Biloxxxi's Woodshed

The road system in Atlanta is an atrocity. I swear, the plans were drawn up by someone smoking copious amounts of weed who then threw up on the proposal for good measure. Aside from the interstate system, which is a travesty unto itself, there’s the 71 Peachtree Streets. Yes, you read that right. There are 71 streets in the metro Atlanta area that have some variation of Peachtree in its name.

Today I’m going to help you navigate the cavalcade of confusion caused by all the Peachtrees…

First off, Peachtree Street is the main drag in Atlanta. It’s like Broadway in New York City. There are other Peachtree’s but they all cower before this one.

Peachtree Street –  Midtown: The Connector to N. Druid Hills Road

I consider this section of Peachtree Street to be the heart and soul of Atlanta. It runs through its nicest areas, Midtown, Buckhead, and Brookhaven. The Fabulous Fox Theatre is also on this stretch.

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Other Peachtrees to watch out for:  West Peachtree Street runs parallel to Peachtree Street. for a few miles in Midtown. It connects with Peachtree Street. on the north end, so it shouldn’t cause too much trouble. There’s also Peachtree Place and Peachtree Circle, but they are smaller roads and there’s no need to be scared of them.

Peachtree Road – N. Druid Hills Road to I-285

Note: Peachtree Street changes to Peachtree Road after you cross I-85. As you head north on Peachtree, Peachtree-Dunwoody Road splits off in Brookhaven and then the road itself becomes Peachtree Industrial Boulevard as you near I-285.

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Other Peachtrees to watch out for: As I mentioned above, Peachtree-Dunwoody Road splits off and heads towards Dunwoody. A smaller Peachtree Road continues for a couple of miles after the Peachtree Industrial Blvd. split, but it runs back into Peachtree Ind. by the old GM plant. There’s also a smaller road, N. Peachtree Rd., that bisects Peachtree Ind. right before you get to I-285.

Peachtree Industrial Boulevard – I-285 to Buford

This is the confusing part of the Peachtree Adventure. Peachtree Ind. Blvd. goes straight up to Buford, but there are several places where another Peachtree bastard child bisects it. I swear, it’s like navigating Henry VIII’s wives.

The good news is, PIB is a limited access road through the first section, so you have to work at it to get lost at Peachtree Corners Circle. The big problem on this end comes when you get to Peachtree Parkway. It splits off to the left and keeps the 141 highway designation while PIB continues north to Buford. A lot of people will refer to this as Hwy 141, which is technically true, but pretty confusing if you’re coming from the south.

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Other Peachtrees to watch out for: Peachtree Corners Circle, Peachtree Pkwy (Hwy 141). Also be careful in Downtown Norcross. They have their own W. Peachtree Street and N. Peachtree Street There’s also a S. Old Peachtree Street in the area, but it only lasts for a mile or so.

Peachtree Street – Downtown: Connector to Whitehall Street

This is the Downtown stretch of Peachtree Street It’s the only Peachtree in the area, so you shouldn’t have any problems. Watch out for the prison as you get near Whitehall St.

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This concludes our Peachtree Street education for today. Hopefully you’ve learned something about navigating the grandest route in all of the ATL (Besides Ponce, of course.)

I’m sure everyone has heard about Big Ben Roethlisberger’s little adventure in Middle Georgia by this point. Normally, I’d just steer clear of this subject since everybody and their illegitimate step-son has weighed in on it, but I feel like I have to say something since it happened on what I essentially still think of as my turf.

Here’s the story, in case anyone missed it. Also, this article probably portrays Milledgeville, GA in the worst light possible. It’s a pretty nice place, but just like any other college town, when the sun goes down, the crazy comes out.

Capital City, where the incident allegedly took place, is part dance club, part concert venue. They’ve got a large main room where a DJ spins the latest dance crap and all the little sorority girls and preppy frat boys gather to vertically hump. That’s typically how Thursday nights go down. On other nights, regional touring bands play there. I’ve seen Luke Bryant, Afroman, Rehab, and some version of Lynyrd Skynyrd there. It’s a pretty big room, so you’ve gotta be legit to fill it. We played there once or twice in Idle Yeti to decent crowds.

