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Posts Tagged ‘Atlanta’

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. Let me share mine through music.

FRIDAY

Out Tonight
From “Rent
René and his partner Cris accompanied me for more recon for my PR project. I actually changed out of work clothes this time to go out. That’s commitment.

All Night Long
Buckcherry
There were three bands scheduled for this venue: The Sagas, Dank (formerly Dank Sinatra) and Casual Cadenza. We had an interesting conversation on the Lyft ride over about the word “credenza,” which would have been a better band name. The ride to the bar also featured this quote from Cris about my college drink of choice:

There’s nothing good at the bottom of a bottle of Boone’s Farm.

So true. Did you know they still make it? (Did you get a case of the clap from just thinking about those days? Just kidding. It was herpes. KIDDING. Maybe.)

The Sagas

The Sagas: The best band of the night. I’m bummed I didn’t take the photo before the singer took off his gold tablecloth.

Deadbeat Club
The B-52’s
I really didn’t understand the audience for many reasons. They paid to see these bands, yet they stood like recently reanimated corpses, dressed like they were going to a casting call for L.L. Bean catalog work. The men outnumbered the women at least 10-1. And all of these guys seemed like they were one drink away from switching sides.

A Toe Needs a Shoe
The Replacements
Apparently, Dank was the main attraction. I couldn’t see why, but all the stiff white people were THRILLED that this band had gotten back together after a reported six-year hiatus. In that time, they clearly did not give much thought to their stage wear for the big reunion. Or maybe they did. (That’s worse.)

IMG_1022

What is going on here? This is a true wardrobe malfunction.

Mean
Taylor Swift
When I read “Southern rock sound” in the Casual Cadenza bio, I thought I would like them. I did not. They sounded like a bad lounge band. Like I could smell Nick WintersBrut by Faberge. René should be happy he had to leave early because he had an early-morning flight.

Little T & A
The Rolling Stones
At some point in the evening, I got the booking manager’s email on a napkin (for the aforementioned PR project). I stuffed it in my bra for safekeeping. Somehow, it went missing. (I don’t know how; I promise the only hands in my bra were my own.) I got the email rewritten on a piece of register tape. It also went missing for a bit. It turned up the next morning. When I relayed this story to my “client,” my friend Simon, he called it “the Narnia Bra.” That’s bloody brilliant!

Seen in the ladies room. Nicky will what?

Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)
The Monkees
For the second time in a month, I was still in the bar when they turned the house lights on. No one looks good when the house lights come on. No one. Cris and I scuttled away like roaches.

SATURDAY

Morning has broken
Cat Stevens
Sweet mother of God, that came quickly. Got to get up, because …

Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Jack Norworth
My youngest son is into baseball. I’m not into baseball. Yet there I was at his AAA game. Early morning. So early. Bundled up, sipping coffee, hiding behind sunglasses, and waiting for the Tylenol and English muffin to kick in. The game was a nail-biter. His team was up 6-1 going into the fifth inning of six. Then the wheels came off the cart. They went into the sixth down 7-9. My son managed to score the eighth run, but then the tying run was called out at home plate. The kid looked safe to me, but what do I know?

Gideon gets ready to score.

During the game, though, the coach used that classic line from “A League of Their Own” with a couple of the kids:

Lay off the high ones!

Pumped Up Kicks
Foster the People
My sons went to a paintball party for a neighbor friend. I dropped them off then dropped my top (of my convertible — come on!). Loud singing commenced.

I love my home town.

Don’t Leave Me This Way
The Communards version
When I got home, I resumed binge-watching “Game of Thrones” with Eddie, who had just gotten home from work. I know I’m late to this party; I’m only up to season five. I said to Eddie:

I really like Davos. I guess I’d better not get too attached to him.

I’m still attached to Jon Snow. I know, I know.

Chicken Fried
Zac Brown Band
I’ve lived in the South almost my whole life. I cook all the time, yet I’ve never made chicken and dumplings. Until now. Damn it was good.

Temptation Waits
Garbage
On Friday night, the bartender’s friend told Cris and me about another live-music venue we needed to try. Cris is only in town for a few days, so we decided to check it out. We agreed to go easy; our “check liver” lights were still on. The bar looks super shady from the outside, real dive-y on the inside, but we knew immediately it would be fun.

