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Posts Tagged ‘Atlanta’

Hello all!

I know that this time of year is supposed to be merry and bright. And usually I am too.

I love to travel, but sometimes it brings out the Grinch in me.

Allow me to elucidate.

Why I’m annoyed today:

1. There is no direct train from the city to any of the New York airports. In a city that is so good about public transportation, this is ridiculous. One of the best things about Atlanta is that you can take Marta directly to the airport. Well, the domestic terminal, anyway. If you are traveling international, the planning ninnies make you take a shuttle bus AROUND the airport. Stupid.

2. If a person has TSA Precheck, it’s a fair assumption that he knows the drill with the bins. Not the guy in front of me. He was a hot mess: Wrong boarding pass, waiting for the bin slot directly in front instead of going to the other two that were open, not realizing he couldn’t take his phone through the scanner. Dude, stay home.

3. If I’m sitting by myself in the waiting area, and there are five dozen open seats, DO NOT sit down next to me. I will cut you with my eyes.

4. Once you get on the plane, sling your suitcase in the overhead bin and immediately sit your ass down. People who take their time talking, taking off jackets, finding their glasses, etc., while BLOCKING THE AISLE (usually old white guys) drive me crazy.

5. The armrest is Switzerland.

Anyway, aside from minor annoyances like these, my annual birthday trip was great. I’ll write about it later.

Love and kisses,
Beth

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Dear Loyal (?) Readers:

Want to peek into how my mind works? Here you go:

I read a news story about a guy who swallowed a garden slug on a dare and died. (To be clear, it was eight years later from a disease the slug had called RAT LUNGWORM — gross — but still).

So naturally, I thought of that “What are little boys made of?” poem:

What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails.
That’s what little boys are made of!
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice.
That’s what little girls are made of!

And then I started thinking about what I would be made of (hint: It ain’t sugar and all that). And because I’m a little addicted to TV, here’s a guide to me in shows:

Two parts “Jersey Shore Family Vacation (Truth is stranger than fiction. It’s why I became a journalist.)
Two parts “The Amazing Race (I love to travel, and I’m competitive. I would sell a kidney to be on that show.)
One part “Chopped (I like to cook, and I have a pantry full of odd things from the Buford Highway Farmers Market.)
One part “Oddities(This captures my bad taxidermy obsession.)
A large helping of “Big Freedia: Queen of Bounce (Because, you know.)
A pinch of “Naked Attraction (I often work blue in non-work situations. I also love Brits. As you know.)
A dash of “Haunting of Hill House (Gore? Jump scares? True crime? I’m in.)

I don’t know, Michael. I don’t know.

Anyway, if you continue to be amused by what crosses my mind and comes out on the page, please subscribe to this blog. If you do already, thanks!

Yours in slugs, lungworm and guidos,
Beth

 

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Like this, but not as hairy

Elusive creature spotted at community park
From Staff Reports*

BROOKHAVEN, Ga. — A group that claims to track the mythic beast known as “Teenager” through the streets of Atlanta says they finally spotted the creature over the weekend in Dekalb County.

According to the group, the sighting occurred around 3 p.m. Saturday afternoon at Murphey Candler Park.

A woman named Beth said the creature made its presence known after she and fellow group members set up iPhones preloaded with Fortnite at various locations in an apparent attempt to lure the Teenager in.

“The angle of the sun was shining straight down on the seats on the Major Field and something big stepped into view,” Beth said. “I lifted my sunglasses to see better, and I saw a large bipedal animal covered in peach fuzz and ill-fitting clothes. It took one step into the stands, (then) I took off running toward it.”

The woman said that she and fellow Teenager trackers proceeded to follow what they claim was a large creature marginally recognized by modern science around the field to the concession stand.

“Its face was barely washed with no hair on it,” she said. “Its hands and feet were enormous. It was wearing clothes that looked way too big, but that is apparently the style among these creatures.”

Though not social, the creature did take extreme interest in the iPhone and was willing to sit near humans in the stands of the Major Field for moments at a time. Though it did not speak, the beast did grunt occasionally in response to stimuli.

*Credit/apologies to Travis Hall and Blue Ridge Outdoors for the words I liberally changed.

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EPISODE 3: Bad taste in beverages
Rated G for grandma, giant babies and “Good God, that Guy is … Gregarious!”

EXT. APARTMENT COMPLEX POOL – LATE AFTERNOON

ENTER FATHER and TWO KIDS, DOMINIC and GIDEON. MOTHER shows up 30 minutes later after finishing the Season 2 opener of “Jersey Shore Family Vacation.” (Ronnie had a meltdown on social media? Say it isn’t so!) FATHER and MOTHER practically double the average age of pool denizens.

MOTHER
Who are these people (referencing the dozen or so twentysomethings)?

FATHER
No idea.

