Propeller Skies

Any event organizers that are reading this should get a pen and paper and start taking notes. Because this is how to do an event up right.

I dropped in on the Hair Ball on Sunday evening to photograph. I thought this motherfucker would be as dead as fried chicken, since it was [1] on a Sunday and [2] at Compound, which is so over. However, the entire fucking place was packed. Unfuckingbelievable, especially since tickets were $25.00. I am not sure who the event organizers are, but they BROUGHT THE MOTHERFUCKING HOTTIES. I highly recommend this event and will make sure that my people go next year.

An extra large Propeller Skies shoutout goes to Kim for hooking me up with VIP status. The extra large is because she set me up, despite my criticism of her writing skills. Event organizers, write the following shit down and underline it a few times. Pay special attention to the part written in all capital letters. VIP status meant the photographer got ALL THE KENTUCKY STRAIGHT BURBON WHISKEY HE COULD DRINK. And it was Makers Mark. This provided significant motivation for the photographer to take assloads of pictures and will ensure that future Hair Balls receive media coverage from the best event website in Atlanta.

This event also included a fashion show, which was okay. Thanks to Photoshop® and Nikon® the photos are excellent. [Undecipherable drunken ramblings removed - Ed.]

Life is so much better with the addition of well constructed cocktails. I never did get around to choosing an Official Cocktail of Summer™, however, if I had it would have been the Caipirinha.

The primary spirit in a Caipirinha is Cachaca, which is the national spirit of Brazil. It is distilled from sugar cane and is similar to Pisco or Grappa. Originally, it was the liquor of choice for peasants. However, in the last century, it has gradually been improved and is now a respectable spirit.

In this drink, the fiery Cachaca is tamed by the lime juice and simple syrup. These are ideal for drinking on a lazy summer afternoon, or well into the fall in the warmer latitudes.

The secret to an outstanding Caipirinha is all in the muddling. Crushing the lime against the side of the glass brings out the bitter oils in the skin of the fruit, giving the drink an edge.

Although not terribly easy to find, Cachaca is growing in popularity here in the United States and can now be located in most cities of reasonable size. Avoid the brands Pita and Nega Fulo, as they are low quality spirits unfit for human consumption.

notes:

PHOTO: Caipirinha. September 26, 2004. Courtesy of Green Chicken Associates.

Saturday afternoon I stopped by the 2nd Annual Virginia Highlands Pub Hop, which was put on by USA Entertainment and Hair of the Dog. Last year, I attended the inaugural pub hop and had a great time, even though it did not attract a huge crowd. This year the crowd was much larger, but the ratio was terrible. There was more sausage than a Bob Evans factory. Additionally, the beer special was terrible. Coors Light is yellow colored sparkling water, not beer.

Events can, and quite often do, suck for any number of reasons. However, to have a successful event it is essential to BRING THE MOTHERFUCKING HOTTIES.

My car passed the fascist government mandated emissions test yesterday. The following billboard sums up my feelings perfectly:

notes:

PHOTO: Billboard along Peachtree Industrial Boulevard in Atlanta, GA. September 25, 2004. Courtesy of Green Chicken Associates.

[To the person out there who is obsessed with photos of Twisted Taco bartenders, THERE ARE NO PHOTOGRAPHS IN THIS POST. Move it along. -Ed.]

I stopped by Twisted Taco tonight for their two year anniversary party. Usually I avoid house promotions, because they generally suck. However, the folks at Twisted Taco threw a killer Cinco de Mayo party, so I decided to stop by this little soiree. Oh, and there were free drinks for an hour.

Soon after arriving, I determined that I knew exactly zero people in the place. Fortunately, there were plenty of televisions tuned to the Miami game, so I settled in to watch some football. About the time I was getting bored with watching Miami mosey into the end zone whenever they felt like it, Antonius showed up. I chilled with him for a while and then went out back to check out the mechanical bull.

This event was packed, however none of my friends were there and I was not in the mood to make any new ones. So I took advantage of the free booze and left fairly early.

Finally, Texas A&M won a game against a ranked opponent in the Franchione era. Although the ranked status of Clemson is arguable, since they lost to an unranked Georgia Tech team last week. And we all know Georgia Tech blows sloths. Because I was in a television free zone this weekend, I unfortunately did not get to see the game. However, based on the stats, it looks like the Wrecking Crew, missing in action last season, finally found its way to Kyle Field.

