This town has hit the crapper. I know I’m getting old, but norwegian please. This town used to be so cool. Todd and I were walking downtown and heard a band play. This used to be a natural occurence in Athens, but I reakized it isn’t anymore.  Used to be you could go drink at the High Hat, Ratskeller, Half Moon, Washington St, 283. Those days are over. If you are over 25 you drink ikn the goddamn ghetto. I feel like a jew in ‘38. I think it’s obscene that my town has been so segregated.  I’d be depressed but it just looosens my bowels.

Yes indeedy, the first whiff of SoCo and lime is in the air, can you just smell it on the wind? As I was tootling around town in the Honda (’88.) I saw it, one lane over,Ford F-150, Cobb county plates, W the president sticker on the back. I’ll tell you what I saw in the back of that mighty Ford. I saw a cheap ikea desk, a mattress and box-spring, a papazan chair, and some collapsible bookshelves. Gird your loins my friends, cause this shit is about to be on! I’m seriously considering having gameday parties at my house for all my friends who have retired from the service industry in the last year or two.

smooches and shitty fake ids!

s

Got film from my Diana camera developed, so so. But I dodn’t expect much.  Apparently though, I shake like a bastard, I could give up caffeine or/and alcohol, or I can by a tripod. Tripod, anyone?

I’m in a weird strangely satisfied mindset. It’s nice. It seems like everyone around me is in the middle of a personal storm. It’s nice to be centered for a while. Just got back from NYC, which is always a good way to gain perspective. My new Holga Diana+ should arrive tomorrow.

The possibilities are ENDLESS. I love LOMO.

Gonna take Max to the vet, pick up my camera, renew my Sam’s club, (they’re the only ones who process medium format) and take a TON of cool pictures.

Can’t wait.

Just happy to be me. And Max is turning 5 in 2 weeks.

I’m on my way back to NYC…..and the “oy!” was not a jewish slur, but more of a “fuckballs! not only do I still have to pack, but I have to wash all the clothes first….damnit. Packing stresses me out.  And I always overpack. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Max has I do believe settled in nicely. After a delightful trip to the vet, where it was determined that he has “combination skin” (yeast and two types of bacteria) and knees that pop in and out of joint, he’s on more meds than my Nana. The good news, he takes pills like his parents, very willingly.  I feel like the Bad Cop, I’m the one cleaning his ears, squirting his drops in and pumping him full of pills, making him sit with his medicated shampoo (leave on for 5-10 minutes), then slathering him with Creme Rinse (it can be used as a leave in or styling product). This of course leaves Todd as Good Cop, sneaking him fries and standing over him during his bath, saying, “this sucks for you”. But, with Bad Cop badge comes a little respect. Todd time is Play Time, which means, anytime is play time. Max it seems enjoys the tobacco, and so does Todd. So Max likes to snarffle/lick every drop of tobacco/nicotine residue/sweat off of Todd’s hands and face. HA! He’ll curl up and sleep next to me, but it’s a constant hand/neck rape for old Shotgun. I feel vindicated, and his sweet little sighing snore makes it all worth it. Actually, him waking Todd up for some Nicotine Necking makes it all worth it.

I FINALLY convinced Mr. McB (or Sally as I like to call him sometimes) that we do indeed need a dog. He’s hemmed and hawed and finally said, “just get one and apologize to me later, that’s what I’d do.” (Yes, married life, nothin like it). So Craig’s list and asking around, finally produced Max, Maximus the Entertainer, if you’re nasty. We went to meet him, he’s fabulous, he loves cigarette smoke/smell, and McDonald’s french fries. He is 4 years old and he likes to spin around in circles and pace, He’s gonna love it with us. Todd and I went to meet him Friday and are completely in love with him and would have snatched him away from Helen and Ron then and there if I thought I could do it without it seeming rude.

He’s coming home for good in the next week or so.

Could he BE any fucking cuter!!!!!

I fear my cleaning bender is slowly rolling to a stop. I’ve got new goodies fromMrs. Meyers, so everything is smelling DELICIOUS. A yard sale has been planned and already rescheduled. Nobody is going to a yard sale the weekend of Criterium and the NCAA Gymnastics championship. boo.

It was a long weekend, and I’m pretty positive I made an ass out of myself saturday night at the 40watt. I have a feeling that thankfully I was eclipsed by the Mister. I do dread that the excessive “Teacher of the Year Drunk” will make people run the other way when they see us coming. Perhaps it’s best to lay low for a bit. As with these situations, I usually fear the worst, and as long as you don’t piss on anyone’s shoes or tell them their mother is a whore (and have the photos/video to back it up) you’re golden. 

I feel an ikea trip coming on but perhaps I should wait til after the yard sale. I’m trying to maintain a “one thing in, two things out” mentality for the house. and Ikea could blow that all to hell. Maybe I’ll stick with the plants. They stay on the porch, so it’s cool. I also want to keep the clutter down cause I’m looking for a dog, something small but not yappy. Todd has relented to getting a dog, “I don’t want to get a dog, but you just get one and apologize to me after, cause you know I’ll love it.” So ha fucker, we’re getting a dog! I did make one promise, that it wouldn’t be a puppy, one piss and shit factory in the house is one a plenty. So, anyone know of an under 30 pound dog that needs a good home, let me know.

