Redeye - Smoke 'em if you got 'em July 07 2005
I'm sure it did not escape the notice of many that the weekend of the Fourth of July and the statewide smoking ban coincided. Independence Day, indeed, eh? Now, I'm not a smoker. Nor am I a father, so I have no emotions vested in either side. But I do feel strongly that we need more legislation like we need the Gods of Fuck Mountain on Viagra or for all the lights in the city to flash yellow for two days following a single thunderclap.
Do you get what I'm saying? I'm saying things get progressively more ridiculous in this city. Are you sure we shouldn't just ban smoking everywhere but Underground Atlanta? While we're at it, why don't we ban toilets? Then everyone will just have to go in public, which will fit how I feel. Because I feel like everyone's being pissed on - first with operating hours/24-hour establishments and now with smoking/family establishments. Add to that the fact people in this city can't drive in the rain and I wanted to stay out of the bars/clubs all weekend. So that's pretty much what I did, and let me tell you about it.
The original plan was to drive around gittin' crunked up. But this weekend I just drank a can of Lil Jon-endorsed CRUNK!!! Energy Drink at home and rearranged CDs. The problem was I couldn't stop taking breaks to dry hump the furniture, so I knew it was time to get out of the house before I got a splinter in my jimmy.
Next stop was chasing skirt. Me and a friend ended up going through two pitchers trying to find a catcher, but some nights it's OK to just drink your PBR with a pal when you can't get a lady on page 63 with you. So there we are, getting discombobulated and blaming equal parts "Sex in the City" and the Delia's catalog for our stunted chances with the opposite sex, when the wake-up call came in and we opted to pass out.
At least the Fourth of July provided some fireworks. Nothing says beat the heat like Woodchuck Cider, a bottle of Rosé and some illegal fireworks your friend brought from Alabama. Third-degree burns = freedom, bitches! I'd rather burn my fingertips than my tongue on freedom fries, anyway. Let's hear it for Chinese gunpowder and power of the people, for the people, by the people.
Speaking of fireworks, there's been a local rivalry brewing between drum 'n' bass aficionados MJ and Mayhem, and wouldn't you know it, within the same week they both have celebrations planned at the Mark. On Thurs., July 7, the Transit event celebrates a year with an appearance from Ed Rush, Chris.Su and SKC, among others. And Mon., July 11, MJ celebrates his Jesus year, aka the 33rd year of life, at the Mark with appearances from Klever, Tester, Motion and Remedy, Kia, MC Race One and more. I bring this up because I think the hatin' needs to end this week and there's only one way to settle who is the most rinsin' of ever:
Both MJ and Mayhem need to dress up in baggy camo pants, sleeveless shirts, put bandanas around their heads and sport big-ass earrings. Everyone in Atlanta who likes drum 'n' bass needs to form a huge circle around them - except girls, there can be no girls. They need to hop back and forth in a circle, eyeing each other with the same maliciousness as drag queens caught wearing the same shoes. Then they need to take turns spouting off about how it was "back in tha dizzay" until the audience declares the winner by snapping their fingers and shouting, "Girl, rewind!" Afterward, they need to be shown a video of how ridiculous all of that is, hug, and go back to something more "useful," like debating the subtleties of jump-up vs. clownstep. Selectah, big up the massive!
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