Approximately six years ago, I loaded all my stuff, my father, and my brother into a Volkswagen Golf and set out on the road to attend The Texas University in College Station. On the way, we got stuck in some nasty construction traffic on I-65 outside of Nashville. Much to my chagrin, on the way to Louisville this weekend, it took half an hour to go five miles on that same stretch of interstate, due to construction. Apparently, the DOT employees have been busy leaning on their shovels for the last several years.

Friday morning, I took a different route to work. Had I not, I would have run into the Big Ass Tree™ sooner, rather than later.

The Big Ass Tree™ did some damage to a few power lines and completely blocked the road. While photographing, I hung out for a while, hoping some dumbass would come flying down the road and crash into the tree because they were talking on a cell phone, reading the newspaper, and eating a dozen Krispy Kreme® doughnuts. Much to my annoyance, everyone managed to stop well short of the tree.

In related news, Cap’n Ken and Coffee Achiever have a slightly more interesting Big Ass Tree™ story.

The first person that mentions this post is hopelessly out of chronological order will receive a beatdown.

Earlier this summer, my friend Kara purchased a boat. Recently, she was kind enough to invite me up to the lake to hang out on the boat with her and Stacia over Memorial Day weekend. Normally, I would not be inclined to visit the lake, because it is [1] OTP and [2] overrun with rednecks. However, since Kara is really fucking cool, I accepted the invitation.

The biggest downside to boating is getting up ridiculously early to arrive at the lake at a reasonable hour, since the Army Corp of Engineers conveniently built it 60 miles away from Atlanta. I think they should have turned Gwinnett County into a lake. That way, I could sleep in and the world would have been spared several hundred thousand acres of drab strip commercial development, billboards, and shitbox houses. In conclusion, Gwinnett County is marginally less ugly than Houston.

Upon arriving at the marina, we loaded the boat up with two coolers full of beer, a couple bottles of wine, one bottle of vodka, various other sundry items, and two dogs. While loading the refridgerator, Kara found me an ice cold Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, which I promptly drank. After stowing everything securely, we pulled out of the slip and headed onto the lake with the goal of meeting Dion and Mindy.

About this time, after reading the lable on the Harp Lager I was drinking, I was stunned to discover that it is imported from CANADA and not IRELAND. I want my fucking money back. In contrast, Guiness, the brewers of Harp, will ship a metal sign from fucking Dublin. But not the beer. Bloody wankers.

It soon became apparent that meeting up with Dion and Mindy would be much more difficult than originally anticipated. After much time spent looking for a nice sailboat with two masts and several phone calls, Mindy’s father, Carter, was dispatched to find us.

By this time, I had consumed several bottles of Harp Lager. So, I had a bit of a swim while we waited for Carter to find us.

Eventually, after a few more bottles of Harp Lager, Carter found us. Upon arriving at the cove, we discoverd that we had actually been there earlier in the day. However, the navigator failed to recognize the cove since several new docks had recently been built.

Kara docked the boat and we joined Dion, Mindy, and Carter on the platform on top of their slip, which was about twelve feet above the water level. Shortly thereafter, Dion removed the railing and proceeded to jump off. Since he survived, I took off my shirt and jumped as well.

We chilled there for most of the afternoon. Later, as the light began to fade, we piled back on the boat and headed for the marina.

The trip back to the marina was uneventful and relaxing. It was nice to chill on a boat and watch the sun set across the water, even if I did have to go OTP to see it. After arriving back at the dock, Kara cooked dinner for herself and Stacia, while I hung out and drank. I watched part of a hopelessly dorky movie with them and then headed back to Atlanta. Once back in town, I showered and headed to The Earl to meet up with recurring Propeller Skies characters Michael and Lara.

Tonight, I stopped by Toast for Arts Safari’s My Big Fat Opera party. Toast has beautifully designed interior, which would have looked fucking awesome in photographs. Because the crowd was rather sparse, I did not bother shooting. Apparently several people stayed home, since they were afraid of the hurricane somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. Which is roughly 1,000 miles from here. In conclusion, Atlanta’s olympic mascot should have been a giant vagina.

As a side note, I ran into Elizabeth’s hot friend at this event. Amusingly, she and Elizabeth are friends of The Vegetarian, who was also in attendance.