Propeller Skies

While dining at the not so tasty Cafe Sampan, I picked up a flyer advertising complementary cocktails on opening night at Suzy Wong’s Lounge. Despite the offer of free booze, I was feeling too lazy to go. So I consulted the Magic 8 Ball. It responded with “reply hazy try again.” I followed the directions and got “most likely.” Hence this post, brought to you by the Magic 8 Ball.

I rolled up in my bitchin’ Cobalt and handed the keys to the valet. I walked upstairs to find that the new, and clearly retarded, owners had ruined what was once one of the best bars in Atlanta. Instead of a beautiful backlit onyx wall, there was nothing but a dumbass Asian inspired black and red wall that looked every bit as stupid as Dirk Diggler’s faux oriental bedroom in Boogie Nights. Unfortunately, the free booze promotion attracted a most irritating crowd - the bar was packed with obnoxious $30,000 millionaires. I was hoping to at least scope out some hotties, but all the women were pushing forty and obviously had more work done than Cher. Fucking awful. Seriously, this was so bad I left without getting a free drink.

I do not recommend Suzy Wong’s Lounge. Several other options, such as Halo and Bazaar, are far better.

Saturday, I attended Draft on Taft with recurring Propeller Skies characters Lisa and Kara. This was a swell event that reminded me of a college fraternity party, except during the daylight and outside. Highlights of the event included a woman wearing a bandanna as a top and plenty of beer. There was also a cover band, but unfortunately yelling, “Freebird,” is not the same without C-Dogg. Also, the event could certainly use a better beer sponsor next year, like Sweetwater. I highly recommend this event; do not miss it next year.

Last week, I stopped by Improv in the Park. On the way to the event, menacing dark grey clouds seemed ready to unleash a deluge at any minute. I went to the event anyway, figuring no one would show up because everyone in Atlanta is under the impression they will melt in the rain. After I arrived in the park, it did sprinkle for a little bit.

The first improv act was somewhat funny. After their routine, I stood up during intermission and was surprised to find a decent crowd had shown up.

This was an all right event, but the location last year on Pond Clara Meer was much better. Also, unlike last year, when recurring Propeller Skies character Jim and I saw a boob, no breasts were exposed. Despite the disappointing location and lack of nudity this year, I recommend this event.

A few weeks ago, I attended the East Atlanta Beer Festival with recurring Propeller Skies character Lisa. Upon arriving I discovered the organizers raised the price of admission to twenty-five dollars. This is bullshit. For the same amount of money I can stop by Green’s on Ponce, purchase two twelve packs of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (that would be twenty-four total bottles of beer for the math impaired), and still have enough left over for a slice or two at Fellini’s down the street. Fucking capitalist pigs.

Once inside the festival, a tasty brew from some company based in Greenville, South Carolina*, served by a buxom young hottie took the sting from the high price of admission. In addition, the festival was packed with hotties. While drinking I ran into several people I knew, none of whom are recurring Propeller Skies characters and therefore will not be enumerated here. I also did my best to drink twenty five dollars worth of beer.

After the festival, I hopped on the first MARTA bus going by. Novice MARTA riders often complain about the inscrutability of the bus routes and schedules, but the beauty of the system is almost every bus eventually ends up at a rail station. On the bus, I called The Quiet One and made plans to meet up with her and C-Dogg at Midtown Station and continue drinking. After going past mile after mile of uninspired strip commercial and dilapidated houses I slowly came to the realization I caught one of the few busses that do not terminate at a station.

Eventually, I ended up back in East Atlanta and stopped in The EARL for a burger. My waitress totally wanted me, but I played hard to get and escaped with my purity intact.

Overall, I had a good time despite my initial disappointment at the high price. I recommend this event, unless the price increases again next year.

notes:

* I am unable to remember the name of the brewery, because I was AT A BEER FESTIVAL.

After work today, recurring Propeller Skies character Big A and I made the mistake of heading over to Sweetwater Brewery for happy hour. The first problem was the lack of fucking parking. The second problem was the ass-farming cocksuckers at the gate told us they were at capacity and unable to let anyone else in. At capacity, my motherfucking ass. Right in front of our fucking faces was a gigantic open swath of parking lot, which could easily accomodate another two hundred people. Apparently the retarded tree hugging hippie douchebags at Sweetwater are blind.