Personally, I don’t think Roethlisberger is guilty of anything other than being a dumbass. Here’s a guy who has a ton of money, that most people are going to recognize, and he decides to go out drinking in the middle of nowhere, GA with a bunch of drunk college girls. How is this scenario going to end well?

Here’s my idea of how the events went down. Big Ben rolls into town with fist full of dollars and his entourage. They hit up a couple of the local clubs and every girl in a 3 mile radius smells a chance to remove themselves from abject poverty and convenes on his location. A few get let into the circle and backstage-at-an-Aerosmith-concert commences.

I’ve learned through my flirtations with Rock N Roll stardom on a small scale, that the unholy trinity of (perceived) fame, money, and copious amounts of alcohol can lead womenfolk to do things they might otherwise regret. I’ve watched it happen with my own two eyes. Sometimes things just go too far, and for whatever reason, somebody has to get blamed.

Who knows precisely what happened here? Maybe Big Ben and this girl fooled around some and she has a boyfriend. Maybe she feels like she was snubbed in some way and wants to get even. Hell, maybe she just wants money. I feel like every time there’s one of these incidents that reeks of gold-digging it marginalizes situations where a woman is actually legitimately assaulted. Most of the time it takes two to Tango, but the man usually pays for the dance.

Ben Roethlisberger is a great football player, and truthfully he’s about the same age as me, so he’s still plenty young enough to make mistakes. I make them all the time. I’d really hate to see him hang if this is whole thing is trumped up, but if something bad went down, he deserves everything he gets, and then some. Regardless, he needs to find some super models to hang out with. Squiring a 20 year old college student about town is a recipe for disaster. Believe me, I spent six years doing exactly that in the same locale.

PS: Big Ben, next time you’re in the ‘Ville, just hang out at Buffington’s. It’s much safer that way.

Here’s a post I found in the comments section on reddit. If you’re not familiar with reddit, I suggest you go there, lurk a bit, learn how it works, and then contribute to the community. It’s a great place, with a lot to learn. I thought this was an excellent post. Credit goes to a gentleman with the tag Kerrz. Please drop by and give him some upvotes. (Oh yeah, it’s written in response to someone who has just turned twenty. I’m a good bit past that, but a lot of the lessons still apply in your mid-twenties.)

