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3/11/2002

EAR PLUGS
Saturday we headed south to Jonesboro for the Scott Antique Sale, a MASSIVE bazaar that takes place at the Atlanta Expo once a month. The event takes place in two huge buildings and by the time we'd wandered around only half of one of them we'd already worn ourselves out. There are dealers and shoppers from all over, some coming from out of state just for the event. Everything from tikki to Tiffany to just plain tacky. But don't go expecting a great bargain, it's for serious antique hunters only. While I saw some things that were decent deals, I wasn't blown away by the prices, only the selection. I returned on Sunday and cruised through the second building and some of the surrounding yards and found a few things I'd love to have but nothing I was willing to pay for with my current income.
After Saturday’s trip south we headed to the Star Bar and were disappointed at the selection for their yard sale - I'd hoped to pick up some choice Star Bar memorabilia. But I was also relieved that the choice memorabilia that makes it the Star Bar was not for sale - apparently the new owners like it just how it is.
After degenerates JH and LH's officially unofficially housewarming party I'd intended to do Echo Lounge for Kelly Hogan but the $10 cover was just too much so instead we ended up at Lenny's. The Union was on stage as we arrived doing vaguely familiar minimalist rock with a vaguely Elvis Costello/Blues Traveler/Wilco feel. Not bad but I was having more fun observing the people formerly known as Dottie's Regulars who are making a concerted effort to become Lenny's Regulars despite the fact that the Lenny's bartenders just don't seem to appreciate them like the previous Dottie's staff did. Lenny himself was shaking his head behind the bar with a look of mixed confusion and irritation and was quoted as saying "I should make a movie about this place." He wasn't even there for the heights of Dottie's insanity or he'd know the movie would get an NC17 rating and be banned in 12 states, but lauded at independent and international film festivals for it's scenes of unbridled, raw glimpses of humanity, frequently at our lowest points.
Some other band I barely noticed took the stage, but by then the regulars were bickering and out-macho-ing each other by doing pushups on the sticky floor - and that was the women. The males formerly known as Dottie's Regulars just sat at the bar and cackled. Eventually "the push-up-girl", nicknamed by degenerate DC for her frequent habit of dropping to the floor to give someone 20, headed down to the stage to thrash around, knocking the mike stand into the lead singer and braking his glasses, whereupon he unceremoniously ended the show.
Which was fine by most people. We’d had enough Cabbagetown for one night.

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