GIDEON
Can we go home now?

MOTHER
Dude, I just got here!

FATHER (to MOTHER, who is wearing jeans)
Are you swimming?

MOTHER
No.

DOMINIC
Then let’s go.

MOTHER
Here’s the key. We’re going to hang out for a bit.

DOMINIC and GIDEON exit.

FATHER (referencing the cooler MOTHER has brought)
Anything in there for me?

MOTHER (handing him an adult sippy cup)
Yes.

MOTHER plays Words with Friends. FATHER watches a video of a man getting sucked into an escalator in Turkey. MOTHER overhears loud talking from one member of the youngster group.

MOTHER (to FATHER)
Why is there always one loud guy in the group? Which one is it?

FATHER (to MOTHER, whose back is to the group)
Look around. It’s the one you think it is. It’s always that guy.

MOTHER (glancing over her shoulder)
It’s the big guy in the hat, isn’t it?

FATHER
Yup.

LOUD GUY (repeats this phrase three times)
It was the best time of my life.

MOTHER
All right. I’m going to throw this out (references her empty can) and get out of here.

FATHER
Great idea.

MOTHER sees that these children don’t even have good taste in beer.

MOTHER
Bud Light? Ultra? GAH! (The Athena is hers.)

Look at this trash!

MOTHER
You coming?

FATHER
Yeah.

END SCENE

 

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Dear Routinely Judgy People:

I try not to be you, but sometimes I am. Case in point: Friday night.

It was a weird, busy night.

5:30 p.m.
Mini reunion of some high-school friends: Lee Ann, Susan and Katherine. Lee Ann’s husband had signed up to be part of the 500 Songs For Kids fundraising event at The Earl.

7 p.m.
Quick get-together with Eddie, the kids and Brenon, an old friend in town for a funeral.

8 p.m.
Picked up Wendy to go to The Earl. Wendy is a college friend in town to move her son into our alma mater.

8:30 p.m.
Wendy and I met up with Lee Ann and Susan (and I hoped my worlds colliding would be a success).

The fundraiser featured plenty of crowd-pleasing songs such as “Bad Reputation,” “Stacy’s Mom” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.” Lee Ann’s poor husband Bill got stuck with “The Gambler,” though. Not a bad song, but not so great for this event/venue.

Here’s where the judging comes in:

Between each song, the host chatted up the fundraiser, all Jerry Lewis telethon style. After a while, though, he talked more than the bands played.

There he is, talking. Again. Still.

I began to hate him.

I actually looked in my pocket to see how much cash I had, thinking I could donate all of it to make him SHUT UP.

Lee Ann and Susan had left by this time, but Wendy was with me in sentiment (lest you think I was the lone hateful hag).

But then, something magical happened.

That’s right. He threw Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies into the audience to the tune of Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet.”

And my heart grew three sizes that day.

The romantic aftermath

I should have learned my “book by its cover” lesson, but no.

Another group came on stage. Riff Raff with a dye job, an ’80s hair band reject wearing Uggs lite and smuggling chicken nuggets in his spandex, and a D&D basement dweller.

Whose basement exploded?

 

Wendy and I were being very mean.

Me: (About the RHPS lookalike) There’s your boyfriend.

Wendy: (Squeals) Every time I see him, I’m freshly horrified.

Then they began to play.

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.”

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” better than any band I have ever seen (sorry, Jesse’s Divide) besides Rush themselves.

Riff and the gang earned mad respect. And Wendy and I felt like the heels we were.

So hallelujah for self awareness.

And hallelujah for that guy. Amazing.

So even though I try not to be disparaging, I often fail. But I also admit when I’m wrong.

I was wrong.

I’m sorry.

I’ll do better.

Love and karma,
Beth

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Dear Fellow Thrashers**:

Y’all are the best. I joined the volleyball league to meet new people and have fun, and it’s working!

Last night was a little heartbreaking — good volleys but we couldn’t pull through in the clutch.

And right now I hear my other friends gasping in shock. Yes, believe it: I joined a volleyball league. (Waves hands in front of the faces of the passed out; shouts, “Give them some room!”)

Yeah, I know I’m not the sporty one in the family. I’m not particularly coordinated. I’m usually on the sidelines (unless flag football is involved, and then I’m a she devil [Right Chris and Linda?]).

But last night, two out of my three immediate family members came to watch me play. And I had the night of my life.

We still lost all three matches, but it was close, and I don’t care.

I turned as red as Will Ferrell as Lucifer.

I happily iced my arm.

Yes, that is an ice pack shaped like a cherry Life Saver. It fits perfectly on the painful spot on my wrist.

I wore the last bruise like a badge of honor.

Sexy, I know.

And I’m happy. So thanks. Love you all!

See you next week,
Beth

* Thank God for Thursdays

** AKA “Trashers” (We did not pick the name.)

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