Propeller Skies

Last night I attended a wine tasting, put on by the Schmooze, at eleven50. In contrast to Wednesday night’s adventures, this was a very laid back and mellow event. Despite the lack of verbiage dedicated to the event, Smoove D recommends the Schmooze.

The event took place on eleven50’s outdoor patio, which they call Eden. Ten years ago, Eden was most likely quite swank and the epitome of design. Today, it is tired, dingy, tawdry, and cheap looking. The boring cement floor could use an update and the fountains need a fresh coat of paint. The imitation tropical resort style outdoor bars are just downright ugly.

If the Eden in Christian mythology was even close to as miserable as the patio, I would have eaten every apple on the tree to ensure I was kicked out. Head over to Compound to enjoy a top-notch outdoor patio experience. And say “Hi” to The Stimulator while you are there.

notes:

PHOTO: Random revelers attending the Schmooze at eleven50 in Midtown, Atanta, GA. May 27, 2004. Courtesy of d.2263 Photographics. View more Schmooze Wine Tasting photos.

I arrived at Tin Roof with recurring Propeller Skies characters John and Sanket. We were there to drink heavily. Lucky for us, Wednesday Night Drinking Club was having their monthly event there.

After a quick stop to grab a drink, I got on the job and started photographing. Thanks to prior misadventures at Halo, I do not remember a whole lot more. Apparently, there was a large crowd there and I took several pictures. I know this, because I saw them today. Surprisingly, most of the pictures are pretty good and only a few turned out badly. In conclusion, the Wednesday Night Drinking Club always throws a great party.

Finally, I caught a ride home from recurring Propeller Skies character Stacia.

Tin Roof is one of my favorite places to hang out. The staff is always friendly and they ensure that glasses are never empty long. Also, the Tin Roof seems to attract a very mellow and somewhat mellow clientele that makes chilling there a pleasure.

notes:

PHOTO: Random revelers attending WNDC at the Tin Roof Cantina in Midtown, Atlanta, GA. May 26, 2004. Courtesy of d.2263 Photographics. View more Wednesday Night Drinking Club at Tin Roof Cantina photos.

Wednesday night, I started the night with Arts Safari at Halo. The crowd was very mellow and somewhat small.

While there, I ran into the vegetarian and chatted with her a bit, until she wandered off to hang out with her pet lawyer. I then chilled a bit with Pete and Jeff, who I met at a previous Arts Safari event.

Four or five Martinis later and I was headed to Little Azio for dinner and then on to Tin Roof for more drinking with recurring Propeller Skies characters John and Sanket. The food at Little Azio sucked beyond belief. I was loaded and I did not like it at all.

notes:

PHOTO: Random Revelers attending Olives & Twists at Halo in Midtown, Atlanta, GA. May 26, 2004. Courtesy of d.2263 Photographics.

Automobile mechanics are quite possibly the stupidest people on the planet. The fuckwads at a certain repair shop on Northside Drive (I will name them once I get my car back in one piece*) have now had my car for over a week. For the benefit of those of you who do not know, I had it towed there last Tuesday morning when the transmission gave out.

The first sign of impending doom was when it took them TWO DAYS to figure out the transmission was broken. I knew that when the car would not go any faster than 30 mph, that is why I called a fucking TRANSMISSION REPAIR SHOP.

This afternoon, I called to check on the status of the repairs, since it had been a week. I would think that a transmission repair shop, where all they do all day, every day, is REPAIR TRANSMISSIONS, would be capable of repairing a transmission in a week. I would be thinking wrong. I was told that the transmission and torque converter had been rebuilt. However, they were waiting for one final part that was missing from the rebuild kit and were having trouble finding it. Since I drive a Model-T Ford and parts for those just are not manufactured anymore, I was not at all surprised by this. Just kidding. I drive a Grand Cherokee, just like several hundred thousand other people in this town and Chrysler is MAKING MORE OF THEM EVERY FUCKING DAY. So it should not be a problem to get the damn part. Morons.

For any of you who are auto mechanics and are offended by this post, feel free to suck my fucking cock. And swallow. Assholes.

notes:

* assuming I ever get my motherfucking car back, which is a mighty big assumption given past performance.

Since Mexico is hot as fuck most of the time, it is likely that Mexicans know a thing or two about summer cocktails. Therefore, we looked south of the border for inspiration and found the Diablo.

Technically this drink is not Mexican, since it was actually invented in California. However, since the primary spirit is Tequila, for the purposes of the Smoove D Search for the Official Cocktail of Summer it will be considered Mexican. This is a fairly modern drink, although it is alleged that Trader Vic’s was serving them as early as the 1940s.

In contrast to the previously discussed Singapore Sling, the Diablo recipe has remained constant over the years and consists of only four ingredients that include tequila, creme de cassis, lime juice, and ginger ale. These four ingredients mix well and result in a complex, yet tasty, libation. Lime juice provides a sour counterpoint to the sweetness of the creme de cassis. Additionally, the liqueur and juice tame the harsh edge of the tequila. Ginger ale adds an extra layer of complexity.

notes:

PHOTO: Diablo. Courtesy of Green Chicken Associates.

I stopped by the Hair of the Dog event at Park Tavern this afternoon. Thanks to Nicky for making this possible by lending me her car.

As usual for Hair of the Dog events, there were plenty of beautiful babies in attendance. For that reason, this is one of my favorite groups in Atlanta. Additionally, they are very photographer friendly.

In contrast to their usual social events, this one had a twist. Because Park Tavern allows dogs in the grassy section next to the park, people were encouraged to bring them and most did.

