Monthly Archives: December 2011


My new laptop died.

It’s a weird, weird time in your life when Method Man’s Tical actually calms you down.


State of the MC, December 18 edition

Feathers in my cap:

  • Bar crawls in East Atlanta Village.
  • 3 am trips to the Majestic; omelets and grits.
  • Inheriting a multitude of Neil Young and James Taylor records.
  • My pachinko machine!
  • Reconnecting with old friends (also, high school reunion coming up!).
  • Videodrome
  • Having coffee with excellent people.
  • The excuse to speak Portuguese on the regular.
  • House parties at my house.
  • My alter ego, Chameleon (pronounced Cha-mah-lee-on), inspired by the crackhead who hit on me at Green’s Liquor at 11 am on a Saturday morning.  Hey baby, you be lookin’ real fine tonight if you know what ah’m sayin.
  • The guy at Hoa Binh who always tries to get me to buy 5 pounds of pork, plus duck and chicken, when I’m stopping in for my weekly char siu fix.

Black Eyes:

  • I hate cats.  I hate cats who open my door when I leave the house and chew up my digital camera.  I hate cats that eat my delicious char siu when I set down the takeout box to get up and get water.  I hate cats that come over and sit on my nice, clean blanket with the express purpose of scratching themselves and getting their nasty cat hair all over my possessions because they know I’m allergic.  I hate cats that chew on makeup brushes that I bought because the cat had ruined my makeup brush.
  • Yeah.
  • Not having enough time to see everyone I want to see.
  • Professors who don’t respond to your multiple requests for letters of recommendation even though they’d previously offered to write some.

gchats I have known and loved: Kroger edition

The context: I was asked by my friend H, who is currently out of town, what I’ve been up to this week.

The explanation:

So my roommate Alix and I were running errands on Moreland the other day, and we ended up going out further than we had realized–out past Edgewood, past Morelli’s, past the Starlight Drive-In, past pretty much everything, out, barely ITP, past a really sketchy plot of land-slash-Baptist Church compound that was completely walled in.  Then I noticed the signs for the state prisons.  That explains the barbed wire, anyhow.  (And then we started speculating about FEMA jail camps.)  There was a sign for Kroger in the distance.  We dubbed it Jail Kroger, but we turned around before getting there, lest we cross 285.  (Plus, we were starting to see planes land nearby, and it just seemed too ridiculous to have wandered out to FEMA Airport Jail Camp Land for no reason.)

Let me explain that certain Krogers in Atlanta have nicknames.  I’m not sure exactly how regional Kroger is, but if you don’t know, it’s a grocery chain, and the stores are usually open 24 hours.  I grew up near the Georgia Tech Kroger, which was near both GT and the projects on the West Side before they got razed in an urban renewal effort.  The Disco Kroger is in Buckhead and is named such because of its former proximity to The Limelight, an infamous strip mall club.

And of course, I live five minutes away from Murder Kroger.  Murder Kroger is on Ponce, and I won’t insult either institution by trying to explain that mystical convergence of forces.

When we turned around, we abandoned any hope of finding the Wal-mart where Alix had to make some returns, and so we rolled into the Kroger on Moreland (between Murder Kroger and Jail Kroger) to buy some items.  For some reason, it felt right to call it Moreland Krogs.

Moreland Krogs is the best grocery store ever.  It casually stocks fatback, smoked ham hocks (because we’re in the South here), tubs of chitterlings and chicken livers, ox tails, a vast array of legit soy sauces, all different flavors of Jarritos, and a ridiculous amount of Jamaican ingredients (I am looking at you, ginger beer and jerk seasonings).  All in the regular aisles!  Collard greens were $1.  So 1171 House fridge is now full of collard greens and fatback, and the next day off work, I’ll be making some stewed greens.

Then last night I picked my mom up at the airport around 10:30.  I hadn’t had dinner, and neither had she, and for some reason I couldn’t get fried chicken out of my head.  We drove up 75 to the OK Cafe, but they had just closed, and I couldn’t think of any 24-hour restaurants (mental list goes: Majestic, WaHo, R. Thomas, The Porter’s kitchen open until 2…), and then suddenly…Kroger is open 24 hours.  Kroger has fried chicken.

We hit up the Georgia Tech Kroger for fried chicken and cheesecake, and it was divine.  The ultimate munchies run.  Two different locations in one day, clear across town, and so much win all around.  And now you too will know to ask for the nickname when I tell you I’m running out to get groceries.