(We resume tales of two weekends past. Have been busy with work wrapping up before vacation, the latter now blissfully affording blog catch up time.)
Post Summerfest Saturday afternoon, headed chez Cheek to clean up and collect Slomack to head down to the 99x Big Day Out affair at HiFi Buys Amphitheater to catch Cake. Cake is the reason Slomack was in Atlanta. Cake is Slomack’s reason for being. Cake, and Chuck Norris. He paid for the tickets just to have a concert consort – good thing he doesn’t read my blog or my mooching jig would be up.
Their set was great, albeit a brief fi’ty minutes:
1. Italian Leather Sofa
2. Meanwhile, Rick James
3. Stickshifts and Safetybelts
4. Arco Arena
5. Frank Sinatra
6. Love You Madly
8. Never There
9. Short Skirt / Long Jacket
Kimplicated lent me a couple of Cake CDs for familiarization. Was bummed that they didn’t play my new favorite song,
“Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps”. The magic of YouTube yields this for your listening and guffawing pleasure:
George Takei would be thrilled. Wasn't he AWESOME as Hiro's father? But I digress. As is my wont to do.
The band signed autographs post-show. A drunk a**hole endeavored inappropriate queue insertion. We and our queue mates begged to gently differ, but his rejoinder was in the vein of "I gotta do what I gotta do." Well, miss young thang behind us went seeking staff and got the a**hole ousted. Girl gumption rocks!
Staying only for Cake's set, we departed, only to be rear-ended leaving the parking lot. Minor damage from bad driver chick's headlight nipples into Slomack's bumper.
Nickiemoto's was the Cake-head's dining druther. Funny. With his metrosexual hair I'd have thunk him a bit less sensitive to being in the thick of the gay rich men's Midtown, but to his credit, he gracefully wished our waiter the best of luck in departing the Atlanta ballet to seek out success in NYC.
Sunday morning breakfast sought at La Madeleine. Walked to dinner at Chicago's, where I recommend the Tilapia Mediterranean Style. Pub crawled to Charlie Mopps Public House.
Crawled further and slightly inside the Perimeter to 5 Seasons Brewing, where the Glenkevin "Wee Heavy" Scotch Ale was easily quaffed. Slomack was again thwarted by alternate lifestyle choices, as our beer maven was HOT but not of his persuasion. The long mosey back to chez Cheek was interrupted by a fall. Mine. Grace is not my middle name. A black asphalt driveway had the brazen audacity to be unlevel. Right knee planted, left hand braced the fall, right wrist bruised upon landing, left ankle same. Knee scrape wasn't bad, but the bruise is only now starting to fade, 2 weeks later.
Slomack is welcome back for more music, knoshing, and sloshing, but I'll need a designated walker with a flashlight. Those who know me well know that intoxication is not the factor here - it's rather one of genetics.