Soon after arriving at the event and grabbing a beer, I ran into Kim, who is part of the host committee. We chatted a bit and she introduced me to her neighbors whose names I can’t remember. Next, I hung out with Mira, who is one of two people I know in my apartment complex. Since we had not seen each other in a while, we chatted briefly and caught up. Towards the end of the event, I chilled for a bit with recurring Propeller Skies character Trey and his Golden Retriever, Wilson.

notes:

PHOTO: Stephanie and Jane attending Hair of the Dog Sunday Afternoon in the Park at Park Tavern in Midtown, Atlanta, GA. May 23, 2004. Courtesy of d.2263 Photographics. View more Hair of the Dog at Park Tavern photos.

It was recently brought to my attention that the Smoove D Search for the Official Cocktail of Summer is really the Smoove D Search for the Official Tall Drink of Summer. While the distinction between cocktails and tall drinks is somewhat academic because the term cocktail is often used as a catchall to refer to drinks containing liquor, we here at Propeller Skies have decided to include both cocktails and tall drinks in the search.

Today’s entry in the Smoove D Search for the Official Cocktail of Summer is the Singapore Sling. Like all good cocktails, the exact recipe for this fine concoction is a matter of dispute. Each of the three cocktail recipe books I have handy has a different idea of what the proper ingredients are. About the only thing they agree on is the use of gin as a base spirit. However, we here at Propeller Skies prefer the version described in the Williams-Sonoma Bar Guide.

In contrast to the multitude of differing recipes, the origin of this drink is a fairly straightforward matter. The Singapore Sling was invented in 1915 by one Ngiam Tong Boon at the Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel in, surprise, Singapore. Originally, it was considered a woman’s drink because of its hue. The copious amounts of pineapple juice called for in the alleged original recipe probably contributed as well.

About a year after I moved to Atlanta, The Girlfriend* accepted a job out in the country. Since we had one functioning automobile between us, I got stuck taking MARTA. Because I lived on Peachtree Street at the time it was actually fairly convenient to take the bus, which came every ten minutes (imagine that) to the Arts Center Station and board the train. One thing I noticed riding the bus for two months was that no hotties ever rode the bus. Often, there would be eye-candy on the train. But never any on the bus.

Yesterday morning, as I boarded the bus, I noticed there was a beautiful baby sitting in the front seat. In disbelief, I cast a furtive glance to confirm this fact after sitting down. Then, after removing my glasses and rubbing my eyes, I checked surreptitiously again. There was an actual hottie on the bus! Unbelievable.

Soon, the initial shock wore off and I realized I would need take advantage of this unusual situation. So, on the ride to the train station, I was furiously wracking my brain to come up with a decent line. This would be very difficult and much different than a bar situation, where the beautiful baby in question would likely be inebriated and therefore susceptible to bad lines. However, it became a moot exercise upon arriving at the station, where she headed down the stairs to the southbound platform. Unfortunately, I work in the sticks and had to catch the northbound train.

notes:

* now The Exgirlfriend.

For the past few days, I have had the privilege of riding MARTA to work. Since the repair shop is taking fucking forever to fix my car, this will be the first in an indefinitely continuing series about the joys of public transit.

First, some background about Atlanta and MARTA for the benefit of Propeller Skies readers who are not fortunate enough to reside here. Because Atlanta is in the south, everything here operates according to Southern Peoples’ Time (SPT). This despite the fact that everyone here is from somewhere else. The first rule of SPT dictates that nothing ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, takes place at the scheduled time. The second rule of SPT is that the disparity between the scheduled time and the arrival time must vary, thus preventing even the appearance of adhering to a schedule.

According to the previously described rules of SPT, MARTA buses arrive at the stops pretty much randomly. In practical terms, this engenders long periods of waiting for buses to arrive.

Waiting in an of itself is not all that bad. What makes the waiting painful is the complete lack of anything resembling an amenity at the bus stops. Even the signs are as cheap as possible and display no useful information. As mentioned previously, Atlanta is IN THE SOUTH. Where it is HOT. Obviously, buses that run on time are too much to ask for. However, air-conditioning at the bus stops is not an unreasonable request.

Yesterday morning, as I was standing at the bus stop, roasting in the sun, sweating like a pig, and watching all the fortunate people in cars with transmissions that work drive by, one car stopped prior to the cross street for no apparent reason. It turns out that the dipshit driving had stopped to let a woman on the cross street pull out in front of him. This caused the passenger in the van behind the dipshit to yell out the window, “Don’t worry about the bitch, just go.” My thoughts exactly. If people spent less time worrying about bitches and more time just going, there would be no traffic problems in Atlanta.

Several posts ago, I reviewed hot dogs. As promised, I will now review another staple of the bachelor diet. This review will focus on one of the finest foods in all of the world, Combos.

Combos make a great bachelor food because they are easy to fix and easy to clean up. Preparation consists of one step, which is ripping the bag open. Once the bag is open, great tasting Combos are ready to be eaten.

The secret to the great taste is the faux cheese center. I am not sure what, exactly, it is made out of, but it is mighty tasty and highly addictive. When combined, the flavor of the faux cheese and the tactile crunch of the pretzel shell creates a synergy that results in an unbeatable taste sensation.

Combos really hit the spot when one has a case of the mad munchies brought on by excessive alcohol consumption or delinquency. Additionally, Combos are excellent for general, all-purpose snacking. Despite the prominently displayed words “oven baked” on the package, they contain partially hydrogenated soybean oil, which makes your ass look fat in those jeans.