1. Put 1tbsp of butter in a sauce pan on medium-low heat, add 1tbsp flour to the melted butter, mix until you get a doughy consistency, and cook for a minute or two. Add 1cup of milk. Season lightly with pepper, parmesan, basil. Let it come to a boil, then immediately simmer it. It’ll thicken up. You now have homemade Alfredo Sauce. Prepare to impress your friends, especially of the opposite sex.
2. Get involved in the things going on around you, even if it’s just your schoolwork. Sitting in a dark room using a keyboard to talk to people a million miles away is not a social life. Talk to the people at class, even if it’s just about the upcoming test. Join a club or something. Intramural sports are awesome. Varsity are good too if you’ve got it in you.
3. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Don’t rush it. It’s nice to be a fiercely passionate person in all walks of life, but it’s a lot less nice to be the guy who can’t think ahead, or the girl who can’t see the forest for the trees.
4. Slow and steady does not mean glacial. You’re going to get spread pretty thin in life if you’re doing it right. Learn to cut your losses on a project that’s not going anywhere rather than wasting five minutes every two months on it. Better to come back to it refreshed.
5. Exercise really is important. We harp on it all the time, but if you seriously want to improve the way you FEEL about life: go to the gym. I come from a wrestling background, and Dan Gable is quoted as saying “Once you’ve wrestled, everything else in life is easy.” Same thing with working out. If you go to the gym and work yourself out HARD a few times a week, you will come home and everything else will seem to fall into place.
6. They’ve all said it already, but it’s got some truth to it. Disregard females. Acquire currency. It’s nice to have someone who is a close friend. It’s nice to have someone who will sleep with you. Do not make either a priority. If you treat people right and respect them, they’ll be there in a few years when you’re ACTUALLY an adult, and you guys can start making plans. However, you don’t want to go out there wasting your time and money on somebody that’s going to have giant life decisions to make in a few years, one of which will be “Has it gone as far as it’s ever going to go?” Treat the opposite sex well, and feel free to spend time with them, but make it a fair deal, not a one-sided pursuit. Don’t waste your time and money on them until you’re ready to make a commitment to someone. (ps- At 20, you’re not ready.)
7. Take every opportunity to travel. Broaden your horizons. See the world. If you’re lucky, and aren’t digging yourself into student debt, go on foreign-aid jobs during vacation periods. If you’re like the rest of us, and need to make money, look into working abroad for a few years when you’re done. Overseas experience is a HUGE boost on a job application. Many countries offer “working vacation” visas.
8. Always have fun. Work is hard. School is hard. Find something that’s fun and keep doing it, no matter what else is going on in your life. Make time for it, or use it as a reward, but keep having fun. When your life becomes all work and no play, you become one of the drones helping to make this world a colder, more boring place.
9. Control your vices. Fun is fun, but too much fun is exactly that: too much. I like a drink. I set aside time and money to partake. It’s not a lifelong commitment, but it’s something I do to socialize with friends. I do not, however, fall down drunk four days a week. No one ever should. Once a week is plenty.
10. Milestones come and go. Woohoo! You’re twenty! Big deal. You said it already: “it doesn’t feel much different at all.” The same is true with holidays, anniversaries and other celebrations. Too much stock is laid into arbitrary dates. Make every day count. Do things for a reason, not for a season.
11. The brands you wear are less important than the total package. If you’re concerned about the way you look, it’s better to spend time learning about Colour Theory than it is to figure out where you can find a good deal on designer phones/mp3players/computers/pants/shirts/cars. Buy for build quality, not perceived quality. Buy to last.
12. Your taste in <insert object> does not define who you are. You are not a collection of songs, movies and TV Shows. Be proud of what you like, but don’t turn it into the definition of your personality (see: Goths, Trekkies, Metalheads.) Experience the multitude and be open to it all.
13. “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Gandhi was a wise man, and this is probably the most important thing he ever said. No matter what you want from the world: be the exemplar rather than the fool crying for change. Lead by example, and preach from that example, but do not become the hypocrite who strives for a green planet while trashing his own house.
14. Respect yourself. Far too often in life do we question our instincts and decisions. If you’re faced with unquestionable evidence that you’ve done something wrong, then accept it and move on. Until then, believe in who you are, and believe in what you do. You’re right more often than you’re wrong, even if you seem to be wrong an awful lot.
15. Get shit done. Work to completion. Finish what you start. Do everything within your power to make sure that the important things in life happen on time and with minimal worry. Procrastination is both a valuable stress-relief tool and a dangerous enemy. Use it wisely.
16. Learn the value of hard work. If you’ve never had a job: get one. ESPECIALLY if you don’t need it. When I was twenty, this was one of the biggest lessons I had yet to learn. I still haven’t learned the whole of it. Learn exactly what a dollar is worth to people. Learn how much it takes to earn one, and learn how much you can buy with one. Learn the lessons that money can’t buy you at school. Learn punctuality and teamwork in a real environment.
17. Set your goals and achieve them. Think about it now. Where do you want to be when you’re 25? 30? 40? Retired? Take some serious time and write out some serious goals for your personal life, your career, your fame and renown. If you want to be the billionaire madman with a harem and your face on the nightly news: plan it out. If your goals are much more humble: plan them out too. Even if you just want a nice, simple job with a wife and kids… start planning. Look at the road in front of you, or you’re going to finish school/whatever and be left with no idea where to go from here.
18. It’s okay to fail. Sometimes you are going to make the wrong decision. Accept it. Move on with your life. No one’s perfect, they only pretend to be. Learn from your mistakes, but don’t be afraid to make them. Someone’s already said it above, but you learn more from what you do than what you don’t do, and when you’re old and dry, you’re going to regret more the things you shied away from than the things you threw yourself into.
19. Don’t argue on the internet. There are exceptions to the rule. It’s one thing to make a strong argument. It’s a whole other thing to be dragged into a drawn-out fight with an anonymous stranger. Avoid the latter. It’s a waste of valuable time and you’re going to gain what from it? Superiority? Be the better person to start with and walk away from the fool that wants to waste his time arguing trivialities.
20. Stop asking for advice on the internet. How much time have you spent, TODAY, watching this thread for updates? If you NEED advice, the internet is a great place to get diverse viewpoints. You didn’t NEED advice today, though. Go outside and play.

