I Smoked Weed in an Uber

Yesterday I had plans to meet a friend for drinks at a German joint called Der Biergarten in downtown Atlanta. Not wanting to deal with downtown parking or driving after a few steinfuls, I booked an Uber to pick me up from my house in Cabbagetown. Immediately after hitting “Request UberX” the driver calls me.

“Hi! This is Jared, your Uber driver. How are you?”
“I’m good, and you?”
“I’m great. So how are you?”
Pause. “I’m fine,” I say hesitantly, having not the slightest clue what is happening.
“I wanted to ask if it’s OK if I have a friend riding with me.” No explanation as to why.
“Yeah that’s fine,” I reply. My first thought was that he’s simply giving his friend a ride somewhere and is doing double duty. My other thought was that it’s probably just two dudes riding around like we used to do when we were in high school and the only things to do were drive around, or hang out in the Walmart parking lot or in the woods. I found out immediately that it was the latter. Continue reading

Advertisements

An Open Letter of Hate to the Woman in 12A

Dear Woman Sitting Behind Me in 12A on This Flight to Vegas,

For the last two and a half hours I’ve been suppressing a distinct and snowballing hatred for you. You insist on squawking at full volume on and on about all the mundane things that come to your mind. Dismal proof of your repressed suburban life. Mindless chatter that sets those subjected to it back decades of intellectual years when heard at normal volume, but at your chosen decibel level, it’s simply unbearable.

And of course, you have a Southern accent which makes your inane yammering sound, if at all possible, more vapid.

As if that was not enough, after one and a half Shock Tops you’ve taken to laughing at everything you say. Your favorite topic has been how ridiculously hot it is on this plane. When the flight attended asked you if you wanted anything you requested air conditioning and then threatened to “strip down to your skivvies.” I got a good look at you when you went to use the lavatory, and seeing you in your skivvies would be an event so unholy, I would sell my own mother into white slavery to keep your clothes on. Continue reading

Knoxville: Sorostitutes, Daydrinking, and Bone Luging

pollen sad faceSpring is my favorite season in Atlanta. Just when you start to forget what leaves look like and you’re about to lose all hope, the dogwoods begin to bloom. You can put on chapstick and rest assured that after walking three feet, your lips will be yellow and gritty with pollen. The best part about spring, however, is that on April 1 the PTO days at work reset.

UT Knoxville logo, university of tennessee logoAfter a whirlwind trip home to Florida for a wedding and setting a new personal binge drinking record, I came back to ATL for the week only to head to Knoxville the next weekend. When I think “vacation” the state of Tennessee doesn’t usually pop into my head, but a good friend of mine who’s a UT alum wanted to show us around her old stomping grounds. I’d never been, so I figured what the hell?

After working all day and then driving three and a half hours through torrential downpour and multiple tornado warnings, we arrived in Knoxville. Our destination for the night was Cumberland Ave, “The Strip” of college bars located within walking distance of student housing. After stopping into Half Barrel for a Mickey’s and a shot, we walked over to the oasis of Docksiders, filth and regret known as Tin Roof. Continue reading

Charm City Trip: Murals, Records, and the Sexiest Chicken ‘n’ Waffles Ever

Last week I took a trip out to Baltimore to see some family for Christmas. I flew out Christmas morning and had the pleasure of enjoying the soothing sounds of a screaming baby for the first 30 minutes. And we all know how much I love children.

A Little History

I was born in Baltimore at St. Agnes hospital. It was around the time of Independence Day and my mom told me that she could see fireworks over the Inner Harbor from her hospital window.

Baltimore's Inner Harbor

Baltimore’s Inner Harbor

My parents moved us down to Florida when I was three months old, but I would fly up to visit my grandparents in Baltimore every summer starting at age nine. Continue reading

Adventures in Mormon Country

A few months back I took a trip out to Salt Lake City to visit my aunt and uncle.

Salt lake city utah, SLC

Much to my surprise I did not burst into flames after stepping off the plane. Continue reading

The Joys of Moving

It’s that time of the year, folks: Moving Season. I have a question, why the fuck does everyone wait until it is 106 degrees outside with humidity to rival the Amazon to move? Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about that in Atlanta.

Atlanta heat wave, Hotlanta, atlanta weather map

Oh, wait.

Continue reading

Book Review: “The Sex Lives of Cannibals”

I recently finished reading a great book called “The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift In the Equatorial Pacific” by J. Maarten Troost.

sex lives of cannibals book cover, sex lives of cannibals, j. maarten troost

This book, which is sort of a travelogue-meets-memoir about a guy who travels to “the end of the world” with his girlfriend and lives there for two years, had me laughing out loud every time I picked it up. Continue reading

Unknown Hinson: Pure Country Western Psychobilly Magic

Taking some much-needed time off from work to head down to Florida for a grown-up spring break has proven to be pretty rewarding so far. A few hours after rolling into town on Friday, it was time to jump back in the car and head over to Tampa for the Unknown Hinson show for which I’d been recruited.

Continue reading

The Fall Update: Slacktober, Root Canals and Yes, More Paula Deen

Feeling pretty guilty about not posting anything since August. However, when I write 10-12 of these suckers (blog posts) a day at work it’s kind of hard to muster up the energy to get back on the computer when I get home. Most days I come home and send hateful thoughts and glances to my computer sitting innocently unused on my desk. When you work in social media, you tend to become resentful of the things that used to bring you enjoyment.

devil facebook Continue reading

It’s hot as fuck and my birthday cake has a missile launcher on it.

Now that I’m a working stiff it seems like the days drag and the weeks fly by. I can’t believe that it’s already August. What I can’t believe even more than that is that I now live in a place where there are actually seasons. In Florida the seasons go as such:

  • Winter: “Jesus fuck, it’s cold outside!” …52 degrees.
  • Spring: “Hey, it’s still pretty chilly, I think I’ll wear a sweater today” and by 11 a.m. you’re sweating and/or working with some righteous B.O.
  • Summer: Pit stains and ball sweat.
  • Fall: Certainly nothing “crisp” about fall in Florida. Picture the exact opposite of that. Continue reading