I love this photobomber.

Don’t Stand So Close to Me
The Police
Cris and I carved out a great space for ourselves off the dance floor, protected by a long table and a load-bearing column. We could dance in peace and still watch the excellent band — the Wasted Potential Brass Band — and people in the bar. So many interesting humans. It reminded me of the George Clinton concert: a medley of shapes, ages, colors, proclivities. We heard an older man say to a younger woman, “Can I pay you?” We watched a lady pull a whole wad of money out of her own Narnia Bra. We observed one fellow creep on every single female in the place. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my waist. Guess who!

Him: You have a way of galvanizing the troops.
Me: What?
Him: You are fantastic.
Me: Um … thank you.
Him: Do you want to dance?
Me: No, thank you.

And I slid closer to Cris.

Props to Creeper for creativity in opening lines, though. Here he is with his final score and her poncho.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said to him. Yes, SHE said that to HIM. And he had just grabbed her by the hair, all caveman style!

Closing Time
Semisonic
After the band’s second set, the atmosphere changed. It happened quickly. Suddenly, patrons were sloppy and desperate. Cris and I had enough. So had these guys, clearly:

Go home, fellas.

SUNDAY

Sunday Morning
No Doubt
Oof. That is all.

The Luck You Got
The High Strung
Brunch with Brian and Cindy, two friends from high school. There’s such joy in being with people who have known you since you were a wee lass and still like you (I think).

Back in Black
AC/DC
“Black Panther” lives up to the hype. Top-notch acting, strong women, great costumes and storyline. Go see it. Drop everything.

Atomic Dog
George Clinton
Gideon and his friend Miles started a dog-walking business in the neighborhood. My older son, well … unless you can get paid for playing “Fortnite,” he’s not going to be flush any time soon.

K-9 Kids Dog Walking, $5 per dog

Celebrity Skin
Hole
Oscar party at the home of the president of my university. I’m so fancy (Iggy Azalea) that I wore a fake fur scarf I picked up at a Leek thrift shop for £2. I had a great time catching up with a friend from college (even though we got shushed by a woman who didn’t realize she was in the fun room). The host kept score from our ballots on huge pieces of paper he taped to his French doors. (Have I mentioned how much I like my job?)

Can’t wait to see what next weekend has in store. Anyone up for a mission with me? Eddie just rolls his eyes as I revert to my 20s.

Don’t “Call Me” (Blondie) because I hate to talk on the phone (Right, Trish?). Text, tweet, FB message me or comment here if you want to “Stand and Deliver” (Adam and the Ants).

See you next weekend!
Beth

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Can you hear me now? Oh yes.

Dear George Clinton,

Thank you for a great show Sunday night at the Buckhead Theatre. While I was giving up the funk, some questions came up:

  1. Where does one find the sparkly mother-of-the-bride tunic you were wearing?
  2. Is this tunic available at the same place where this accountant-by-day found these pants?
  3. Does your concert rider specifically request a swivel desk chair for your onstage breaks? (Note that I do not begrudge you your breaks. I know you are 76. I’m just asking about the chair. I think you need something more befitting a legend such as yourself, Dr. Funkenstein. A throne, maybe.)
  4. Why do you need 55 people on stage? Only 16 were singing or playing an instrument. The others were taking selfies and videos.
  5. How many songs did you actually play? I know that you started around 9 and by 9:25 you had only played two. I do love that you give the audience their money’s worth. And I can’t say that I wasn’t warned.
  6. Why was Santa in this South Town audience? Don’t you perform any farther north (or any closer to Christmas)? Shine the spotlight on him to help him find the funk. (Or am I missing something?)
  7. Why can’t music be the conduit to end racism and other social ills? Your audience was made up of black, white, old, young, straight, gay, North Pole residents, Atlanta residents  — all smooshed butt to back. We were having a party, y’all.

Still feeling supergroovalistic, thanks!
Beth

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Dear Patrons of the Bar I Visited Friday Night:

You are the reason I don’t go out much (though there are other reasons too). I needed to do reconnaissance for a PR project, so I willed myself to exit my home, collect my friend René, and head to Metalsome Karaoke: karaoke backed by a live band.

