, at midnight. Im not sure what he is doing, but he stands out there for a while. I grab my camera and ask him if I can take a picture. He says no problem, that he is just waiting on his "old lady." I get the shot, and then go back to my pint inside, when few minutes later, he knocks on the window and motions me outside. So I head back out.

His "old lady" has seen my camera and wants to pose. Just like any chick, she will do anything for the camera. She is one hell of a model, I must say. I snap away, she starts to get a little wild. Off comes her top. Things are getting better, the bachelorette party has spotted us, and they come out of the bar to participate. Girls are getting in the pictures, clothing is coming off, girls are kissing, then some butch bartender comes out and says, "you don't have my permission to be doing this." To which I say, "bitch, this is a sidewalk, we don't need your permission for shit." At least I think thats what I said, but maybe not, because if I really said that, I cant imagine her letting me back in the bar. I do remember going back into the bar later and continuing to drink, so I cant say for sure. I have a problem with not remembering things recently.

So anyway, if you were wondering what a night on the town drinking with me is like, I give you this, which pretty much sums it all up.

Just Let Me Finish

2005-09-30T21:14:00.000-04:00

Last night was Alphaholics...I am right now drinking scotch to try to kill my hangover so that I can go out again tonight. Its working. We were the last of about 20 people, to leave the bar. I was reminded today that as the night was winding down, and pretty much everyone was leaving, I was having too much fun, as usual. Everytime my ride would say, "lets go", I would reply, "ok, just let me finish my beer." I would then promptly find a pitcher and refill my drink. This happened three times, until the pitcher was empty. Then I started picking up left over beers on the table and drinking those. "Just let me finish my drink" I kept saying. Eventually I was told we were leaving, drink finished or not. I only vaguely remember doing this. Do you think i have a problem. Me too.

Its Alphaholics Tuesday

2005-09-28T12:49:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow theAtlanta chapter of the Alphaholics meets at its "B" location. After the decent turn out at Atkins Park, we are expecting even more alcholics who like to get drunk in bars selected in alphabetical order. The next location is at the Brewhouse Cafe in L5P.

Last time I didnt bring my camera and nothing really exciting happened. Everyone said it was because there was no camera to show off for. (See below regarding girls and the camera). So, rest assured, I will have it tomorrow.

2005-09-20T17:33:00.000-04:00

Saturday I went to the largely uneventful UGA/BFE game. It was the Mexican's birthday, and a couple guys took him over to Athens to celebrate. It was an early afternoon game, which left little time to get hammered before the game. But we tried. Our seats are directly in front of the cheerleaders, and, just before halftime, its where the dance line girls line up for the half time show.

One spotted me with my new camera, and I waved, and she waived, and I took pictures, and she smiled. She then got her whole team to smile and wave, and she was very excited I was taking her picture.

Me: (In loud voice, 7 rows back) "Hi, smile...thats good, now wave, now everybody...ok, good...thats going to be awesome"
They are happy to have a fan, and truely seem to be enjoying the picture taking.

Me: (In equally loud voice) "Now, everyone all at once....show me your tits"
The danceline girls just kind of didnt know what to do, and walked awkardly away from the hedges back towards the sidelines. Meanwhile the stands erupted with laughter, and guys were high fiving me. It was exactly what I intended to happen.

I often find myself saying and writing things simply to get a reaction. I get bored easily. When I get bored, especially when alchohol is involved, you can be assured that to entertain myself I will see what kind of shit i can stir up. The thing is, with my new camera (a decenly high end Cannon that girls seem to think is a professional camera), girls actually do what I ask, even when I am just fucking with them. My new favorite is, "ok, lets get a picture of you two." "Oh, yeah, thats going to be a great one....Now kiss each other" You would fall over if I told you how many shrug and start making out at my direction. Sure, a few say, "we dont really do that," but not many.

The point of all this, is that you will be surprised what happens if you simply ask for it. 90% of it is asking with a tone that you expect it to occur. I would get nowhere if I came across as saying this crap with a wink, or with the tone that it was more of a question than a direction. "Will you girls kiss now?" aint gonna work nearly like "Now Kiss." I dont know why, it just doesnt.

I have tried to tell all this to my redneck friend we shall call Buck. Buck always talks such a huge game about all the girls he goes out with, or that he has coming over to his apartment. I always ask, "Did you see her nekkid?" which he always replies, "No," followed by somelame excuse. I follow up with "Did you ask" which, again, always gets a no.

I guess the social filter that keeps most people within the bounds of normal society doesnt mesh right in my head. Whereas most people would rather not risk entering into a situation where the other person is offended or "might not like you," I seem to seek those stiuations out. The funny thing is, very very few people are actually offended. Hell, I bet a few of those danceline girls would have actually done it if there had not been 90 thousand people around. So, again, the point is, dont hesitate to ask.

Not Much to Report

2005-09-14T17:11:00.000-04:00

I must apologize for my lack of updates. People have been getting on my ass about not writing enough. Its not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. Sometimes, I get motivated to churn something out, sometimes I dont feel like writing even though I have something note worthy. So it could be a week or two between posts if Im not feeling it.

I would rather post something entertaining as oppossed to posting for the sake of posting.

This weekend is the Mexican and Smat's birthdays. We are returning to Athens for the game, and will likely come back to ATL for a night on the town. I am sure it will be blog worthy. My last trip to Athens ended in me just gettin hammered and walking around bumping into people I know. Nothing terribly exciting to report, but a fun time all around.

Next weekend is the first meeting of the Atlanta alphaholics http://atlanta.alphaholics.com . If you dont know, you go to a new bar every week starting with the letter "A" and working up the alphabet each week to "Z". Come join us, wont you?

Holy Christ Its Been a While

2005-09-09T19:25:00.000-04:00

I forgot I even had a blog to write. I used to write all the time. I also used to have a real blog that people read everyday, but I fired myself from that gig, and have been on secret underground hiatus here ever since. So...what have I been up to.

I went to Vegas for a bachelor party...before we went, someone suggested NOLA. I scoffed then, but now wish I had one last go round before it got fucking leveled. Vegas was fun...which is about all one is ever allowed to say about it.

I briefly had a blog on my retarded Mexican friends website www.teamchump.com . check it out if you feel like it. Its just some idiot friends of mine talking to each other. So, yeah, I had a blog there until it got hacked to hell and back bc the Mexican is not so good with internet security. So I dont really screw with it anymore.

I had a huge fucking trial to prepare for, and that has preoccupied most of my time. Having a bipolar judge is both humerous and exhausting at the same time. Perhaps more on that later. Its over now, but I dont know if we won or not yet...it will be a while before we get a ruling.

