that's my story and I'm sticking to it

For you coworkers that read: I was sick this morning and that's why I didn't come in until 1 pm. And that's the story I'm sticking to.


In other news, I went to see RENT at the Fox yesterday afternoon with my Dad. We were on the 4th row and it was awesome. The first several songs were really shaky and I was not looking forward to the rest of the show, but the cast shook off their hangovers and the rest was terrific.

We went to Mary Mac's Tea Room for lupper. For you non-Southerners, lupper is lunch and supper. Mary Mac's walls are covered in photos of famous people eating there. There's even a room dedicated to Jimmy Carter. It's pretty awesome. What's more awesome: my photo hangs on the wall there. I was about 13, wearing my signature babydoll dress and combat boots. I was going to take a picture yesterday but there was a party in the room in which my photo hangs and I couldn't get in there. I had chicken livers (the best I've ever had!), butter beans, and squash casserole. My mom's squash casserole is WAY better. The Mary Mac's one was way to egg-y. I mean, I ate it. I'm just sayin', my mom's is better.

And then I met up with Jay at Blake's. Blake's is a gay bar in Atlanta. Now, I don't mind hanging out in an establishment where I might as well be wallpaper paste, that's actually how I prefer it. I'm just saying: even at 6 in the evening on a Sunday, the gays are out in droves. The place was packed. Not nearly as packed as last Sunday night, but it was certainly headed that way. Then we decided to head on over to The Flying Biscuit, Jay was jonesing some fried chicken (which they incidentally don't serve), and even though I was totally and completely stuffed from my Mary Mac's indulgence, I got some grits and a biscuit. I LOVE grits. Love Love Love Love. Bacon and grits. Cheese and grits. Salt and Pepper and grits. Eggs and Grits. If it's savory, I'll eat it with grits. I even had cajun grits and shrimp at the tapas bar (try saying tapas to people and NOT let them think you said topless. Go ahead. Try. I dare you.) for Susan's batchelorette party.

But that's enough about food. Jay and I hung out until it was time for me to head to The Earl. I, the admittedly self-proclaimed in-the-know go-to girl for Atlanta music, have actually never been to The Earl. I learned why last night. I rolled on up in that piece (thanks, Paul, for getting that particular phrase stuck in my head) around 945 or so. It's in the still sketchy East Atlanta. Didn't feel safe and inside, well, it's really dark. Super dark. People were in the front bar drinking and watching sports on TV. I then realized the music room was down this long hallway. I paid my admission and entered.

To 15 people standing around. The band Via Audio was playing (I got their CD. I can't decide if I like it or not, but it's certainly thought provoking and on that platform I like it and can support it). They were rocking 80's style sunglasses, tank tops, and one had on a fluorescent pink hat. I, however, did decide they were toe tap worthy. So I found an empty stool and tapped along with the rhythm, sporadically smiling at their turns of phrase and frenetic playing ("Hey girl, look me in the eye. I want to make babies with you."). I was half listening waiting to meet my "friend"--see definition of friend here, Phillip. He's the drummer of this band I've become obsessed about after I found them online, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. Their songs are infectious, youthful, poppy (infusing the style of music described as Pop, not having anything to do with the flower with possible psychotropic properties), and above all else the lyrics are smart. I like smart lyrics. The first song of theirs I ever listened to was Pangea that contains this gem: Pangea, we used to be together, why'd we have to drift apart? So, on their website they posted their email address. So I emailed them last April the day after they had played Atlanta. I didn't hear anything from them until this past January. Phillip responded and said they had been on tour (they got to play in Russia before Boris Yeltsin died! how cool. how rock.) and admittedly didn't check their email that often. We created quite a rapport and it ended up that we swapped phone numbers and since I saw they were playing Atlanta in April I offered to take them out to eat for a proper Southern dinner. Traveling musicians, especially young unknowns like SSLYBY, often get neglected and I wanted them to be shown a proper time.

Anyway, I met Phillip. He looks 12. But that's neither here nor there. (sidenote: my iTunes is regaling me with Always by Bon Jovi right now. I had a dream I started an aquarium with robot fish with Jon Black last night and I was totally dating 80's big hair Jovi. It was glorious.) Back to SSLYBY. All five of them got on stage and it was good. Very good. I even stood up. I moved closer to the stage (I'm a very confident person, yet when I go to shows alone, I become quite shy and I want to blend in.) and got out my camera. Which after about 25 shots told me the battery was dying. Whatever. It was still a good show. And the only Gay in this dark, dank, very white and straight bar found me. He was very drunk. And 44. And named Bill. Or Bob. I can't remember. All I know is that even though he was/is gay, he kept looking down my shirt. It was awkward. And he kept telling me that he felt weird about being a Boris fan because he was obviously like 20 years or more their senior.

I tried to tell him it didn't matter, but then he started talking about someone named Layla. Thankfully he went to the bar to get another beer and I sidled more into the now 70+ crowd hoping he'd forget about me.

They played an excellent set, I gave them some road food from TJ's, and we parted with Phillip telling me that he loved me in his exuberant pre-teen voice (someone in the band has to be at least 16 so they can drive across the US...and I saw one drink from the bar...so, maybe they just look young. Hopefully they didn't drop out of middle school. But come to think of it, I learned about Pangea in middle school. Coincidence?) and then in a very rushed in excited tone told me of his love of Rebuilt Records (we had discussed Rebuilt during our emails) and of his love for Micah Dalton (who can blame him?!), and if anyone at Rebuilt is playing anywhere in Missouri, he can get them shows and they can definitely stay with him in Springfield. How sweet. So very sweet. I really enjoyed my evening. I drove away in the rain smiling.

Alas, it's five pm. And I must job jump. I will update tomorrow with photos and my hang out time with the famed Micah Dalton. Oh, and the homeless man demanding that I recognize him as we have apparently met before.