Gonna do some hair, and then me and Mrs. Meyers are getting wasted on cleanliness.

woot!

I always say I’m not gonna throw money into the dirt, and buy a bunch of gardening stuff, and plants, because I get lazy and the of course die. But fuck it. I did. I’ve been “pimping my porch” for the last week or so. Patio furniture clean, I emptied out all the dead plants and got the rest of the junk off the porch, swept, MOPPED (hells yeah) and generally spiffied up the joint. I’ve hung matchstick shades across the porch, so if the sun is to much for my delicate nature I can pull the shades down. I’ve also strung a thing of chinese lanterns (square) across the porch, so it’s lit oh so fabulously.  So of course all it needed was some greenery. SO off I went to Lowe’s and Big Lots (for planters) Basil, Purple curly basil, two types of arugula, Lavender, phlox, snapdragons, pincushion something or other and hydrangeas. AND Julie and I are headed out to Thyme after thyme and Goodness grows tomorrow. YAY, I need a more fragrant porch, scented geraniums and other yummy things. I just picked up a Southern Living container gardening magazine, so, you know that’s a big vial of mental crack.  Basically all of this leads up to me sitting on my porch drinking absolut and apple juice, Absolut and basil/lemon gimlets (oh SOOOOOO good) and eating cheese, basil and fresh bread.  UNFORTUNATELY, the cleanest most spiffy room in my house right now is my front porch, the bathroom is pretty great, everything else is so-so. I’m all up on some Mrs. Meyers cleaning products, so my goal for the weekend, is to knock out the dining room and start having people over. For now, I must watch some Top chef, later turds! (will post pics later)

 New York Day 1

So, Nathan and Joseph were to arrive at my house, this morning bright and early at 6am, so we could pick up Chance get to the ATL and get on an early flight.

I woke up at 5:47am. FUCKBALLS (the theme for the day)

I still had to pack toiletries, electronics and get dressed. I was PRAYING they’d be late, but alas, right on time. What the hell is that about. So as I’m frantically running back and forth looking for socks, so as not to contract HEP C or ringworm, FUCKBALLS let’s just go. It was like the keystone cops trying to cram a hybrid full of luggage for two divas and two queens. Well traveled ones at that. So, off we go, Full trunk, suitcase in the backseat, suitcase in the front seat with Joe.

Obviously, at this point caffeine is not only required but, medically necessary. So why not hit the starbucks? Well, of course it’s the Lord’s day and Jesus don’t like no jacked up folks on the sabbath.

So whilst Nathan nearly drove old Clarence through the front window of the Starbucks, we spied the Golden Arches next door. Tires screeched and fists shook at an innocent Starbucks employee.

Let’s talk about the McDonald’s experience.

We hit the drive thru, and of course we’re all shits and giggles, did I mention that Chance was still drunk on “Sweetberry Wine”? Well, considered it mentioned. Nathan and I averaged 3 hours of sleep between the two of us, and Joe….well Joe hadn’t started drinking yet, so I took that as a good sign.

Chaos ruled at the drive thru, coffee, cream 3 sugar 1, sausage mcgriddle (seems like such a bad idea on paper and in person) and coca colas and chicken biscuits. We pull up and pay, all is well. Then we drive up to the second “pick up window” Our window operator was of Latin descent and a whole diatribe about men of a certain region and bad highlights ensued. A coke got spilled all over Nathan and Clarence (the hybrid), we got our food, tried to clean up our boys and then Joe realized he was one McGriddle short of happiness. So, Nathan threw the car in reverse and backup up to the drive thru. Our highlighted friend had disappeared, obviously as we speculated to go smoke a big fat joint in the back, cause god knows if I was working the window at a McD’s at 6am, I’d be high as hell. No Luck, so Joe, determined, jumped out and ran to the first drive thru window, and after a few frantic minutes waved someone down. Breakfast was pretty vile. But the caffeine, glorious. We basically spent the next hour cracking each other up, and sassing each other out.

So we get to the airport and find a parking space, after we realized the shuttle driver was not trying to fuck us up cause we’re white.

On the shuttle, into hartsfield, to meet a new friend, TYRONE.

Tyrone, Someone better call Tyrone and tell him to fucking WAKE UP. Slowest line, slowest dude, EVER. I probably could have smuggled a bomb on the plane, he asked us for ID as an afterthought, as in “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna need to see id…..for all of you.” after he’d put our bags through and booked us on the plane. “You don’t have any firearms or anything, do you?” No, Tyrone, but I got a colon full of black tar heroin, and a machete in my cardigan. But, ya know, I’m a safety girl. So Tyrone also is kind enough to laughingly inform us, that we are NOT getting on an earlier flight, seeing as due to weather, Airtran is still getting folks out of Atlanta from FRIDAY. fuckballs. FUCKBALLS. At this point we are slowly realizing, that we will not be leaving Hartsfield till 3pm, it’s 8:45am, at this point, Tyrone lovingly put us on the standby for the 9:20 flight, by the time we got through security it was 9, by the time we got from check in to terminal C it was, well, it was 9:21. and, we knew it wasn’t happening. I personally LOVE airports, I love people watching, drinking overpriced beverages of the adult nature and generally mocking others semi-quietly. WELL, Jesus hates all of the above. It’s is again, Sunday, and blue laws give me blue balls!