I have also written what will be my third published article this year for Alliance. Alliance is a wakeboarding magazine. If you dont know what wakeboarding is, you are retarded. Go slap yourself for me. Im tired of explaining that its like snowboarding behind a boat.

One of my favorite towns in the whole world got destroyed. No, not Biloxi, Im not that redneck. Yes, its NO. (doesnt that last sentence look funny when reading it). Anyway, as soon as NOLA gets back in action, I think we should all make a concerted effort to get back there and pour out some liquor for our homies...directly into our throats.

This weekend I will be in Athens for GA/SC. Im planning on having quite the time, bc its been a while since I have had a solid night on the town in Athens. Perhaps I will have something worth writing about. I really have a huge backlog of crap to write out...so keep checking back...i will try to be amusing.

What Do Stupid People Think About Stupid People?

2005-08-19T17:08:00.000-04:00

Apparently, every punk little kid in Atlanta decided to go to Staples in Midtown last Tuesday to re-stock on school supplies. For some god forsaken reason, I found myself in Midtown and needed a computer card at exactly the same time. Might as well go on in, I thought, this will only take a minute. I am stupid.

First, this is Midtown, I didnt think gay people even had kids. Well, apparently they do. Or else not everyone in Midtown is gay, Im not sure which. One thing is for sure, there were five million school kids in Staples, running down the aisles clutching packs of multicolored pens and pencils. I thought this was the 21st Century. What the hell do kids need pens and pencils for. Why isnt everyone on a computer like the rest of the civilized world.

I found what I needed, and got in line behind some old woman and her little brat. We wait for about 10 minutes for this guy to work out his tax free card situation. Apparently it was worth it to sit in a line for 15 minutes while they got the manager to phone the IRS to verify his tax exempt status to save $3.00. I value my time by my hourly rate. Lets just say it’s a tad north of $9.00 an hour. I start to get antsy.

Finally the woman, who must be 60, gets to the register with her 10 year old daughter. A woman her age having kids is sick in and of itself, but this lady is exceptionally disgusting. Her eyes don’t quite line up, she is wearing a teacher’s smock, and her daughter says to her in that “Im 10 and have only one speaking voice: LOUD, “Ewww Mom, you have a hair on your face. You have a mustache. Let me get it off, ewww.” This cheers me up because the woman must be dying of humiliation. Then she proceeds to pay with a check.

A goddamn check. Nothing pisses me off more than someone insisting on using a check, the most outdated mode of financial transaction left in the world. Its akin to clipping articles and writing a letter to your best friend instead of emailing them the website. So now I am in line for 25 minutes, still waiting while she writes the check. The clerk takes it and proceeds to waste 10 minutes figuring out how to process such an ancient relic.

About this time I notice a huge pile of crap still on the counter yet to be wrung up. I see the kid pull out a dirty crumpled twenty dollar bill. I had heard her whining about , “I want to pay for myself, I want to pay,” but I didnt really process what the fuck she was talking about. Surely she gets out in the world enough not to be overly excited about handing a cashier money.

She says, “Mom, I know this is all you gave me, but I might need a couple more dollars. It wont be much.” She must have $100 worth of pens on the counter. There is at least 10 packs of Sharpies of every color. Plus notebooks, cd cases, pencils and a bunch of other shit. This aint the goddam dollar store. What the hell is this retard thinking. The first two items scanned totaled over $20. The grand total was $70.

Who the hell taught this idiot how to count. Twenty fucking dollars my ass bitch. Get the fuck out of here and stop wasting my time. Of course she has to put some of it back, while grandma writes another goddam check for $50. By this time, all the registers have cleared and I walk to another register and pay.

How hard is it to close the simple financial transaction of buying goods. You put it on the counter, swipe your card, and get the hell out. Don’t sign up for discount card AT THE REGISTER, don’t waste 15 minutes of everyone’s time to save 5%, and for goddsakes don’t write two goddam checks for one transaction. What if I had been the one pulling this crap and that woman had been behind me. I wonder if she would have thought, “you know, I totally understand why he cant tell the difference between $100 worth of goods and $20, why he still pays with checks, and why he takes 20 minutes to pay for his shitty little items.” Thats why I didnt feel bad when, as I walked by them still at the register on my way out, I said, “Be nice to your Mom, you will have a mustache too one day.”

Digging For Gold

2005-08-08T16:58:00.000-04:00

We have been finding a totally absurd amount of glass in our yard in the past few weeks. And by absurd, I mean that under the few inches of topsoil in my yard lies enough glass to grind up and replace about 4.3 square miles of sand on Florida’s gulf coast. Except it is not ground up, it is huge jagged green, brown, clear, red, black glass, from one end of my yard to the other. How in the fuck did it get there. I happen to know a little bit about my property, and I can 100% safely say it was never a landfill. The former owner, who died in his 80s, was born in that house. A house his parents built in 1925.

We discovered the extent of the glass (which we previously just chalked up to some random construction debris when our house was renovated) when we added a deck this weekend. In digging the holes for the 4x4 support beams, I found old socks, plastic bags, the sole of a shoe. It was at this point we began joking about dead bodies being buried in the backyard.

It seems the old guy was quite eccentric, and never threw out anything. We began to wonder if this included his dead wife as well. It was all kind of a joke until I unearthed a fresh set of dentures. To say I was a little shocked was an understatement. There, lying only about 6 inches below the surface, was buried the upper set of false teeth. A full set. I seriously thought I found a dead body. My only comment was, "we cover this hole and no one says anything. Im putting the house on the market." But then I saw the pink plastic of the upper palate, and realized they were fakes.

Now, I can understand the dog taking some socks out back and burying them. I can understand that you are a lazy bum and throw your trash out back that. But dentures. How the hell did they end up in the backyard. Did the dog bury them. Did they drop out of the owner's pocket while he was digging a ditch. Why the hell are dentures in my back yard.

Not to mention the four tons of glass strewn about just under the surface. And socks, and bags. Who the hell buries this type of stuff. If anyone can shed some light on this, especially the glass, I would appreciate it.

Needless to say, I stopped digging in the yard for fear of what else I might find.

Bums: ATL v. Boston

2005-07-31T14:50:00.000-04:00

I hate to admit it, but Boston's bums are much smarter than Atlanta's bums. I walked into the Boston Public Library where they have free internet access. Next to me was a crusty old dirty bum pounding out an email on hotmail, one grubby fingered letter at a time. This means many things. One, this bum can read and write, and had the mental faculties to string together actual sentences. Two, this bum was savvy enough to create a hotmail account, which includes the ability to remember a login and password. Three, this bum had people he needed to talk to, that also used the internet. This is mindblowing folks. Who the hell is a bum talking to on the internet. It certainly made me remember to wash my hands after using the keyboard.