René and I get ready to rock.

 

This was our view during the karaoke extravaganza.

The night started out great, but quickly went downhill. Why?

The Drunk Girl
I’m sorry (not sorry) I had to hip check you. René nicely asked you to stop flinging yourself against me. You would not stop. And then you took the stage, and we saw that you were way past the point of reason.

The Bouncer
This guy took himself very seriously. It was like he was guarding U2. “Come on, dude,” I thought. That is, until the above tried to rape the guitarist onstage. And then I understood why the bouncer was on high alert.

The Predator
The girl in front of you clearly wanted to watch the band and “singers.” She did not want you humping her. I promise.

After a badly botched rendition of “Bitch,” by a friend of Drunk Girl, René and I decided to leave the comfort of our Stage Left perch and explore the rest of the bar.

That was a mistake.

We waded through the beer soup on the ground floor up the stairs to find two more floors of sweaty bodies. All the guys were short, aging, puffy frat boys. Exhibit A:

Yet the women were Size Zero model wannabes. Exhibit B:

The men outnumbered the women three to one. And there were so many people! There had to have been fire code violations.

Me trying to get out of the bar

When we finally made it through the press of bodies and landed outside on the sidewalk, I apologized to René. He looked over his glasses at me and said:

And that’s why I don’t go to straight bars.

Got it.

Still drying out my shoes,
Beth

* Reference for title

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Some friends of ours returned from Abu Dhabi for the summer, and wanted to take a family trip to Atlanta.

It was an opportunity we could not refuse.

We stayed at the Hilton Garden Inn because of its proximity to the places we wanted to visit, and because Hilton was offering a package called “The Great Getaway” that offered free breakfast. Sign us up!

Here are the places we visited:

In addition to all the wonderful beasts of the waterways, the aquarium also has a whale slide. Billy, who is not a small man, decided he would try it out. Dominic said, “The whale’s gonna choke!”

Gideon and Mana enjoy some alone time.

It’s less a museum and more an educational Monkey Joe’s. Lots of screaming, running, banging, etc. And the kids made noise too (ba-dum-dum). Let’s just call it “collaborative learning.”

Gideon plays with the moon sand.

That place seemed so much bigger (and cooler) when I was an elementary school kid on a field trip. We saw the Galaxy Gameshow at the planetarium. I think the kids enjoyed it, but I don’t really know. I was asleep. And so were the other three adults. In fact, Eddie said as we left, “So we paid $12 for a nap?” Yes, yes we did.

Fernbank is to the American Museum of Natural History as CitiTrends is to Henri Bendel.

It’s my favorite mall in Atlanta, and I used to work in one of the clothing stores when I was in college. (I won’t say which store because it is just too embarrassing, even for me). We weren’t really there to shop, though. I had to get the hinge on my MacBook Air fixed. While I was doing that, everyone else ate ice cream.

The screaming stopped when they got ice cream.

This is my favorite hotel in the world, and I love this restaurant. It’s a little pricey, but it is worth it for the view.

Lunch over Atlanta

On the way there, I noticed this sign.

Only in the South, y’all.

No visit to Atlanta is complete without a naked dog with cheese, fries and an FO (Frosted Orange). Of course, then I slip into a grease-induced coma, but I don’t care.

The plan was to go to The Old Spaghetti Factory (cheesy but yummy and cheap) but it was closed. (For those of you keeping count, that’s the fourth of my favorite restaurants that has closed in the past year. Am I bad luck?) So we went across the street to Mary Mac’s. Despite it being an Atlanta landmark, I had never eaten there. It is Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room and The Lady & Sons restaurant in a larger environment. A butter-induced coma ensued.

  • The hotel pools

There were two pools — one outdoor, one indoor — and a jacuzzi. With five kids in the party, though, there are bound to be time-outs, even at the pool. The award for Best Actor in a Dramatic Role goes to my son Gideon for his role in “Pool Party, Pity Party.”

Time-out, party of four

I found another lovely sign here also.

Does the “mangement” handle identifying the “persons with communicable diseases” using the pool?

Overall, it was a fun trip, but also very exhausting. I think Dominic would agree.

All tuckered out

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