This event was total fucking unadulterated bullshit. In case it was unclear from the preceding paragraph, I do not recommend this event. And anyone from Sweetwater who reads this can eat a dick.

Saturday, my friend James and I ventured OTP into a wasteland of rednecks, trailers, and confederate flags to attend Drift Atlanta. Along the way, we stopped at the McDonalds by I-85 and SR 53 for a light snack. This was my first McDonalds experience since watching Supersize Me and I was extremely disappointed. I was hoping that I would be able to shoot flaming turds thirty feet out of my ass after consuming a Royale With Cheese and some fries, but no such luck.

We arrived early enough to catch the practice rounds. I was excited to see that Alex Pfieffer, one of my favorite drivers from last year, was there driving a shiny new Honda S2000. Unfortunately, Pfieffer was having car trouble and did not provide an encore of last year’s exciting battle with Samuel Hubinette. Calvin Wan’s Infiniti G35 looked pretty sweet and he later had some awesome runs during qualifying rounds. The highlight of the practice rounds was Bubba Drift, an automatic El Camino, which was pretty fucking funny. Much to my suprise it was not a joke, but a serious contender. However, Bubba did not make it into the finals.

Finally, after standing in the sun for eternity the practice and qualifying rounds wrapped up and the tandem battles began. The first several heats were underwhelming, but the action picked up when Taka Aono, in a severely underpowered AE86 Corolla, went up against Hubinette in the ridiculously overpowered Dodge Viper. [Full disclosure: Smoove has a special hatred for Diamler-Chrysler products after a bad and expensive experience with one of their particularly shitty Jeep vehicles - Ed.] On the first run down the track, Aono simply did not have the horsepower to keep up with Hubinette, but turned in a solid run. However, the second time down the track, Aono drove wickedly and, in a thrilling battle, was able to prevent Hubinette from drifting past him. As it was close, the judges took their time scoring while the crowd chanted, “one more time.” Aono and Hubinette ran again and another excellent battle brought the same results and the spectators chanted, “Taka. Taka.” After the fourth round, it was still extremely close. The spectators again chanted, “one more round,” and waited for the cars to cool off. While waiting, a section of the crowd began chanting “Fuck. The. Viper.” I agree with them, that was some bullshit, as the V-10 Mopar against the inline four powered AE86 was patently unfair. Although Aono drove his ass off and put in a stunning performace, his car was on the verge of overheating and the judges declared a forfeit.

Later, Rhys Millen in the Pontiac GTO went up against Hubinette in the Viper. This was also an exciting battle, one that Millen unfortunately lost. However, the cars were at least reasonably matched in terms of power and Hubinette had to drive instead of relying on the V-10 to win. Millen went on to take third place by beating out Calvin Wan in an anticlimactic tandem battle.

Of course Hubinette went on to win first place. I will go out on a limb here and predict that he repeats as the series champion this year. The Viper is just has too much of a horsepower advantage over the other cars being campaigned.

I had a great time and I highly recommend attending any Formula D drift events. Seth from Crazy Lawsuit Game was in attendance, but we were unable to meet up. I read his post about Drift Atlanta and emailed him after he already left for the ATL.

A few weeks ago, I attended Netparty at Shout. This event was held at a great new venue and consequently packed with loads of hotties. As per usual, people were very friendly and I had a great time.

Last Saturday, I went to the Hair of the Dog pub crawl in Virginia Highlands. I forgot how much fun singles events can be if the right crowd shows up. And by right crowd, I mean chilled out young intown hotties, not desperate divorcees from OTP. The best part of the pub crawl was several women bought me beer. I think they were turned on by my big camera. I highly recommend attending a Hair of the Dog event, provided they have it at a sweet venue.

Courtesy of d.2263 Photographics, view Hair of the Dog Virginia Highlands Pub Crawl photos.

Thursday evening, I attended Campus Moviefest with recurring Propeller Skies character Lisa and her friend Lori. The hopelessly lame theme of the event was “good goes around.” Not coincidentally, good goes around is the slogan of Delta Airlines. We here at the Prizzo Skeezy nominate it as the Worst. Slogan. Ever. Seriously, what the fuck kind of tree-hugging hippie bullshit is that? We suggest that they change it to a more reality based slogan. Examples include, but are not limited to:

• Vaporizing shareholder value through poor management;
• Platinum parachutes for rotten executives; or
• Delay, delay, flight cancelled!