My Birthday

2005-07-25T16:46:00.000-04:00

I don’t expect much out of birthdays anymore. There are really only two important ones: Being old enough to drink, and old enough to drive. I am old enough to do both, and I regularly do both together. Social security is really the only one left to look forward to. And even though it’s a ways off, I look forward to sucking dry the productive youth of society.

I was fortunate to have my birthday on a Friday night, which meant the entire crew was up for a night on the town. My crew consists of a bunch of aging hasbeens. They don’t go out on just any night. Spanish, is a mexican that we sponsored from a tv commercial. He never went back. The Greek is probably the most metrosexual on our group. And by group I mean every man on the planet. The guy gels each individual hair strand, rocks a gold medallion, tans in a speedo, botex’s his balls, and is completely hairless from the neck down. If he wasnt a childhood friend of Prattinez, we would all probably hate him. Prattinez is a white guy but drives a lowrider truck and works construction (in an office). Big Sexy is bald Colorado hippy/biker. Steve-o is big enough to kick your ass, but wont. Bill is Big Sexy’s friend from out west, a recent transplant to ATL.

The night began at the Vortex, and if you havent been, get your ass there now. Best burgers in town, bar none. I wasnt there 5 seconds before a shot of tequila was set in front of me. “Happy Birthday bitch” toasted Prattinez. I love my friends. The front of the Vortex is shaped like a laughing skull, what more could you ask for. We sat down and the waitress bought me an Irish Car Bomb and one for herself, on the house. The night was progressing nicely and we hadnt even started dinner.

We obtained use of the Greeks’ father’s minivan for the evening and put Spanish at the wheel. It had three hubcaps, but we found a fourth on the sidewalk outside of the Gravity Pub in EAV. It was shots of jager upon arriaval. I think it was on special There is nothing special about Jager except how awful it is.

.If you go down to the basement at Gravity, be careful if you play pool.“Look out for that, it’s the Shitter.” Prattinez warned, pointing up to the leaking plumbing above the pool table. Prattinez works construction and knows this type of shit. A dripping sewage pipe really adds to the charm of any dive bar. There are no chicks in the EAV. If there are, they look like guys, and have more tatoos than Big Sexy. We decided we had enough man time, and it was time to move on.

Over my objections that it was to classy for my tastes, we ended up at the Pink Pony. Naturally, we valet the minivan. The Pony is generally thought of as the best strip club in town. I disagree. It has the most attractive women no doubt, but they are like Russian porn stars, all business and no heart. Give me a girl who enjoys what she’s doing. I don’t care if she has C-section scars and cankels. Nothing puts some energy in a lapdance like the desperation of three kids back at home in the trailer and a meth habit to feed.

Its at this point that the night begins to resemble more of a bachelor party than a birthday party. I sit down and two second later I get a lap dance. As soon as she gets up the shot girl sits down. I don’t give a shit about the overly long simulated blowjob they give the shot cylinder. If you arent going to show me your tits, leave the shot on the table and get the fuck off my lap, there are ladies waiting.

This pattern repeats itself until I begin to lose track of pretty much everything. Dances get kind of boring at the Pony after a while because the strippers just kind of dance in front of you rather than all over you like at some of the more desperate clubs. The Greek tried to liven things up by pulling the girls hair back as she grinded him. They don’t like that at the Pony. You cant get away with anything there, its worse than fucking middle school, so we decide to head out. Im not complaining or anything, its just that if you like a more hands on experience, you probably want to try elsewhere.

We decided that all looking and no touching sucked, and we moved on to our prearanged rendevous with the ladies. We get to a bar in the Highlands were I promptly lose all sense of being in control of my mental faculties. Soon after, I fall asleep leaning against a pole. I fall asleep on the bar. Apparently, I fall asleep easily when dead drunk. Earlier, bets were that I wouldnt see eleven. It was only about 2am, but I was toast. I manage to pick myself up off the bar and promptly demand to be taken home. When things don’t happen fast enough for me, I begin to repeat them.

Me: “I need to go home”

Big Sexy: “The girls are on their way, the Kiwi will be here to take care of you in a few minutes.” Big Sexy tries to pacify me until he can pass me off to my girlfriend. I speed dial the Kiwi. I am crashing fast.

“ I NEED TO GO HOME” I shout into the Kiwi’s voicemail, and then to anyone within earshot.

“TAKE ME HOME NOW GODDAM IT”

I simply repeat this with increasing gusto and frequency until Big Sexy decides to wash his hands of me and sticks me in a cab.

The Kiwi arrives home 5 minutes after me to find me playing with the dog, perfectly coherent. I have no recollection of this. She was worried I wouldnt be able to speak well enough to give the cab driver directions. I was fine. He was Nigerian and I was hammered, the language sounded pretty much the same.

The next day, Out West Hippy Bill says, “Dude, I cant believe you didnt throw up.” People, I have thrown up in my life exactly twice since the age of 5. Both times involved chewing tobacco. I have done as much or more drinking as your typical alcoholic, and like them, I do not throw up. I do not know why, but it just doesnt happen. Back when I had to take a class on the dangers of drinking for getting my first underage possession, the instructor told us that you throw up because your body is so poisoned by the large amount of alcohol, it prevents your organs from shutting down. Well, I think my body just really likes alcohol and doesnt want to waste any. So I end up passing out regularly rather than throwing up. It’s a tradeoff Im satisfied with.

So, nothing really crazy happened, which is not surprising. My friends are scarred of EAV, and almost balked at the Gravity Pub. Such sheltered lives suburbanites lead. Give me crack ho’s on the street and police helicopters in the sky, and I am a happy man. Oh, and alcohol, Im not happy without alcohol.

Thats Whats Up

2005-07-19T10:10:00.000-04:00

Harf was in town last week for some incognito riding with the boys from Ambush and Eddie Bev (the Hyperlite rep). Brett and Brandon were on hand. The Lees are hooked up by Hyperlite, and I wonder how long it will be before Brett is put on the pro team. We were talking the other day and he is considering skipping Jr Mens next year and going straight to pro (take note JD Webb, no sense sandbagging when you are ready to move up).

If this happens, with a little push from Hyperlite, Brett could easily be “The Next Big Thing.” He is still in highschool, but has pretty much every trick that any pro top pro throws in a tour run. He also has tricks that very few people can land. All this, and he rarely has time to ride more than a few days each week during the school year. Stick this kid in Orlando and the progression Backside 7 anyone. Once those 9s get dialed, and a few more mobe5 variations, there will be no gap between him and the veterans of the sport. Im calling it now, in 2 years, Brett Lee will be a household name.

In other news, with all the boat dealer switching going on in Atlanta, I bet the next Ambush tournament will be pulled by a DeckStar rather than a Nautique due to the Bush’s association with Water Sports Central, who, rumor has it, will be making the switch from Nautique to Mastercraft in a few weeks.

