So some assclown took it upon themself to break into my car last night. It looks like I forgot to lock one of the doors, so they just let themselves in. They emptied my glove box, making a huge mess all over the passenger side floor. Then they obviously got in the trunk and stole a bunch of clothes that were already destined for Goodwill. Now, these clothes were already on their way out of my life, but it pisses me off because THEY TOOK SOMETHING THAT DIDN'T BELONG TO THEM! They obviously went through my building's trashcans, dumping trash all over the driveway, so I had to clean that up as well. The weird thing is that there was probably five dollars in change in the ashtray and some tools in my trunk and glove box, and they didn't take any of that. Maybe they slept in there last night. Who knows? I'm just glad that I didn't walk outside to take a smoke late night and stumble on them, or maybe I wish I had. I would have yelled really loud. And anyone who knows me, knows I can be really loud. I'm also glad they didn't break a window. That shit's expensive.

So the heat of the summer is upon us here in the Deep South. I'm having to water my tomatoes twice a day just to keep them from wilting away. I planted some watermelon today, and I'm just hoping that I didn't start too late on them. But we get pretty long summers here (duh!) so I'll probably be okay. I've also never tried to grow them in a container before, so we'll see how it goes.

You gotta love Atlanta in the summer. You're nowhere near open water, other than the Chattahoochee River, but I'm not swimming in that. The air just kind of hangs over the city, all smoggy and nasty, and the trash really starts to stink. And the wildfires in south Georgia haven't helped the air quality at all (although I think most of those have been put out now. I was beginning to think Sherman was returning. I was hoping he'd burn Buckhead.). Why the hell would I go to New York with all of this right at my fingertips! So I was contemplating heading up to Moonshine Country for the weekend to visit Uncle Redneck and Aunt Goodtimes. They live way up in the northwest Georgia mountains and it's always a good ten degrees cooler up there, plus they're right on the Little River just upstream from DeSoto Falls. It's truly beautiful up there, especially right now when all the rhododendrons are blooming and you can sit on top of the boat house having a drink at sunset with the river breeze washing over you. But the trade off is that you have spend the weekend with Uncle Redneck and Aunt Goodtimes. Saturday would have gone something like this:

2pm: Arrive at the riverhouse.
2.05pm: After many hugs, unload car.
2.10pm: Begin drinking beer.
2.20pm: Begin drinking second beer and smoking fifth cigarette.
3.30pm: Put on bathing suit and pack cooler to walk down to the roof of the boathouse.
3.45pm: After navigating down 72 steps at a 45 degree angle downward, arrive at boathouse.
3.46pm: Climb up 17 rungs of ladder to top of boathouse, trying not to drop the cooler in the river.
3.50pm: Aunt Goodtimes begins drinking vodka and Co-cola. Uncle Redneck has been drinking since 11am, so nothing really changes for him.
4.07pm: Get bitten by the world's largest mosquito. Realize I'm not in possession of any bug repellent. Neither are Aunt and Uncle. Decide to tough it out since the sunset will be really nice.
4.23pm: Move on over to drinking bourbon. What the hell, it's the weekend, right?
4.24pm: Get bitten by even larger mosquito.
4.26pm: Uncle Redneck decides that he's had enough of the mosquitoes and the only way to deal with it is to jump off the boathouse into the river.
5pm: Uncle Redneck is still flopping around in the river like The Great Georgia Manatee. Due to his distance, Aunt Goodtimes and I are finally able to chat and have a reasonably good time. She's not drunk yet, nor am I. The Great Georgia Manatee is another story.
5.15pm: A pair of canoes appear on the river. Uncle Redneck tells them that his name is Zeke Woodall (a famous nudist from around those parts) and to "get the hell away from his property".
5.46pm: Georgia Fish and Game rangers show up. Uncle Redneck is still flomping around in the water (which fortunately has sobered him up just a little bit). They tell us that they've gotten a report of "a nekkid man" and that The Great Georgia Manatee can't be in the river without a floatation device. Uncle Redneck asks them if they'll give him a boat ride 7 1/2 feet to the dock since he'd be breaking the law to swim over there. They make him swim.

(editor's note: Never once has Uncle Redneck been actually "nekkid". He just wants strangers to think that he is.)


7pm: Everyone has stumbled up the 72 steps at a 45 degree angle up to the house. Aunt Goodtimes and I change our clothes while Uncle Redneck decides to start the grill. One should always let the drunkest member of the party start the grill.

8.30pm: Unbelievably, the steaks are cooked without a hitch, and we eat heartily. Then move on to more liquor drinks.

9.45pm: The party had degenerated into everyone talking over each other, fighting for headroom in the conversation.

9.57pm: Aunt Goodtimes realizes that she's out of cigarettes. Since everyone is too drunk to drive to the "corner store" (that is at least 7 miles away), she proceeds to smoke all of mine. Thank God I've hidden two packs in my bag.

9.59 pm: Uncle Redneck asks me if I have any weed. I don't.

10.15pm: Aunt Goodtimes gets all nostalgic talking about my late father, her late brother. Decides she needs to call my sister on her cell phone. Fortunately, my sister doesn't answer. She and I spend the next half an hour reminiscing about my dad while Uncle Redneck wanders off in the woods.

10.45pm: Uncle Redneck returns from his "walkabout", announcing that he just needed to "get up and walk and let the womenfolk talk".

11pm: Uncle Redneck decides that we all need to listen to the entire catalog of Atlanta Rhythm Section at 120 decibels.

11.23pm: Sometime during the second verse of "Champagne Jam" Uncle Redneck proceeds to tell the story of how he was at the "Champagne Jam" in Piedmont Park the year my sister was born and how my Daddy named her after an Allman Brothers song. We've all head this story about one hundred and thirteen times.

11.37: During the opening organ chords of "So Into You", Uncle Redneck asks me if I have any "co-caine". I don't. He proceeds to question me closely, "don't everybody down there in At-lanta sniff that stuff?"

I won't bore you any more with how my Saturday night would have turned out. You get the picture. Uncle Redneck would have passed out sometime around 1, and my Aunt and I would have stayed up til sometime around 2.30, just getting drunk.

I'm glad I decided to stay here in Atlanta. There may be people breaking into my car, and the rockstars are pretentious, but at least I won't have a run in with the Fish and Game Commission.