This was not an event that I would normally have gone to, because movie theatres and booze do not generally go together in this country. However, when Lisa mentioned it, I figured it would be a great opportunity to meet some young, college age women. I was wrong.

The short films put together by the students were very creative, but technically a nightmare. My absolute favorite was Cocaine The Musical, which was fucking hilarious. The first place winner, What Mocks A Good Movie, was created by people with far too much time on their hands. It is fucking hysterical, because of the witty dialog and the innovative use of stop motion animation featuring Legos®.

This was a really cool event, made even better by my 99x* Freeloader Card** that got me in for half price. I recommend stopping by this event. I would highly recommend it, but the corporate sponsorship was extremely heavy handed.

notes:

* Not that I would ever be caught dead listening to corporate radio.
** That’s right, I’m a card carrying Freegan, bitches.

Alert Propeller Skies readers will remember that I attended MARTA Pub Crawl VI way back in May. Since it was a decent time, I decided to check out MARTA Pub Crawl VIII on Saturday afternoon. In contrast to the previous pub crawl that started in Underground, where large caliber firearms are required for survival, this one started at Houlihan’s in the airport, where weapons of any kind are illegal.

On the train ride to the airport, I figured it would be prudent to invent a cover story in case I was stopped by the TSA for looking suspicious. I figured the truth would not do, since it is highly unlikely that anyone would show up at the airport for the sole purpose of drinking. I imagine the conversation with the TSA would go something like this, “Excuse me sir, why are you wandering around looking suspicious?”

“I’m here to go on the MARTA Pub Crawl and get bombed.”

“Step over here and put your hands against the wall.”

“Let me clarify that officer, I am here to get wasted and ride the train, not to bomb the airport and ride the train.”

“Take him to Gauntanamo Bay and lock him up with all the other terrorists.”

Obviously, getting sent to Guantanamo Bay and being tortured would suck a big sloth ball, so I came up with the plan of scanning the arrivals, picking a city, and claiming I was at the airport to meet a friend coming in. As it turns out, all this plotting was for naught, because like all government workers, the TSA agents were far too busy standing around doing nothing to bother me. I met up with the other pub crawlers at Houlihan’s without incident.

College Park was the second stop on the pub crawl. The first commenter to correctly name the college that was in College Park will win… Absolutely nothing! We visited the bar next to the Feed Store. I have no idea what the name of this bar was, as they could not be bothered to supply any matchbooks. Despite the oversight with regard to matchbooks, this was a very nice bar done in the ubiquitous loft theme. I had a Flying Dog Pale Ale at this stop, which was pretty good. Not quite as zesty as Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, but a worthy contender.

East Point was the next stop. I am unclear as to what, exactly, East Point is east of. However, it is directly south of West End. We dropped in on the East Point Corner Tavern (EPCT), which totally rocks because they have three dollar bottles of Rolling Rock. To celebrate this good fortune, I had about five. Just as the pub crawl was about to leave the EPCT, recurring Propeller Skies character Michael and Andrea met up with us. We opted to stay and have a few drinks, with the intention of catching up to the rest of the pub crawlers later.

Eventually, we wandered down the street to Oz pizza to grab a few slices. At first, I was concerned that some burley convict would anally rape me. Fortunately, the place was named after the movie and not the television show. They serve some mighty tasty slices that are almost as good as Sal’s in Buffalo.

After eating, we tried to catch up with the rest of the pub crawl in Midtown at Stool Pigeons. I have no idea why the fuck anyone would name any damn thing after rats with wings. Despite the goofy name, it is a rather nice place to hang out. We missed the pub crawl crew and decided to just chill there. After a few drinks, we hit Midtown Station and headed home.

This event was a good time and clued me in to some swell places on the south side. Prior to this adventure, I assumed the south side was nothing but a wasteland of chains like TGIFridays and Houlihan’s. Discovering some new bars convenient to MARTA was excellent, because transit oriented drinking is becoming a favored pastime of mine, since I can drink as much as I want and not worry about getting hassled by the pigs. As I was crossing the Downtown Connector on my way home, I noticed the DUI task force busted some poor bastard.