Last night I was hanging out with Skiz’s dad and the neighbors. One of them invited me to crash on her couch, and even asked if I shoot boobs and nudity on my site… or, if I’d like to shoot hers. This was strange’ish since her ex husband was right there next to her. We were just sitting by the pool, telling jokes, and even funnier real life funny stories. Then there was this guy, Peter who showed up to surf at Couch 24. He’s been doing some work in the middle east. More funny stories. Then it was off to Rio Grande.
Rio Grande is this nifty Mexican restaurant in the Buckhead area. I don’t think I’ve driven through Buckhead during the daytime before. It’s quite pretty. The place was pretty jammed, and of course I found the last parking spot. I walked in and it looked like a regular restaurant. I walked through to the front patio area, and smiled. This place was cool. Lots of tables, a DJ booth, a VERY good looking crowd. There were tons of hot chicks…. One can almost make the fish-in-a-barrel analogy. I was moving between two tables. The one with Skiz & his date, and Derek, and the one with Vesna, Cari, and their friends.
I’ve pointed out previously that Atlanta has a high rate of fake boobs. It was pretty obvious at this place. There was this one girl who had a really big set of them, and one of her nipples was sort of showing. Not poking through, but actually hanging out a bit. I was amusing myself and my table by letting her know, across the room, at a shout “Hey. Your boobs are falling out!” She didn’t hear me, and the photographer taking her photo let her know. I was just being nice, and trying to tell her, so that she doesn’t have photos of her nipples floating around. That photographer was a gentleman though, so… it’s all good.
Cari, Vesna, and friends took off. Vesna asked if I’d like to come over to Andy’s place and party. I said I wouldn’t. “Why not?” “Because I don’t know them, and I have work to do.” There’s really more to life than drinking…. I’m not 24 anymore, and yes, my work feels more important, and I don’t feel like telling the same stories again and again at the moment. I’m no major celebrity (yet 
) - but I can imagine what a pain it must be always having to tell the same story. That’s why when I met Deepak Chopra’s kid at Couch 5’s, I barely talked about his dad. I told Vesna I wouldn’t mind hanging out at her place and watching Over The Hedge. That’s a pretty funny movie, and I was in the mood for funny. She had gotten a 2nd cat since I was gone. They left, Saira & Shaila showed (Shaila was one of the fun people that went Kayaking with us), along with some of their hotties. Vesna kept messaging me as to where I am, and if I’m coming over.
I decided I’d go. I texted her to confirm the address. She said I had the right one. It was still in my GPS. I said my goodbyes, got a box of my business cards from Skizzy (forgot them in his truck when we went to Festivals of Speed in Ft. Lauderdale in April), got into my car and drove. On my way, I called Couch 2, ’cause I missed her, and thought of her the day before…. when Kayaking. She’s an adventurous one, and sure enough, she’s in Chicago this week, going back to Florida in a few days, then it’s off to Spain. She had gone to Kochela music festival in Los Angeles, and the stories just keep on coming! She’s couch surfing while she’s traveling. So… look at that! I got a co-couch-surfer. We chatted for a little bit… I felt as if I was keeping Vesna waiting, since she had texted me a few times, and the “Where are you?” text… so.. I said my goodbye’s with Couch 2, and knocked on the door. I thought I was being funny by putting my eye completely over the eye-piece. The door opened, and Rene (Vesna’s roommate) opens the door. He looked surprised to see me. We caught up for a few seconds, when he informed me that Vesna’s not there. He gave me a cold beverage, and I looked for her other cat. The original cat had grown a lot, and was much better at staying in one place. I hung out for 10, maybe 15 minutes, and had tried calling / texting Vesna. She called, but had terrible reception. The voice sounded like Cari’s. “Where are you?” hollow and tinny through the phone…. “I’m at Vesna’s!” static… I thought cell phones don’t make static, they just lose signal. “what?” “I’m at Vesna’s” I repeated, I was sure I heard a laughter, and then nothing… my dial-pad had shown up again on my screen.
Rene looked at me quizzically and I smiled. “I guess you were right, Rene.” “Yeah.. well, if you say she didn’t drive to Rio Grande, and was already drinking when you saw her… she’s probably drunk.” “Well… thanks for the coke.”
Since Couch 29’s phone wasn’t answering, I got into my car, and sent the text “I am sure you think you’re funny, but I’m highly not amused. In fact, I’m pretty pissed off.” Back through the Atlanta skyline view at night, back to Couch 24 where my computer was waiting for me. My GPS - which I should probably name - gave me a wrong turn, or at least switched turns on me extremely last minute, so I had one of those feelings like “great… what’s next?” I wasn’t really angry. But I don’t like having my time wasted. That’s the last time I drive over there. I value my time in general. I volunteer it for people… to make them happy, to help out, to do work, to just hang out… but that’s voluntary. Showing up, and having to turn back around… that’s a waste of 1.75 hours that could’ve been used better.
I made my u-turn, got to where I needed to be, tried both front and back doors, and they were both locked. Skiz went with everyone else to the Pink Pony, and I didn’t feel like paying to see some chicks dance in a smoky environment. I called Skiz to see if Lloyd was home. I was a bit impatient though, and just rang the doorbell. The door was answered by Peter and Lloyd. Apparently, Lloyd was going to drive Patrick to the airport at 3am, as he had to go back to the middle east. We chatted for 2 seconds, and I had gone to sleep despite wanting to work. No point turning on my laptop and keeping the poor fellow awake.
At 3am, Lloyd came down, and tried to wake Patrick. He didn’t have too much luck, so I smacked Patrick’s feet, and he finally got up. Airports have no sense of humor (good title for a book, eh?) - and I wanted to make sure he made it. We said our goodbyes, and I returned to my slumber. I woke up a few more times in the night, and finally at 7:30am. I watched the last 2 episodes of season 3 of the 4400, while writing this. Now it’s off to the bank to make a cashier’s check and buy my 1st home. Wish me luck.
Share the love- social bookmark this