We Gonna Party Like Its....

2005-07-15T15:27:00.000-04:00

Today is my birthday. Spanish plans on taking me out on the town with the rest of Team Chump (sans TC women) for a night of celebration. This is going to be ugly. The Greek has obtained the use of a minivan to transport the crew to the greatest (read: seediest) strip clubs Atlanta has to offer. Yeah, a fucking minivan...we don’t exactly give a shit about rolling in style. Ill let you know how it goes. Bets are that I wont make it past 10.00pm. Apparently, I have a reputation for going down early. But I have a plan. Im sure if I funnel a 4 pack of redbull before we hit the town, I should see at least 11.30.

Bums Don’t Recycle

2005-07-07T10:19:00.000-04:00

I was cutting the grass this morning after having let it grow into a mini rainforest for several months. It used to be the case that no one would notice such utter lack of lawn maintenance because all the neighbors were strung out on crack, or too busy turning tricks to really care about landscaping. But times have changed.

All of my neighbors are, like me, young with decent jobs who moved into the city because we hate the suburbs, the traffic, and the cookie cutter houses. My neighborhood (O-Dub) has pretty much gone full circle. Gone are the crack houses, tire strewn front lawns, and helicopter spot lights, and in their place are baby strollers, dogs (on a leash with a collar), and rainbow flags.

Yes, my neighborhood has been gentrified, just like every other ghetto neighborhood in Atlanta. Well, not every other neighborhood, the ones that surround O-Dub, Grant Park, and EAV are still pretty ghetto. We get our fair share of bums walking through the neighborhood.

I have named one of my favorite bums “Amigo.” For some reason, the crack has warped his brain so that he feels compelled to pick up all trash in the neighborhood. It’s the reverse of how crack typically makes bums fuck up everything they come in contact with. Amigo picks up sticks, bits of paper, and whatever else crosses his path.

Wednesday is trash and recycling day in O-Dub, and all my hippie neighbors put out their recycling. I don’t believe in recycling, so I don’t have anything but a trashcan.

As I am cutting the front yard one morning, Amigo strolls by and notices the bin full of recycling, but clearly fails to grasp that it is an environmental thing, and was purposefully set there. Well, just as my neighbor is walking out of his house to go to work, Amigo grabs the recyling bin, opens the trash can, and dumps the entire recyling bin contents into the trash can.

Bums don’t recycle, and apparently, they don’t tolerate people who do. There was little my neighbor could do but look on in disbelief as Amigo carefully replaced the empty recycling bin back on the curb and continued on, satisfied with himself for putting trash in its rightful place. You dont get funny shit like this in the suburbs.

Blueberry Margaritas

2005-07-04T18:25:00.000-04:00

Its the fouth of July holiday weekeed. The Kiwi and I headed to the Flint to escape the madness of Lake Lanier. I saw the other day that 25,000 boats are on Lanier at any given time. 24,500 of them are idiots, its not a good mix.

On the way down we decided to rear end some extremely high strung dog show people. And when I say we, I mean the Kiwi was driving. Have you ever seen Best In Show, if not, stop reading and go rent it now. Call me after you have peed in your pants three times and we can talk about how good it is. These were those people. We dented a stupid grooming table and a dog crate strapped to the back of the car, thats it. For this, the guy who I would swear was gay if he was not married to a nasaly old hag, said, "Oh my God, my weekend is ruined. WE ARE GOING TO A DOG SHOW!" His face was so red I thought he was going to give birth to a dog right there. I wasnt sure whether to laugh in his face for being such a fag, or punch him. "Give me space, Give me space" is all he would say when I suggested we skip the cops, exchange info, and be on our way. My patience was growing thin with this guy already.

So he wanted to be a dick. Fine, its my job to be a dick, and right now Ive got an extemely upset Kiwi who thinks she just killed my car, a JAP going on and on about "Oh My Gawd, this Taable costs $1000.00," and an obviously gay husband prissing around pouting about a goddam dented cargo hauler. I dont give a shit, thats why god made insurance, so I whip out my card. As soon as the woman sees "Attorney at Law" she shuts the fuck up, and her attitude changes to Sweet Southern Bell, peaches and creme and all that shit. The asshole calls the cops, who tell him just to submit the info over the phone bc its too damn busy this weekend to fool with us. Just like I suggested we do 45 minutes ago. I want to kill him, but decide to merely make it extremely difficult on him when he tries to get us to pay for his damage. Im sure I can string it out a good three years before he sees one cent, he should have been a tad nicer. We leave and make it in time to ride an evening set on Friday.

The Flint is its typical "No boats until 2:00pm" for the entire weekend. By Monday, we are so exhausted we can barely ride two sets. I almost kill myself wakeboarding on a TS BS 1, and promptly remember Im a wakeskater. And then break another BiLevel. Cracked the top deck again. Actually, it delamed, and then cracked. But whatever, great design, shitty craftsmenship. Im getting an Integrity.

Yes, I have broken 3 BiLevels in the span of 5 weeks. And Im not that good.

I was reminded this weekend of a couple of stories I have never written down. One was when a cop pulled me over at the beach and I told him I didnt feel like giving him my liscence. The other was me nearling sueing someone over failing to deliver me SEC championship football tickets. Both are worth telling, so I will write them up soon.

Oh, the title, Blueberry Margaritas. Its is the best damn frozen concoction I have ever had. I pride myself on my margaritas, they are truly works of art. But my sister came across a reciepe for blueberry margaritas (blueberrys happen to be in season down here, and we had 4 gallons of them picked and ready to blend) that will knock your tounge clean out of your mouth.

And Thats That

2005-07-01T11:22:00.000-04:00

Yesterday my blog was removed from wakeboardamerica.com, where i have been writing since the day it started three years ago. It all revolved around me calling out Atlanta Inboard, a sponsor on the site, for being a bunch of dicks who know nothing about their own market. I would not normally have done this, but they previously went on the attack against me, so I couldnt very well hold back.

Instead of taking it like a man, or replying with an explanation as to why i was wrong, they called up the owner of the site, and cried like little babies. Basically they pressured him to delete my post. I am not in the habit of having other people tell me what I can and cannot write, and told MikeB that if he had to take down the post, to take the whole blog down. Money won over integrity, and now I am here, until I find a place to put my blog back up.

Here is what I wrote, can you believe grown men got so worked up over this.

An Open Letter To MikeD (Atlanta Inboard)

In response to the (out of the blue) post in the forums that Atlanta Inboard was opening a new shop, I posted that it conflicted with the Ambush tournament that had been scheduled for many months. An AI employee gave the reasonable explanation that it was pretty much the only day that fit. I posted nothing further until you (MikeD), a week later ask, “What is up my ASS,” and “Do you really think wakeboarding and wakeboard boat sales revolve around Ambush events.” I will answer both of those questions in a moment, but first allow me to comment on your lack of professionalism and lack of knowledge of the market place.

