the one who writes

So, being the concerned parent that I am I thought it would be a good idea to start taking the Luke to the zoo, museums and the like. Oy vey! A quick survey of the costs made it clear that pretty much anything cultural is well beyond our pocketbook. Then I found out that Bank of America customers have a free pass on the first weekend of each month. Of course, the two that we’d most like to attend, the zoo and the Fernbank, are no longer on the list. So, we have the choice of a one time zoo trip at approximately $50 for the three of us. Or join for $100. The Fernbank’s prices are similar. And don’t even get me started on that clip joint they call an Aquarium. Am I crazy or are those prices unbelievably steep. And why don’t they have a pass that folks can buy to get into all the events and such? The Atlanta City Pass is a one-time deal. Other cities have passes for its citizens to get into all the cultural events. Apparently down here in the Confederacy culture is limited to those of means. Can you tell I’m feeling a bit salty about this. Yeah, we’ll cough up the money to at least join the zoo, but damn, I’m sick of this town.

And so this was the view out my front picture window this afternoon. Got a couple inches of snow in the AT-HELL.  Stayed in, finished my latest story and had a yummy chili dinner.

Luke had so much fun, this was his first snowfall. I wish it had lasted longer. Watching him enjoy it was a joy to behold.

Shopping in Atlanta is really strange. The nearest Wal-Mart to me is in Chamblee. It’s what I call the ‘international’ Wal-Mart. If you’re looking for ingredients for any world cuisine you’ll find it there. They also have the top-notch  olive oil and a produce section that’s out of this world. Unfortunately, they’re not much for toiletries and such. Well, they are, but they’re all in Spanish. No, for that, you have to go to the other Wal-Mart. Totally whitebread. No signs in Spanish, and certainly no queso fresco. But man can you find some topnotch wine and toiletries for days. This is more than a bit annoying. Why can’t I have both in one Wal-Mart. 

Then today, I discovered the Nirvana of toiletry stores, Target on Holcomb Bridge Road. No, not the one in Peachtree Corners/Norcross. I’m talking about the brand-spanking new on in Roswell/Alpharetta. That’s where I finally had success in finding ‘boy wash’ for Luke. One of the perils of teaching him to read. He now knows that I’ve been using ‘baby wash’ and it’s just intolerable for him. 

That’s another strange thing about this area; tiny counties. In a day of marketing I typically shop in no less than three counties and I never travel more than ten miles. Isn’t that peculiar. Oh well, just another day in the AT-HELL.

Atlanta should go down in history as the shake-down capital of the southeast. Never mind how ridiculous it is that we’re buying another tag after just having bought one when we moved here in June. Never mind that said tag costs almost $100 for a ten-year old car. But for the love of all things chocolate chip smothered in dark chocolate ganache (can you tell I started a new diet?) would we have to have another emissions test done???? What in the the hell do they think we did to the damned cars in less than six months. I’ve got to, got to, got to get the hell out of this place before I shank somebody. Seriously. 

I’ve never in my life been to a place where they nickel and dime you this way. Some might say, well $25 for an emissions test isn’t bad, and they’d be right. But when you move here, you don’t calculate that into your new expenses. Just like you don’t calculate the fee for recycling, or the cost of recyclable lawn bags. Back in Huntsville the leaf removable folks had vacuum trucks that just sucked the leaves up from your pile. Every time you turn around there’s another fee for something. Seriously, just charge a $500 admission to the city at the border and call it a goddamned day. I hate being nickeled and dimed.

I’m planning to do a post on both down low and barely hetero dudes in the near future, but meantime I saw a post on another site asking why they’re so many down-low guys in the ATHELL. I thought the point of the DL is that nobody would know. How can it be downlow, if people know? And how would you know unless you’re sleeping with them? Hey, I’m just asking.

No one was more excited, nay elated by our recent historical election. I must confess though, that by the time it finally arrived I was heartily SICK of the whole process. Honestly by the time it was over I was ready to dig my own eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. Now, as if my Babylonian Exile weren’t bad enough I have to endure another week of campaigning. Yes, Jim Martin and Saxby Chambliss apparently have me on auto-dial and I’m receiving calls from both sides. That’s in addition to the television commercials. Aaarrrgghhh!!!

Thus far I’ve received calls from the O-Man himself, Andrew Young and a Civil Rights activist who’s name I can’t recall at the moment. I haven’t heard from any Republican celebrities. Apparently they prefer to harass anonymously. I just want it to end. Pretty please with sugar on top?

Y’all know I love you like a play cousin. Your mix of old school R&B is one of the few things that make my Babylonian exile bearable. (For a bougie over-priced hellhole, Atlanta has some FIERCE radio stations!) I listen to you constantly, especially while driving. But seriously, you’ve got to warn a sister when you break into a mix of Change is Gonna Come and Obama’s speech. You especially can’t play it when I’m driving. You know I’m driving challenged. The worst of it is that I was on Holcomb Bridge Road. Nothing worse than dying on a street with your name on it. Bound to make the freaky ass coincidence news. So, from now on, give me a heads up. And BTW, can I have that cut?

I’ve been mildly claustrophobic all my life, but it’s definitely getting worse with age. (What, you thought there was something that gets better with age? Yeah, right.) Yesterday, I was lost in downtown Atlanta for approximately an hour. I had forgotten my cell phone at home, and besides I had no one to call to help anyway. Whit doesn’t know the area any better than I do. The streets are very narrow, and with the buildings looming overhead, I had to use Lamaze techniques to head off a full-fledged panic attack. It’s almost a day later, and I’m still shaky and queasy. I feel like such a punk, but there’s not a whole helluva lot I can do about it. 

Fortunately Luke was in the car with me, or I probably would have simply pulled over and started screaming on the side of the road. I’ve lived in lots of places over the years, and Atlanta is hands-down the most difficult to navigate in. Everyone keeps telling me to get GPS. Two problems: I’m not exactly good with technology. And two, I don’t have the money to buy a gadget to help me get around this city. Here’s a rational thought: Why the hell can’t they simply put up street signs that are actually legible? Why can’t they do like many cities do and place street signs to indicate the next street before you get to it? If you’re going to have six lanes of traffic going in 5011 different directions you might want to put up signs in a large enough font to be legible. I’m still freaked out by what happened, and no, I won’t be venturing back downtown anytime soon.