Let me say this and not mince words. If you raise your children to not believe in Santa Claus, you’re failing as a parent. I don’t care what your argument is, it’s invalid. The joy in a child’s eyes when he or she wakes up on Christmas morning and sees toys under the tree that were not there the night before is unmatched. And as a kid, the breathless anticipation of what awaits you the next morning makes it so you can barely sleep. There’s always the argument that Christmas is a Christian holiday and all that, but really it’s the quintessential American holiday. Although the celebration of Christ’s birth and Christmas are the same day and share the same name, they’re two entirely different beasts. You can believe in Santa Claus without ever setting foot inside a church. They are not mutually inclusive.

Then there’s the Judaism thing. Celebrate Hanukkah with its eight crazy nights and then celebrate Christmas. Take your kid out to the mall to see Santa Claus. Have them bake cookies and leave a glass of milk out for Santa. For God’s sake make them watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. It’s joy, dammit! Do you know how little actual joy there is in life? Christmas is one of the few times I can remember being so happy I couldn’t hardly stand it. I’d kill to have some of those moments back. Finding out that Santa wasn’t real wasn’t a huge shock to me, because by the time I did, the realism of the world had already started to set in. Besides, I still got gifts and that helped smooth the transition. This story isn’t about how I came to find out Santa wasn’t real, it’s about how I stayed convinced for a few extra years. And try as you might, you can’t take those memories from me.

By the time Christmas of my 9th year rolled around, I had already been told by my classmates that Santa wasn’t real. My family never made a huge production out of Santa, but he came to our house nonetheless. I’ve always been good at “the suspension of disbelief” and I can lose myself in the entertainment of a movie or a book without concerning myself with its feasibility. Santa Claus played into this wonderfully. I was still happy to be young and naive.

That particular Christmas Eve when I was 9, we’d returned from the annual Christmas party at my grandparents’ house and were carrying out our usual Christmas traditions. This consisted of baking cookies and watching A Christmas Story on TBS. Christmas Eve was also the one night of the year that my dad would wear his Playboy night shirt. It really was as ridiculous as it sounds, and we loved it. A 5 foot long t-shirt with a big ass playboy bunny on it, made even funnier by the fact that my dad is not a small man. Such a normal family we were…

About 10:30 or so, my mom would usher me off to bed and and my older brother would have to follow soon too. She said it was because she had to finish wrapping presents, which she usually did. In my younger years, I would sleep in the extra bed in my brother’s room, so he could make sure I didn’t run off into the living room in the middle of the night and scare off Santa. I probably made that idea up in my mind, but what can I say? I’m a glutton for suspense.

This particular Christmas, I went to bed and tried my best to fall asleep. Not happening. I was way too excited. I can’t really remember what I’d asked for, but this was to be a banner year at the Lutz Residence. If I got even half of my requests, I’d be fully stocked on fun for months to come.

I awoke at the crack of dawn, and tried to wake my brother up. No such luck. He was in that middle to late teenage stage where you sleep 67 hours a day. So I rushed into my parents room to wake them up. “Go back to sleep till 8:00, then we’ll go open presents.” My mom said. I trudged back into my brother’s room, defeated.

I watched the clock tick until 8:00 and I was out of the bed the moment the digits rolled over. I kicked my bro in the back and hoofed it back into my parents’ room to get them up. They rolled out of bed and my mom just about had to grab the collar of my pajamas to get keep me from running off before my dad had a chance to find the camera. I was like a rottweiler rearing to be unleashed.

Finally it was time. I tore down the hallway, dodging the clothes hamper and wrapping paper rolls and laid my eyes upon the most beautiful sight at 9 year old could wish; a living room overflowing with gifts. I remember this as the year we got several Super Nintendo games. It might have even been the year we finally got the system itself, it’s hard to remember exactly.

After opening all our gifts and checking our stockings, it was time for breakfast. My dad would always make bacon, eggs, and grits for Christmas breakfast. As I was sitting there at the table eating with my family, he asked me if I had gotten everything I wanted, just like in A Christmas Story. I was sure that I had, but he said I had one more present in store. “Take a look out back.” He told me.