I am sure that my often abrasive posts bring out the worst in people, and I no longer get the benefit of the doubt, people assume I am being a dick. That is fine, usually I am. However, when you go on the offensive on a public forum, it only reflects negatively on you and your shop. Like it or not, consumers do not like to deal with aggressive merchants. Getting defensive with me, when I simply pointed out a scheduling conflict, only suggests you will do the same with customers with problems with your boats, or wakeboards or whatever. They don’t like that.

As for grassroots events, often put on by Ambush, YES, I do think that is the heart and soul of the sport. Ambush (and others) have done more to make the Georgia wakeboarding scene one of the top in the country. We are extremely close knit, we know each other by name and boat, and we stick together. Contests are a great way to get everyone together for a great day on the water, which is often hard to do bc everyone usually is split up on various boats and lakes. Personally, I would not miss an Ambush event for my own mother’s funeral. Not because of the guys at Ambush, but for everyone who shows up to compete, and all the new people I get to meet, its just a great time.

Now, what exactly has Atlanta Inboard done for the sport. Do they sponsor a team of local riders, put them in magazines, have grass roots events throughout the summer to support the sport, keep us updated on the website of new developments. No. You do nothing. You do nothing to build the loyalty that other shops have, so don’t complain when we prefer them to you.

Im a Deadbeat.

2005-05-13T12:24:00.000-04:00

My house is scheduled to be sold by The Tax Commissioner of Fulton County for unpaid Sanitation Fees. Now, I only moved into the house a few months ago. I bought it from a bank who foreclosed on the former owner. The sanitation fees were all incurred and billed to the former owner before I bought the house. He was not paying them, though it was his responsibility to do so.

Here is where I get a little technical. Im a lawyer. Not just any lawyer however, but a lawyer who specializes in problems with title to property. I specialize even more in tax related problems in title to property. I know more about unpaid taxes and fees and their effect on property than all but a handful of people in the State.

When I bought the house, I was very careful to check that no unpaid taxes were owed. If someone did not pay their taxes, and you buy their house, the taxes become your problem. You better get them paid or your house can and will be sold. Its no defense that you didnt know about it, didnt get a bill, or that they were owed before you bought it.

All of this crap is supposed to be taken care of at closing. On top of this, I have title insurance that ensures me if any of these liens, taxes, etc. were missed by the closing attorney. Then, the insurance company pays them off. So what happened, why is my house scheduled for a sale.

This is basically a garbage bill. Before 2003, it was included in your Atlanta tax bill, which was actually collected by the County. But, it turns out, there was no authority for the County to collect garbage bills with your taxes for the City (but there is authority to collect property taxes).

So, for 2003 and 2004, the bills were sent out separately from the tax bills. Many did not get paid. Apparently, the closing attorneys were not aware that this bill was separate from taxes, and it was their job to call the City to ensure there were no delinquent garbage bills. They didnt. Of course, the City only has the former owner’s name and address on file, and sent the late notices to him. Unfortunately for me, the address was not the address of the property, so I only found out when the notice was staked to my front yard.

I immediately contacted both my title insurance company and the closing attorneys. I heard nothing from them for days. It was about this time that I started having people with connections to these companies make calls for me. I received one call that they were looking into it, that it was likely their mistake, and they would call me back to let me know how it would be fixed once they reviewed my file. Monday is the day it must be paid before significant fees kick in. Today is Friday, I have heard nothing. I have heard nothing from my title insurance company at all. This is a bad situation to be in.

Im not worried because I know how the law works, I know who screwed up, and I know how to sue them. I can do it for free. For the average people that this is undoubtably also happening too, they are screwed.. If this has happened, whatever you do, do not ignore this. If your house goes to sale it will be huge problems for you. Pay the amount owed, even if its not your responsibility.
If you do not, what you will have to pay to keep your house from being sold by the Sheriff will go from a few hundred dollars to many thousands. No kidding. This is not a screw up of the County, they are entitled to do this, this was a screw up by the closing attorney, and the person I bought the house from. However, I have to take care of it until I can make them cough up the money.

Java Vina - A brief Review

2005-05-12T15:58:00.000-04:00

Last night I dropped into Java Vino on the corner of N. Highland and Freedom. Surprise, it’s a coffee and wine bar, I know the name can throw you off a bit. I am a coffee freak, but I am much more of an alcoholic. Needless to say, I had the wine. They had several bottles priced from $6-8 a glass, which is pretty reasonable, and allows you to sample a few different glasses. But really, I wasnt blown away by the selection. Still, the glasses we had were fine.

The coolest thing about this place is the fact that you can buy green coffee beans. That means, to the four of us in Atlanta who roast our own, we have a reasonably convienent place to get green coffee. It comes from the owner’s family coffee plantation in Nicaragua (I think), which is really cool, though I know nothing about the quality at this point. Im sure its pretty good. There is nothing better than estate grown coffee. All the crap you get in stores keep prices down by blending good beans with the bad, so you are guaranteed to get crap. The only way to prevent this is to buy green straight from the grower (via US distributors of course).

Anyway, I cant wait to roast a batch. This place is obviously a coffee shop first, with a cool vibe inside. Wifi I believe, with nifty outdoor patio. Everyone there was studying something, lending further to the coffeehouse atmosphere. I have nothing bad to say about this joint, but I have yet to try the coffee. Im hoping I will be able to recommend it. I do recommend dropping in and having a drink of some sort of alcoholic beverage, you wont be disappointed. They have funky South American beer too.

AAA gets an F

2005-05-06T12:09:00.000-04:00

Ughhh, its been a while since I have posted. Its the day after Cinco de Mayo and I am hungover, and Im not really sure why I think now is a good time to start up writing. Its been a busy few weeks for me. My favorite thing to happen since I’ve been gone is when my girlfriend called me last week as I was halfway to Lake Allatoona with the always classic, “MY CAR IS ON FIRE!”

Me: “Are you sure its on fire, do you see any flames, or just smoke?”
Her: “I don’t KNOW! Its ON FIRE”
Me: “Its just overheating, but you might want to get out of the car”
Her: “I’ll call you back”

It was just overheating. As I turned around on I75 to head back down to Downtown Atlanta where she was I called (what turned out to be) the most disorganized and unhelpful auto service available, AAA. I called for a wrecker since it was free to have the car towed home, where I could then deal with it at my leisure, and still get to the lake. Oh yeah, its 5:30 p.m. on Friday, not such a great time to be in traffic. A wrecker would be there in one hour, AAA says.

