Cheers to the nerds/Buy a beer for a dude

I really like nerdy guys. If you know anything about literature, current events, history, book binding, art, insects, aeronautics, physics, etc. the chances of receiving my flirty eyes (and consequential attention and phone number) are increased by 73.5%. This has been documented. But the thing about nerds, dorks and geniuses; the chances of them approaching you are 73.5% less than the average guy.

Rocky Mountain Pizza Company is a popular Georgia Tech bar nestled right on the pizza-shaped corner of Hemphill and 10^th St. I would feel very confident in saying that Rocky may be the cheapest place to drink on a regular basis in all of Boozelanta. Pitchers of Miller High Life $5, well Whiskey on the rocks $2.50 and pizza slices start at just under $2. Keep in mind that this is everyday, all day. I’ve never really been on a Friday or Saturday night, but if you go on a sunny Tuesday or Wednesday late afternoon, the chances of finding me on the patio are very much in your favor. Any of the waitresses, Ten, Veronica, Anne or Carmen, know that I’ll be there for four or five hours, sipping on a pitcher with a South-Forty pizza slice. I love the staff there—it’s a casual environment and they’re legitimately nice people. But regrettably, the quality of young, approachable men is minimal. So grab your friends, especially while the weather is still pleasant and drink until you turn into a fish.

Checkmate,

June 

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June makes a valid point about the awesome, laid back atmosphere of Rocky Mountain, and I have found that there are often attractive and intelligent boys present, but with them comes the inability (or lack of momentum) to approach girls. Once such time, spotted: a pair of lookers at Rocky Mountain.  He and his friend had caught our eyes when they first arrived and sat at a neighboring table. Before we left, I decided to stop admiring the nerds from afar, and make something happen.  I bought him a beer, informing him with a sharpie note on the cup that I felt that he was attractive, accompanied with my number.  I heard from him a few hours later—success!  Still a work in progress, but it was admittedly a great moment in the world of S and J. 

Cheers to balls,

Salli

This is not your boss:

Go to Smiths, find old men, drink booze until you force yourself to be sick in order to survive. This is the most economically, depression friendly way to have a good time.

However, unless this is your kind of guy (potentially sketchy, bad father figures), don’t lead anybody on. You don’t want him to end up at the end of the night angry that you didn’t put out. 

Don't be stupid,

June

Beware of overly eager middle aged men

Salli and I came to the realization that the boys we were meeting seemed so young, which might not necessarily be a bad thing. We’ve both been living on our own for about five years now, have college educations and are seeking higher goals. Living with your mom, taking eight years to complete college without any career goals or possibilities, though once intriguing, was starting to become stale. We set out to meet nice young men that could maybe pay for our drinks and take us back to their beautifully decorated apartments. (Let me make a note, I personally go for the indie, outdoor guy that has his life in order, that still likes going Keroacing every so often, but this blog is about meeting different kinds of guys in different parts of town. What fun is it if we meet variations on a theme on Highland?) Hudson Grille was our first stop; it was only meant to be one drink. We sat at the bar, and watched the first game of the World Series. Our bar neighbors (resembling my passed grandfather), were very pleasant and chatty and helped us out with some trivia questions, even though we were only playing verbally and for fun. 

After some time, a gentleman approached us, followed by his timid friend that hovered behind me. The bold man had beer spilt down his front. We chatted, and then they claimed they were going to go to Mellow Mushroom next door to get some food, and invited us to join. We had fresh drinks, which was a perfect excuse to say that we may join them later. Well, after some time, we, too, decided that a pizza slice sounded pretty dang good. As we walked over, we caught the two gentlemen walking back into Hudson Grille. This was perfect! They had come back to meet us, but it seemed perfectly natural that just as we were about to head over to ‘join’ them, they were coming back! What fools would follow us back to Mellow? Well, five minutes later, they were at our backs at the bar. I was blessed to end up chatting with the slightly-less-attractive-but-a-significantly-better-personality bald timid one (alas, his alias is Baldie). Poor Salli was conversing with the pretty, but pretty drunk, one. Salli and I faked an early evening, and gave them our numbers. I, like the idiot I am, gave Baldie my real number (he was nice!), but Salli for once gave a fake number (guys, you really should pick up on the fact that 404.867.5309 is probably not a real number). 

June Bug

Have you met us? (huh?? huh?)

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?