Exploring Little Five

I’m intrigued with Little Five Points and Cabbagetown, but I always feel like it’s best enjoyed when you’re a local. I tried to feign a sense of locality last night. I brought my sketchbook and current book for pleasure (ohh yeaa). I walked down Euclid, and casually and turned and entered The Porter. Immediately I was in love. It’s a small, skinny and long pub that is low, but well lit. Besides the bartender with the quietly pretty face, I was the only girl, and definitely the youngest (this is not why I loved it… I’m not a prowler).  I was surrounded by educated, classically dressed and socially liberal minded young gentlemen. The bar only had craft beer and liquor (thank goodness for the vacation from PBR and Miller High Life). I ordered a seasonal, dark, nutty beer that I had never heard of before, and it was absolutely delicious. The gentlemen next to me had ridden in on his Vespa and was wearing a tweed suit. After eaves dropping some, I learned that he had taught at Harvard and now is retired and lectures by invitation at Georgia Tech. A friendly young man, sitting a few stools down (that sounds funny) heard that this was my first time at The Porter and that I was relatively new to Atlanta, which apparently warranted him buying me a beer. I never turn down free alcohol. It was a completely casual, no obligation, civil gesture, which was refreshing.

This might become a regular week-day spot for me. Look for me behind “On the Road” or behind the apple. 

Have you met us?

June

Being called 'Ronnie' from Jersey Shore is NOT a compliment.

Unless you live in Jersey Shore or if you’re really into juiced up, drunk guys, being called Ronnie is not a compliment. Also, attempting to force kisses onto girls in public on a Sunday evening is also probably a sign that you need to put down the spiked juice box. The Hulk and his friend, Mellow Guy, invited Salli and Coley, a mutual friend, to join their table. In my defense, I worked until about 10pm that night, and was told to come to Hand in Hand because of the ‘interesting’ people that my counterparts had been met. I assumed this was a good interesting, not a ha-ha-look-at-the-drunk-guy-that-could-easily-crush-us-with-his-eye-ball-muscles interesting. Once there, I knew we had to jump ship, or rather, patio table. Conveniently, next to our table was a table with three handsome intriguing looking men.

Not from Jersey,

June

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Hand in Hand quickly became our Sunday mingling watering hole, and we were never disappointed with the stories we came away with.  One particular Sunday, we met an interesting group of guys at the table next to us.  They consisted of a bunch of nice looking, older southern gentlemen, and one Super-Juiced King of the Douches.  It was an intriguing combo, so naturally, when they asked us to join them, I obliged.  The decent guys slowly peeled off, and we were left with one decent, but older one.  And then there was the Hulk Man.  
I tried being sarcastic to the point that he would be either give up and walk away, or his head would explode (I was secretly hoping for the latter, although I wasn’t keen on the idea of being splattered with mush and hair gel).  But OF COURSE that didn’t happen.  He became head over heels obsessed with my quick wit and ball-busting comebacks, so enthralled that he continuously tried kissing me.  I kept insisting that I don’t (I mean DON’T) do P.D.A., but he kept trying to push himself on me.  Finally, I went to the bathroom and abandoned the situation. 


Not impressed with your forced slobber,


Salli


...Have you met us? 

Beards & PBR

At the time, we thought the facial hair made them dark and mysterious, but in reality they were just hidden repetitive and dull conversationalists. (Topics including: PBR, mustaches, being friends with minorities, and beards. Alas, we met our first Atlanta Hipster friends.*) Nevertheless, we were intrigued. We’ve met drunk frat guys, muscley 500 lb guys, professional Buckheaders, emo ‘philosophers’ and had been losing interest. We used the facial hair dudes, lets call them Mr. Mom, Cat and Bullwinkle, to wean us off of the Hulk. One of the great things about having Salli as your wingwoman, is that we are almost never attracted to the same guy. Before approaching the beards, we had already decided which ones we were physically more attracted to; I to Cat and she to Mr. Mom. We all hit it off as a group, and once Hand in Hand closed up fro the night, we ventured to Universal Joint. U Joint’s a fun place nestled in Decatur that has ridiculously amazing hours. 
We actually made arrangements to hang out again-- maybee something'll materialize from this. eh

*They would go on to deny this accusation

Junee

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Earlier in the evening, June and I had noticed a table of scruffy, hipster boys sitting behind us.  Amongst the crazy creep-o table’s happenings, we had kept our eyes on the hipsters.  We took advantage of ridding ourselves of the Juice Box man, and sat down with the bearded boys—Cat, Bullwinkle, and Mr. Mom.  They were quirky, fun, and multi-faceted, just like us.  It was refreshing, the first real group of guys we had met in Atlanta.  We could have talked to them all night.. and we almost did.  It was a really great night for us.  We met a ton of people that night, and a couple that would likely stick around in our lives, at least for a week or so. HAH…

None the wiser,

Salli

Precious Yinzer (Dark Horse)

I don’t know what it is with uncontrollable loads of hungry and late night drinking. There has to be a scientific explanation for this (this question is up for grabs…Bueller? Bueller?) Coley, one of our mutual friends, on this particular night had her heart set on one thing: a large Dominoes pizza. First off, their ads are great. Admitting that your product is shit, and then inviting everybody to test your new product was pretty ballsy.

ANYWAY. The selection of guys was alright-- we did end up meeting two fellows: Precious and Yinz that seemed nice and respectable. They told us about some more mature, classier things to do around town (What? Dark Horse isn't classy??), such as the High Museum. I've got to go to soon-- at least before Dali rewaxes his mustache.  

Digging the stache,

June

Have you met us?