I get there in 40 minutes, we wait another 30, no wrecker, I call.

AAA: “Um, we havent dispatched a wrecker yet, Im not sure why. Let me call you back”

15 minutes, no call back. I call back and hold for 10 minutes before I speak with anyone. They put me back on hold while they figure out why no wrecker has come, I am disconnected before anyone answers. We are now approaching two hours with no help from AAA. My girlfriend is has now started to cry, its getting dark in downtown Atlanta, no one is coming to tow the car. I call back to find out that THERE ARE NO AVAILABLE TOW TRUCKS, and they don’t know how long it will be now.

This is beyond comprehension. I am sitting less than one mile from the intersection of three major interstates, in the middle of the largest city in the Southeast, surrounded by millions of people, yet they cant find a tow truck to come get me. Im not stranded in the middle of the damn ocean here, it should be fairly standard for AAA to located one tow truck from the thousands in the city. No, they tell me I can do it myself if I want to. Yeah, because I have all the phone numbers here with me on the sidewalk.

At this point I decide to try to fix the damn car. After two trips to Home Depot for the right sized pliers, I fix the busted radiator tube, just over three hours into the ordeal. Which I would have done in the first place had I known AAA sucked ass and was willing to leave us stranded for over three hours in downtown Atlanta at night.

15 minutes after we leave I get a call from the tow truck driver looking for us. I tell him we have been abducted by a Mexican and a white woman in a blue van and hang up.

Ive Been A Bad Bad Boy

2005-04-07T11:26:00.000-04:00

I just got this PM from “admin” on the east Atlanta discussion forums.

“We've received several complaints about your inappropriate posts. If you submit any further posts that violate the policies of this board, we will remove you.”

First, who are these little bitches that go tattle to the “admin.” People, that is why that make PM, if you don’t like something I say, but are too afraid to call me on it in public, be a man and send me a PM.

Of course, all this stems from me calling out people on the site. Trust me, they deserve it. They either post the most idiotic things, or are criticisms of businesses in the village who deserve it too. Take Traders for instance. Nice store, been in it a few times, but the owner is a complete asshole. He has been a total dick to people on the EACA site, while using the name “traders.” That is just stupid. I have no problem with being a dick, but I will not tolerate someone who routinely promotes themselves as having done such good work for the village treating potential customers like they are stupid children. I will NEVER shop in Traders for this reason. I encourage you not to either. Just use another name. Not only is he a dick, but I think he is semi retarded, go read some of his posts, you will understand. There is nothing better than idiocy to get me on your ass.

For some reason the mods on eaca.net coddle to this type of crap. They have an unwritten, do not criticize the village or anyone in it policy. If you do, “we will remove you.” Well fuck you. Remove me, that’s why I have this blog, so people can get the real deal on whats going on in the village, what is good, and what is shit. I suggest to you, the EACA is shit. Fuckem if they cant take a joke.

2005-04-04T16:43:00.000-04:00

La Casita Cantina

www.lacasitacantina.com

Should you go? Only if you live in the neighborhood. This place does not warrant a special trip, but if you live close by, its not a bad place to get your Mexican fix. The prices are reasonable, the food acceptable, the atmosphere is nice. Its not that its Bad, its just that it could be so much better.

I judge all Mexican restaurant by two standards. First, does it hold up to Taqueiro del Sol. By far the gold standard of cheap but great food in Atlanta. All Mexican food should be fairly cheap. There is no place in Atlanta that serves better tacos, in a great atmosphere, at a great price, with fine margaritas than this place. Its not exactly Mexican because they specialize in tacos. There are a few enchiladas, and other common Mexican dishes, but its not a full on menu. For a real Mexican restaurant, can it approach the untouchable Nuevo Laredo Cantina (NLC). This place, situated on a desolate road in the middle of industrial Atlanta, routinely packs out to a two hour wait on weekends. The food is unbelievably fresh, the Margaritas have no artificial flavors, the price is typical of any Mexican restaurant (cheap), but the food is amazing.

The good news, they finally obtained their liquor licence. The bad news, the bartenders don’t know the first thing about mixing. You want to know how to make the perfect margarita, here is is. 1/3 cup cointreau or 2/3 cup Grand Marnier, the juice from 2 freshly squeezed limes, 2 teaspoons of sugar, blend with ice. For on the rocks sub a little simply syrup for the sugar. This will kick the hell out of 99% of the margaritas you get in restaurants. I don’t understand, its such a simple reciepe, yet most places insist on using limeaid instead of real limes. I don’t get it. Why, it tastes so much better with fresh ingredients. Well, LCC uses limeaid, even with premium tequila. Come on, you guys can do better than this.

The food. It aint bad, but its kinda bland. What killed me, is the cheese dip. Want to know a great cheese dip recipe, melt white american, mix in some chopped jalepenos, and possibly some butter (I skip the butter, but it tastes good). Its awesome and so easy, takes two seconds.. Meanwhile, at LLC, I see buckets labeled “Cheese Dip.” My cheese dip comes from a goddam bucket, WHAT. Its so easy to make real fresh cheese dip why would anyone order it pre-made in buckets, no wonder it wasnt very good, it aint even cheese. Come on guys, that’s not even trying. NLC and Tacquiero most certianly don’t get their cheese dip from a bucket. Or anything else. Thats why they are good and LLC is simply passable. Its not bad food, but it could easily be so much better. I just don’t understand why people compromise on quality when it doesnt cost them any more than simple attention to product.

I will be back, but only when I don’t feel like making the pilgrimage to NLC, or the short hop up to TDS.

E2 Brutus?

2005-04-04T10:27:00.000-04:00

E2 Coffee (shop? house?) has been open for a week now, and I have had the opportunity to stop in for a visit. First, I should probably give you some credentials. I am a coffee freak. Sure, everyone has a buddy that “is really into coffee.” But do they order green (unroasted) coffee beans from a supplier in California that samples coffee lots from different producers like Robert Parker samples wine. Do they roast the green coffee themselves so that they never have to drink coffee that is more than a few days old. Do they make their own espresso blends by hand. Do they modify a perfectly acceptable espresso machine to be computer controlled to maintain zero variation in temperature. Do they have a barometer in their kitchen to monitor air pressure to know the appropriate grinder setting for the perfect shot of espresso.

I don’t expect much from most coffee shops. Sure, I would love to find a place that pays attention to the details when making their espresso. Its just uncommonly rare to find someone that truly cares about coffee as a profession, rather than as a way not to starve while taking art classes at night. Is your coffee shop’s default serving container a paper cup, if so, they don’t take their coffee seriously. Do you regularly see hearts, roses, or ferns on the top of your latte? No, all you see are large bubbles of foam, then your coffee shop doesn’t take coffee seriously.