We realize, not only are we trapped physically until 3, but we are emotionally and PHYSICALLY trapped in a SOBER state until 12:30. thanks Jebus, thanks Sonny.

So we wait, everyone stretches out and naps, I play a little Snood (it’s awesome, I wasn’t mentally ready for the strain of Cake Mania) and we people watch. I want to start up a game of Airport Dare- but we were to scary looking at this point to actually go up and interact with people. Had we, it would’ve probably ended up with at least a few of us in a small grey room, and a certain Vaseline “howdoyado” if you catch my drift(and I know you do)

here were our dares

1. Find someone sitting with empty seats all around them, sit uncomfortably close to them, stare them down until they look at you, then lean over and whisper “Don’t get on that plane”

2. Go up to a woman, who is OBVIOUSLY NOT pregnant, point to her and ask “How much for the baby” when she says “I don’t have a baby” point knowingly at her belly and say,”No, the one in THERE.”

I’m sure we could have come up with more acts of daring hilarious genius, but we all have short attention spans, and we saw a Michael Jackson video, Thriller era, and we decided we should bust out some J-5 dance moves, then we realized

a. There were only 4 of us

b. NOBODY wanted to be Michael

So Nathan is Tito, Joe is Marlon, and I didn’t decide who would be Jermaine, me or Chance, and I couldn’t remember the 4th Jackson, but now, I’m pretty sure it was Jackie.

Nathan, had decided that his new phrase du jour, is “Well, you can fuck right off then!” with fist a shaking.

Joe saw an old woman he wanted to put in his pocket, she looked like a 12 year old backpack included. Chance almost raped an old man at a water fountain. I saw a beetle bailey look alike in a G-Unit shirt, he was so white and slack jawed I snorted as I walked by.

So we decide, after Joe’s expedition of C-terminal to try the Sam Adams “brew house” it was around noon at this point, we walked down there and they had all the seats at the bar up against it, Jesus really is omnipresent. So we decide to wander slowly back to the other end of C to the Miller Light sponsored “Victory Lane” It looked like an ersatz locker room of sorts, the only seats were at the bar and the seats were NOT pushed against the bar, it’s a little after 12 at this point, we asked the “super enthusiastic” barkeep, if we could sit at the bar for lunch “NOT until 12;30″ oooohhhh hospitality. It was around this time, that we all began to realize that maybe the “locker room/athletic” theme was not a fake, because that place positively REEKED of piss and PICKLES.

So we skeedaddled back to Sam Adams, the idea of our little foursome being called the “Piss Pickle Gang” was not well received, go figure. SO we sat at a gate near the Brew House and waited.

Nathan decided he needed to releive himself, we had already warned each other about bathroom ettiquette and tap dancing in one’s stall. As Nathan was headed into the Men’s room Chance called out, “Make a new friend in there!!!”

Nathan safely returned to us, solo, and he and I settle in to a nice bit of people watching. (Side note, Delta gates have these fucking rad benches that make excellent ottomans)

Joe and I noticed an unusually high count (for this time of year, and quite honestly, the day of the week) of Manmel Toe. Younguns, olduns, middleagedspreaduns, dudes want you to know what’s what apparently. It was, well, it made me uncomfortable, quite frankly. Here I am, patiently waiting for the OK from the big guy upstairs to get a fuckin drink, and I got mancrotch all up in my face, what gives fellas?? WHAT GIVES? Cause I’ll tell you what doesn’t have any give left in it, the crotch of your pants, that’s it, it’s done. Look in a fucking mirror, if it looks like you’re working a play-doh fun factory in the front of your 501’s have the decency to at LEAST untuck your shirt. There were CHILDREN all over the place, and they are NOT TALL.

So we walk into the Sam Adams, at 12:34 and EVERY SEAT at the bar was taken (no shit).

Nacho Volcanoes, cheeseburgers and booze later and everyone is feeling alright, It’s amazing what fatigue and dehydration can do to stretch your alcohol dollar,

We eventually headed back to our home away from home Gate C-11. Nathan and Chance settled down on the floor to sleep (Sorry Nancy, you raised her well, she was just really tired) Joe got on the phone and I stretched out on a row of seats. I thoroughly enjoyed my respite, I made a quick on the go playlist on my itunes of Billy Bragg and Wilco, Lyle Lovett, and Slobberbone, nothing better than having a good friend sing you to sleep, well I mean, Elvis Costello or Lyle Lovett would be, but you do whatcha gotta do. Sorry Brent!