Monday, March 3, 2014

We put the OY in Oyster Festival.

 It started out innocently enough. Me and KB, a nice New Jersey Jewish Girl, with me, the NY/CA/NH/PA/GA girl. There were lots of signs telling us where to go. Uphill. OY!
 There was the handbag check. False bottoms would have worked, as she barely checked and the guy in front of me snuck in his water bottle by jamming it under his flabby gut.
 This dude thought he was pretty cool. And the angry chick? She was just singing. She only dropped one beer and fell down once while we were near her.
Look, deer and beer. Get it? I got a free Jagerbomb from the biker dude at the Bloody Mary tent. You do not want to know more.
 This guitarist was sort of like Ozzy. Well, in that he had bad hair and was British. The band was called The Whizzers and Something?? OY!
 These guys grilled a whole truckload of oysters. they were hot. The oysters. not the guys. The guys were sweaty.
 These girls are saying, "But that's not what an oyster looks like. It's supposed to be on a plate with lemon and a fork, and a side of rice." OY!
 There were fancy table coverings everywhere. I felt like a Princess!
 KB found the ugliest oyster ever. We mocked it, then we sliced it open and ate it. Sorta like a girl fight.
 The celebrity anti-tongue salute. OY!

This is my finger 8 hours later, waiting for the MARTA train. The knuckle swelled up and bruised in another 3 hours. We are blaming the Oyster shucking knife. OY!
 This is our bucket of remains. Some others added to it and one guy came around and tried to steal our previously stolen lemons. Hey. What happens at the Oyster festival, stays at the Oyster Festival... unless you're reading this.
 We walked away from this place when it had a thirty person line. and then came back to try again, because hello? your tents are only serving BUDWEISER. OY!
This girl was telling her date how she wants him to um, dance with her later.

Maybe she will dress like this. Wait. Is that a snow shovel? OY!
  We went to a corner bar first. Across the street was this beautiful sight. I took bets on how many Midtown Hipsters would try to drag that back to their loft.
 We went to sit in the sun, up there, with some new friends. We ate meals that we forgot we ate. Thanks to the receipt crumpled in the bottom of my purse, we remembered later, and also noticed we paid for a shitload of drinks and someone's lobster roll. OY!
I won this shirt. Some old man tried to knock me down and take it. I gave him the stink eye and he backed off. Later, I gifted it to a guy at the bar as a prize for having the bushiest beard not on Duck Dynasty. I don't think he wanted it either.
 Here we are trying to look at two different cameras for a photo op. We had just tried promo Fireball shots. Yep. OY!
 This. Is. A. Midtown. Bartender.  You may look away now.
 It gets prettier at night, you notice?
Artful attempt number 503, according to my I-phone camera roll. OY!

 So that was an early start to my birthday month. Next up, Comedy night and strange dancing people: When Highland legs meet Latino feet on a skinny white girl. Stay tuned.
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