I got about what I expected from E2. A drinkable latte in a paper cup. That’s what I get everywhere except Starbucks, where you get undrinkable lattes in paper cups. In light of the fact that the coffee was not particularly remarkable, I look to the atmosphere of the place to make it worth my while. After all, I can make unremarkable coffee at home, but it’s the atmosphere that gets me out to a shop.

E2 has wireless internet, that’s good, and now pretty much a prerequisite at most coffee shops. It is adorned in standard issue coffee house colors of retro fabulous orange, brown and green colors, a few couches. But it lacks soul. I don’t know what intangible attributes make a coffee shop feel like a little slice of home, but E2 doesn’t have it. Perhaps it’s the barista’s ipod hooked up to the stereo, perhaps it’s the eclectic thrift store furniture that may have been plucked from Grandma’s estate sale. Whatever it is that makes a coffee shop inviting, E2 needs to figure it out. There is no vibe.

You Beck Your Ass I Will

2005-03-31T15:50:00.000-05:00

I have been hearing all this week about the new Beck album, and how I need to run out and buy it, and how great it is and all. I was thinking, damn, Beck JUST PUT OUT AN ALBUM that was fricking awesome, and now hes gone and done it again...Turns out, the Beck album Guerro thats been on my ipod for about 5 months now is just being released in stores. Whoops. I know I downloaded it off some newsgroup a long time ago, but usually that stuff gets released in a few weeks after being leaked on the web. I dont get why it took so long to hit the stores, but in any event, this one is worth a download (i mean, being free and all, what isnt).

The Comcast Saga.

2005-03-18T14:42:00.000-05:00

As you may know, you cant just call up and order and HDTV tuner (or DVR for that matter) from Comcast, swing up to your local Comcast office, pick it up, take it home, and set it up. Oh no, not a chance. It seems they require their own “techs” (the more precise term is “Delivery Boy”) to install it, at a fee of $30. This would all be fine and dandy if you got a reasonably intelligent custom installation. You dont. Instead, you get someone who knows to match the green plugs to green, and red to red. But knows nothing of the actual workings of an HDTV.

I got the Delivery Boy to install my HD tuner (their second try). The first time out, it was installed, the guy left, and when I turned on the set, the audio had so much static in the line, that you could not watch the TV. I called the tech (his number was on my CallerID) 5 minutes after he left, he was probably still at the light, but of course, he really is only a delivery boy and could not help me. He instructed me to call and set up a new appointment to get it fixed (read: deliver me a new box) several days later.

So, the second time around, the Delivery Boy arrives with the new box. Me, “There are two different component inputs, make sure to use the right ones for HD. Him “....” I notice that as he sets up the box, the HD signals are coming through scrambled. I also notice that (it seems to me) he sets the cable box to deliver the non HD signal, so that the picture will now display unscrambled. I wonder about this, but think, hey, he is the Tech, I shall not question his knowledge

I cant get over that the set just doesn’t look high def. I mean, it looks clear and all, but just not striking. Surely, Me, one who has only a marginal grasp of the different variations of high def signals, must be imagining things, I mean, I had the TECH, it should be perfect right. Wrong. I pull out the manual, and see that, sure enough, its set for a standard box. Goddam it.

I switch the plugs to the appropriate inputs, change the cable box to deliver an HD signal, and the picture is stunning. Apparently, all you need is about 5 minutes of looking at a manual to become a professional Comcast HD installer. Im really kicking myself for those wasted three years of law school.

Howdy Neighbor

2005-03-11T14:54:00.000-05:00

Before I moved in (which was this weekend, BTW), I read every post/article/discussion group/email list, etc regarding living in SEATs (SouthEastATlanta, recognize fool). They all warned of scams, crooks, drug dealers and the like, knocking on your door and either scamming you out of money, or just blatantly asking for a handout. I was warned, “Call 911 if someone comes to your door claiming to be your neighbor, it’s a scam,” “call 911 if you see somebody suspicious,” “call 911 first, ask questions later.” You get the idea.

Naturally, Im on constant alert, finger on the 911 speed dial at all times, peering out of my shades afraid of what might be out there. Ok, so maybe Im not that paranoid, but these things are in the back of my mind.

This morning I hear the doorbell ring. Im at home waiting on the fence contractor to show up, and think that he is just 30mins early. Flint, (the black lab attack puppy) immediately starts to go crazy, barking her ass off. Down the shotgun hallway, I see a black dude with baby dreads standing on my front porch.

Oh Shit, its on. Im about to get hit up, scammed out, or robbed of some money. Sure, I know, it’s a very stereotypical attitude to have, but come on, I live in a stereotypical neighborhood, and everything I have been reading has been warning me about just this situation. I contemplate slipping the phone into my pocket, dialing 911, and answering the door with my finger on the send button. Its too obvious, he can see me, but in the other pocket is the remote to the alarm with the panic button on its highest setting. I take the dog with me towards the door (who is still losing her mind) and feel like I can just unleash her if things go totally wrong. She wont actually do anything, of course, but it should give me the two seconds I need to hit the panic button.

ODB: “Whats up?”
Black Dude: “Yeah, Im your neighbor, I need to borrow some rope”
I knew it, this is the scam I’ve heard of. He’s not my neighbor, but he is going to try to get inside, and then threaten me until I give him some money to go away. I cant believe it, I’ve only been in the house 2 days. He must have watched me, and knows that I don’t know who my neighbors are. But Im on to him.

ODB: “oh yeah, what do you need rope for, where to do you live, who are you.”
I let the dog’s leash out a little. She is straining so hard, she is up on her back legs, she is barking and baring her teeth. The guy backs up. I make like I am pissed off (instead of scared).
BD: “next door, Im moving out of my parents house into a place of my own” points next door to a car (that I have seen before) with a mattress strapped on top.

Dammit, this guy really IS my neighbor. Great. I have just acted like total dick to my next door neighbor. Its time for some NFL style backpedaling, so I put the dog away and put on my best next door neighbor face and find him some rope. Of course, this was three days ago, and I still haven’t got my rope back, or seen the guy since. So, technically, I could have been right about this guy.

I Dont Owe You Nuthin, Ok, Maybe $10

2005-03-07T14:34:00.000-05:00

Remember last week when i bet you $20 that Comcast wouldnt show. Well, they actually showed up, with an hour to spare at that. However, they hooked up almost nothing that I originally requested. I'll try to be brief.

1. Digital TV, its hooked up. Of course, no one told me that I needed to let them know ahead of time to send out a High Def box, seeing as I have a High Def TV. Next Saturday will be the third saturday in a row that I wait for comcast. They also charge you $30 for the "install," which includes only swapping out cable boxes. They refuse to let you do this yourself.