I giddily rose from my spot at the table, wondering what it could be, and peeked through the sliding glass door. There in the backyard was a brand new, full-size trampoline. I was in shock. That most decidedly was not there the night before. How else would it have gotten there if it weren’t for Santa? I was smart enough to know that trampolines did not come fully assembled from the store and certainly not on Christmas Eve night.

Mom made put on some warm clothes, but once I did, I jumped on that thing until she made me come in after dark. I had the time of my life on that thing. It was better than your typical trampoline too. It was about six to 8 inches taller than most trampolines and had much softer springs so you could jump really high. Over the years we devised countless games to play on it. Dodgeball, Criss-Cross, Break the egg. We even had a plastic basketball goal that sat on a table by it so we could dunk like Michael Jordan. Oddly enough, I never got hurt on that trampoline, which was pretty much a death trap; it had no mats covering the springs or those retention nets to keep people from flying off. It was my neighbor’s trampoline with all the safety devices that I shattered my elbow on.

Slowly, over the next few years as the realization that Santa Claus wasn’t real set in, I always kept this trampoline thing in the back of my head. I found out that Santa was fake long before I actually figured out how that trampoline got there. It turns out that my brother and my dad put it together in the dark after I went to bed. It took them till 1 or 2 in the morning to complete, and they did all that just to see the joy on my face. That’s what Christmas is all about, folks. Joy. It’s the most American of all things. Underneath all the commercialism and political correctness, there’s a smiling kid who just got the surprise of a lifetime and who gets to believe in something magical for that much longer. If you deprive your child of that, damn you.

Merry F’n Christmas!

We’ve all been caught up of late in the Tiger Woods saga. (He’s got his own ticker on ESPN, for God’s sake.) Everyone wants to know what went down and how he managed to wreck his car without being drunk. Obviously, y’all have never been in Atlanta, where people manage to wreck their cars in the most ridiculous manner ever, under the influence of nothing. Typically, it’s because their either foreign or on the cell-phone. (BTW, why do Persians* always drive Camrys?) The word on the street is that he was wallowing around with some New York beanhead, while his wife, Elin Nordegren, was at home tending to the youngan. Some sort of argument broke out over the weekend and his wife roughed him up and he wrecked his Caddy. The question on everyone’s mind is, why the hell would he cheat on that level-7 smoking hot creature?

I talked about Man-law and the pacts signed in blood last week. There are also a few life-lessons you’re supposed to learn along the way, typically from your father, but since about half our population doesn’t have those any more (or know who they are), that responsibility falls to a brother or an uncle or something. One of those cardinal rules is: Never Cheat Down. In other words, if there’s a steak dinner waiting for you when you get home, don’t stop at QT and pick up a chili dog on the way back to the house. Cheating is risky enough as it is, and it’s seldom worth the price you’ll pay in the end, but for the love of God don’t trade an old clunker for the keys to your Mercedes.

This happened a year or two back to Christie Brinkley. She’s probably the hottest 50 year old woman I have ever seen and her douche-bag husband cheated on her with an 18 year old. I can see the idea here, 18 vs. 50, but have you ever actually talked to an 18 year old? I’m only 27 and as hot as that sweet little thing might be, I can’t converse with her for more than a half hour without a stiff drink. Plus, there’s the added fact that Ole Douchery McGoo here has totally derailed his gravy train. There’s kids involved, who now hate Daddy. Plus, if there’s a divorce, cheaters get NOTHING!

Not nearly big enough

This whole thing with Tiger Woods is alleged, and honestly we should give him the benefit of the doubt. People do make mistakes and maybe he was just seen at the wrong place at the wrong time and really did nothing wrong. I do commend him on keeping quiet though. Far too often celebrities get up on stage and start apologizing to everyone. Screw that. Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt.

As my good friend, Jeff Schultz, mentioned in his blog yesterday, if all this true, Tiger should go the Kobe route and buy the biggest freakin diamond ring he can find. If he can’t reconcile with her, it’s gonna cost him a fortune. I’m sure there’s some sort of prenup agreement, but doesn’t that go out the window if you cheat? I’m pretty sure Tiger’s worth about 100 million, and I’m also sure that Elin would wind up with about half of that, plus a rather nice monthly stipend. I think I’d rather just die and give Obama his 40% cut.

*Anyone of unknown middle eastern descent is henceforth known as Persian.