November 11th, 2003


HOTlanta HIGlights - Part I

Seeing as I am no longer paid to update my LJ all day, and that I have so much to say about this weekend in Atlanta, and that I didn't know where to begin anyway, and even though g_nice suggests I do it "chronologically with an overview intro is always a good approach. just report it as it happened and then write the overview last", I shall be posting the most memorable tidbits, snapshots if you will, of this weekend in no particular order.

Allow me to begin, however, by saying I am so happy to have had an opportunity to go visit Dale this weekend. Everything seemed to just fall into place: the flight was cheap, and the best weekend for me to come down happened to be the only weekend in a few months when Dale didn't have classes. It was one of those living reminders of how fortunate I am to have such good friends.

Friday night, after my flight landed and a lovely dinner at a Carribbean restaurant, Dale and I went to a strip club called the Clermont Lounge. Apparently Located in the basement of a halfway house (that boasts unfurnished apartments as well as furnished rooms available by the week, the night, or the hour), the Clermont is Atlanta's oldest Adult Entertainment establishment, having been in business since 1967. There were as many jackbooted Skins out front as any ska show at the old Bayou. We showed them our IDs and stepped inside.

All of the roumours we had heard about the Clermont were true. The strippers were already in full-swing. The gal on the bar was down to her hotpants, and the one hosting the private show in the corner behind our table had taken it all off for her special customer. The music was cranking out of a jukebox and a few strategically-placed speakers, and yes, each and every one of the strippers was between 35 and 65 years old and a minimum of 30 pounds overweight.

Just as our waitress brought us our cheap beers, the stripper on the bar, the famous Blondie treated the crowd to her signature crush-beer-cans-with-cans move. Later in the evening, she was at one of the nearby tables mashing a young hipster's face in her chest and literally grabbing her breasts and kind of tossing them at him, slapping the side of his head. Afterwards, like all of the Clermont strippers, she sat down for a drink and a chitchat with her now-satisfied customer.

I tried to remain calm and not laugh the entire time we were in there. While it was hilarious to me and most of the clientele, there was a twinge of seriousness to the ladies on the bar, and nevertheless, how could you laugh at a gal who was determined to keep doing what she loved 10 years after she qualified for AARP?

As soon as we were out on the street, I let it all go and laughed myself to tears. Un-fucking-believable.
  • Current Mood
    amused amused

HOTlanta HIGlights - Part II

Saturday night, after a whole bunch of stuff happened that I haven't told you about yet, Dale and I went to an improv comedy show at a theater called Dad's Garage. We ordered our tickets in advance and as a result, were able to wait away from most of the line to get in the "VIP Entrance".

A tall, thin, mousy-haired girl with a chrome pleated skirt and magenta stockings on comes up to the ticket checker and says in that everything-ends-in-a-question way, "Um, hi? We have complimentary tickets? Our friends? They like, got us in?"

Dale and I snickered at each other, but soon realized that the fun didn't end there. "oh, she's only eighteen" the fashion-plate told her friend, "but she's got a skirt on, so nobody's going to card her". She and her friend passed gems such as these back and forth to each other for a few minutes, then got confused when the ticket girl announced that the non-VIP people could go into the lobby and followed her.

Dale and I snickered on, proposing other thoughts that may be going through this girl's head. From behind us we hear, "you guys have no idea." We turn around to see the picture-perfect example of an emo chick smiling at us. "I used to work with her at Tower Records. She lasted like 3 weeks. We kept her off the floor most of the time because all she'd talk about was clubs and urinary tract infections and it scared the customers. Finally one day she comes in the back room and says 'I know why none of you talk to me. It's because I'm prettier than all of you and you're jealous' and she left that day and never came back."

For all we knew, this waste of hair could have been a nice misunderstood sweet girl. I'm eternally indebted to this emo chick for validating our prejudices and reaffirming that Dale and I are good judges of character.
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    chipper chipper