2. They could not register my modem due to problems on their end. They promised to call within the hour to let me know when it was fixed. They never called. The next day I called them and they registered my modem over the phone.

3. Their internet is slow. i ordered the highest tiered speed (only by asking did I even find out they offered different speeds.) Its approx 1/3 slower than Charter, my old company, but they are $50 more expensive overall for the same channels/top tiered speed. This is enough to make me switch to DSL, which is supposed to up thier speeds to 3x that of cable in the near future. When they do, if the cable companies dont follow suit, I am no doubt making the switch.

4. They could not put outlest where i wanted. I needed some outlets put on different walls. Turns out, it requires a special "team." Of course, no one told me about this. The tech said someone would call me to set it up, they havent.

5. They are stupid. The guy told me that he wouldnt take my money for the install and first month since he didnt do everything i needed. That is great. They are so screwed up, that Im sure it will take months for someone to realize that they never took my money. And then I am going to raise hell about it.

Comcast sucks ass. I had no idea how good I had it with Charter. Their service and pricing is terrible. For the first time, i am seriously considering sattelite and DSL. I will let you know my decision.

On Target

2005-03-03T14:32:00.000-05:00

The new Target on Moreland in the huge Sembler development opened yesterday. You would have thought that Sembler was trying to develop a chicken processing plant there with all the whining that went on before it was built. People, do you remember what was there previously...exactly, its hard to get much worse than a huge, blighted, abandoned AGL building.

Is this a good thing? Hell, I dont know. I generally think Target is crap. But I do know that we needed all the other things coming with the Target. The Lowe's particularly toots my horn seeing as I just bought a house. I also look forward to a grocery store where I dont have to dive roll into the place to avoid the rampant gunfire.

One day I hope to have a gas station close by where I dont have to lock myself in my car and pray as I fill up.

Please Allow Myself to Introduce.....Myself

2005-03-02T13:49:00.000-05:00

I should probably let you know a little bit about my situation, so you know where I am coming from. I bought a house in Ormewood Park a few weeks ago. I bought it from the bank who had recently foreclosed on the property. The house was built around 1925, but underwent massive renovations last year. When I say massive, I mean the entire house was taken down to the studs, then the studs where replaced, walls were moved, new framing was installed, new sheetrock, floors, cielings, everything...the house is new, but also 80 years old.

Well, the guy doing the renovation apparently got in over his head, or simply had too much in the property and could not sell it for enough to cover his costs, and it ultimately went to foreclosure. That is all fine and dandy except for the fact that sometime before the foreclosure, everything that wasnt nailed down was removed from the house.

I am having to put back in every light fixture (just bare wires hanging from the cieling), both mantles, all toilets, a vanity countertop, the showerheads, two sinks, several faucets, the appliances, and even every cabinet pull, every one of them...who the hell takes the time to steal things only worth a few bucks each.

Im surprised they didnt dig up the shrubbery. The good news is that the house itself is in pretty good condition, and does not require any extensive rehab. I do live next to the shittiest house in the nieghborhood, this would be ok, except the occupants decided to paint the damn thing electric green, just so you wouldnt miss how shitty it is. What kills me is that they have bars on the windows, as if anyone would think there is something worth stealing in the house.

Choose or Lose

2005-03-02T13:45:00.000-05:00

There is a tension in what I want to do here. Part of me wants to write a more serious blog regarding the issues of the area, give updates on what I observe happening as it happens, thoughts on local business etc. Then, the other part of me wants to just write about whatever pops in my head, which a lot of times really isnt very serious or informative, but hopefully is entertaining. So basically, news v. entertainment. I dont want to choose, or more precisely, I would like to choose both.

Bear with me while I work this out.

$20 Says Comcast Doesnt Show Next Saturday Either

2005-03-01T17:59:00.000-05:00

They called today and said they were on their way to install my cable. They are suppossed to actually arrive four days from now (and also they were supposed to come three days ago as well, but didnt)...are they using the Chinese new year calendar and not telling anyone, because I cant figure out who Saturday = Tuesday. Way to be Comcast.

How to Handle Homeless People

2005-02-28T17:43:00.000-05:00

Living in East Atlanta, and increasingly, Atlanta Atlanta, means that from time to time you are going to have to deal with homeless people hitting you up for money. Sometimes, they may not even be homeless, just crackheads, and sometimes, they may just be your deadbeat neighbors. What you are going to need is a tried and true approach to dealing with these people to minimize the fear, stress, embarrassment that you may feel when approached by these bums.
Here are your options, ranked in order of effectiveness.

1. Mace them. Don’t even fricking wait for them to ask you for the money. I mean, who do you think the cops are going to believe, some homeless drug addict, or you. If anyone even cares enough to call the cops, and assuming you are stupid enough to stick around, just tell them that the bum threatened you. Mace first, ask questions later.

2. Carry some rock salt in your pocket. When approached, grab a handful on the salt and throw it on the ground. Then say, "Dammit, I just dropped all of my crack!!!" The bum will be on his hands and knees in a second picking up the salt. Give him a swift kick to the head, and off you go.

3. Tell them you would love to help them out, then ask them if they have change for a twenty. When they say no, ask what they do have. They will likely rattle some change at you, or show you a few ones. Then you say, "well, I need some cash to pay for the toll, if you give me your change/bills/whatever, you can just keep this twenty." As soon as they hand you the money, run away (but don’t give them the twenty, moron). If they chase you, just start screaming that you are being robbed. Once again, who do you think the cops are going to believe.

4. Just say no. The last thing you want to do is encourage these people. Tell them you don’t have any money, but then say you just saw some guy getting out of a Bently give (point to a nearby Bum) several hundred dollars. Sit back and watch the bum stab the other over the nonexistent money. The more often they kill each other, the less to bother you and me.

Living in the Garden of Eden

2005-02-28T17:15:00.000-05:00

My name is ODB, no, not the rapper, he is dead. I just bought a house here in Ormewood Park, in lovely East Atlanta. When I say lovely, I really mean, one day I hope its lovely, because Crack Hoes and Crack Dealers walking up and down my street isnt exactly my idea of an urban utopia.

Here you will find my views on living in East Atlanta, resturant reviews, renovations to the house, goings on in the hood, and whatever happens to be happening at that time.

Right now whats happening is this:

I found out Comcast sucks ass. I waited diligently during their scheduled three hour window of "we might show up sometime during these hours, so make sure and dont do anything else on your day off." They didnt show. Turns out, my appointment was cancelled one day after I set it up (a week in advance). The moron that answered my call miskeyed the information. Im not surprised, because it sounded like Freaknik had been reincarnated in the Comcast office when I placed my call. When they rekeyed it, it arbitrarily set up a new appointment several days later. Screw you bastards. You owe me a Saturday afternoon.