Skip to main content

Georgia Part 3: The Underwhelming

I gotta say, I'm pleasantly disappointed that I saw no Klan Rallies, Confederate flag belt buckles, toothless strippers, banjo playing rapists or Black women with enormous asses.  Okay, I'm only disappointed that I didn't see one of those things but what the fuck Georgia?  You guys were straight nice.  That's as boring as watching grass grow but still, very nice.

You guys probably think I'm crazy for wanting to see some Mississippi Burning type shit but that would justify my disdain for all things southern (aside from the big booties).  Now I might have to *gulp* stop hating.

I guess I learned something this week.  I learned that the next time I have a chance to go to Atlanta to make sure that I'm actually going to Httlanta and not Notlanta before I agree.  I also need to bring my own alcohol because there are no gyatdamned liquor stores in this town.

Well guys, I shouldpack.  I get to see my girls tomorrow and I'm pretty happy about that.  Also, I get a chance to go to a proper liquor store.  Pretty happy about that as well.  Also, next week I get to go to Phoenix where it hit 110 degrees yesterday... Not so excited about that but at least I get another fat travel bonus.  I suppose I will lower myself and buy my own water.

Parting Shots:

It makes no sense that the people in Georgia are so nice but the people in Missouri that want to identify as southern are complete dick holes.

There is no reason for me to eat three times of day, especially when its a fruity breakfast and shitty food the rest of the day.

Uptown Funk gonna give it to you where ever.  They still play that song on the radio here and I still dance every time.

Liquor laws stink.  Don't you hate traveling and going into a store and trying to buy beer at 1AM just to hear them say they stop selling Liquor at 1 PM because of Jesus?

Seriously, they just ran a 5 minute story about horse that was stuck in the mud.  Let me pack my shit.  I'll see you guys in the Mid-West.


Comments

Post a Comment

Got comments? Let it out. I always do.

Popular posts from this blog

Maury must be stopped. No one has profited more from Black people being ignorant than he.   I know the old saying: “Mama’s baby, Papa’s maybe.” But, contrary to popular belief, Black men love their children.   Everyone loves children.   Even if Black men realize that they aren’t bringing much to a household, they know that there is magic there.   That magic might be scary, like all magic, but it’s there.   There isn’t much difference between the love that develops between a man and a child with his D.N.A.   and a man that a child that he has raised. I am my father’s son.   No, I’m not light skinned or a hustler, but I laugh when I hear something funny.   I’ll sit on a porch and dink liquor all Saturday morning.   My toes are extraordinarily long (just like his).   I will see a beautiful woman and take notice just because I am a man and that’s what a man does.   My dad raised me well. When you see a Black man on Maury, y...
2 comments
Read more

2016 is Godspeak for "Do Better"

Time flies at the same rate in every moment.  We know this because, you know, watches and shit.  This year seemed to sort of drag on but I am well aware it wasn't time's fault.  It was mine.  There was totally not enough money, sex and drugs to keep my mind occupied.  I guess my resolution for next year is to do better.  Here go how: Stop Smoking Again: Yes, I'm still smoking Black and Milds.  Yes I know It's 1999, yes I know about cancer.  It is the source of much self hate and I tell myself I should stop...until I run out.  I'll do better; pinky swear it. Drink Better Liquor: I know you are thinking "Why don't you stop drinking?"  The answer to that is "Because I'm a fucking adult."  That being said, my stomach is 15 years in to this drank life and it has no room for McRibs, dry turkey or vodka with sugar in it.  It's Absolut and better for me in the 2016.  Good thing I'm saving all that Black and Mild mo...
Post a Comment
Read more

R.I.P. Rusty Hayes

Pretty soon here I’m going to say goodbye to my dad.   I suppose that I already have.   When I walked into the place where he lived and saw him there, dead, with his mouth cocked open in a very strange angle, I realized that I had been saying goodbye to my dad for some time now.   That body that laid there in the nursing home did not resonate my father at all. You see, my dad was a big guy.   Always was to me.   That body there was emaciated and small; so much not the powerful figure that I remember. When I was younger, I remember how much I wanted to grow up to look like my dad.   He was muscular, handsome and light skinned and I was anything but (I still have beef with every negro that got blessed with being light skinned in the ‘90s).   The best thing about my dad, though, is that he had a serious thirst for life.   He always laughed so hard that you had to turn around and wonder what the fuck was going on over there that was so damne...
1 comment
Read more