Cups and Coasters
While my Hillary dream was a fascinating moment to share, it was really a chance to stretch my typing muscles, to tone up, to get back in shape for this bragging post.
I, blogging lads and lasses, spent Tuesday evening with beloved blog vivant Coaster Punchman.
CP was in town on business, and I selfishly didn’t share that news with local bloggers (sorry, cuz). Since hotels were booked all over the downtown and midtown areas, he stayed a hotel in my neighborhood.
Mr. Punchman has posted his memories of the evening. Be sure to read his post; he remembers more about the evening than I do. And his includes more adventure.In theory, it was going to be a perfect evening to introduce CP to the ATL. A couple of cocktails al fresco, then a two-hour cruise driving around the city, topping the evening with dinner at a neighborhood restaurant James Bearded for its twist on Southern cuisine.
In reality … well, plans are made to be broken, right? Especially when that grapefruit margarita is as tasty as it sounded on the menu. So, yeah, we made it for the cocktail or two … which I think ended up being five. Five divine margaritas. And no driving cruise around my lovely hometown.
Note to self: Always carb up at lunch for cocktailing. An empty stomach does not appreciate tequila.Tequila is my Kryptonite. I know my limit: four, no more. After that, things get fuzzy, ugly, confusing. Last time I went the full five dive, three summers ago, I ended up kissing my (female) friend in the parking lot. CP was spared that, but he did have one damn drunk dinner date. Whose shoe broke at some point, which added to her drunken, staggering charm.
But the conversation was fantastic. It’s liberating when you meet a blogger. You’ve never seen his face, never heard his voice — but you know his personality, interesting pieces of his life. Ice breakers aren’t needed. Dishing and spilling come easily. So did the cocktails — and thus I've spent the last two days thinking of more questions to ask and stories to tell. I think CP needs to come to Atlanta regularly.
CP is more charming and handsomer than I expected. Funny, smart, interesting, irreverent. We gossiped about the bloggers we love, gossiped about ourselves. I’m sorry he’s moving across the country before I get to NYC. Poor George should be called Lucky George.
• Coaster Punchman is adorable.
• Embarrassing hangover has passed, but my big toes are bloodily stubbed.
• Grapefruit margaritas are awesome.
• I plan to go cocktail-free ... until Sunday's bottomless mimosas brunch, that is.
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