Why Are There So Many Peachtrees?!?

During the Christmas break, Faye and I went to Atlanta. She wanted to celebrate her 24th birthday and bring in the New Year in style…which means, bring in the New Year not in this boring ass city which is flooded with tourist or in the more boring ass city we reluctantly call “home”.

So we packed up our clothes and went. We made no significant plans other than to wild the fuck out. Only problem was, upon our arrival we were assigned two tour guides: Faye’s best friend from middle school and the chick’s spineless fiancée. They, well actually he, took us everywhere. Dude even came to the club with us on her birthday. It was so awkward because chick had a straight up ‘tude and the fiancée was the only Irish man in the club.

And to call this place a club would be utterly erroneous. I don’t know what it is about Atlanta, but them folk up there are on some other level shit. Like, I expected to dance and have fun, but everyone else @ Dolce was under the impression that fun involves standing in a circle while looking at others so the same.

No one was dancing. Everyone was just standing. It was just too weird.

And to make matters worse bitches are completely rude! Like, I’m used to saying, “Excuse me” while shifting someone to the side in the quest for another martini, but these pretentious muthafuckers would just bow a bitch and keep on trucking.

Not to mention, the only dick I rubbed on that entire evening was this dude who was standing behind me in line awaiting the privilege of entering the “club”. It was a complete accident; this chick backed into me and sent me and my ass into his bubble. Being a bad girl and wanting to catch some mild action before returning to Florida, I let my ass pressed against his dick linger too long to be considered an accident.

He look down at me and smiled. He called me “ma” or “shawty” but I completely ignored his idea of an endearing term and focused on his smooth complexion and neatly twisted locs. The brother was fine.

Too bad I never felt is dick pressed against my ass again.

Our female tour guide and her ‘tude ruined the evening. She completely snapped on us and cut the night short by walking out of the quasi club/restaurant/bowling alley in a silent raging fit.

She ruined Faye’s birthday and made it her mission to ruin the rest of our trip. Little did she know, Faye and I enjoy driving up and down the numerous Peachtrees completely lost but laughing nonetheless.

The morning after, we made our way to this quaint breakfast café (minus the tour guides) and enjoyed a day without drama or anymore tortuous visits to the CNN Center and the Coca Cola Factory.

We did a little shopping, met up with some peeps, all while fighting back the the overwhelming desire to relocate to Atlanta.

We met up with this guy…this intelligent, genius of a man. Maybe it was his locs or the interaction between him and his daughter, but I instantly became intrigued by this genius. It was so random because he’s older and way too intelligent to fuck, but gosh! the nigga is the truth!

Plus he just looks like his dick is HUGE!

I made no sexual advances towards him and I doubt he noticed me checking his package out. We stayed in the house that night with of course the two tour guides. It was boring and against what we wanted, but it was drama-less and probably the right thing to do.

We left Atlanta without getting high, without getting fucked, without visiting Peters Street. We left Atlanta with the realization that women are fucking crazy and that the next visit can NEVER include boring and unhappily engaged tour guides.