Buckhead Betties and Power Moms

I wish I had a picture... the route I take at least 2X a day through Peachtree Battle over to Peachtree, the one where I pass through on over to the other side of the tracks on the way home, must have more Buckhead Betties per square foot than any other piece of real estate in America!

The droves of ladies along the way are literally all highlighted blonds (like I'd know a thing about that), perfectly fit (sure wouldn't know a thing about that), jogging in the least skanky workout attire you will ever lay eyes on (not a ripped "The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own" tee in sight), and of course prancing alongside a Golden Retriever or behind a MacLaren stroller. It is soooo out of central casting, for some production I hear, that it's a genuine hoot.

I hope to snag some snaps or vid for you soon. Or tool along Peachtree Battle yourself for a stroll these fine spring days. But you gotta catch a sighting now. School lets out soon, and then it's off to St. Simons for the lot.

Sure gets hot and empty around Buckhead starting first of June.

Good Work If You Can Get It

To those who have asked, no, that new HBO show in the works, Buckhead Betty, has yet to hire me as a consultant. Although they are free to do so. And yeah, they should. They really should, especially since the creators aren't even real Southerners! Mon Dior. Read more here. Or here. Is there any other longtime Buckhead Something blogging besides moi? I don't think so. (Of course there's always Peachtree Screed, but he wouldn't know Samantha Jones from Sam Massell. In all fairness, he can tell you Vernon Jones from Vernon Jordan fastern' most folk. And hon, do NOT get him started on Dick Williams, Jim Wooten or Judith Miller.)

Atlantic Station Too "Mixed Use?"

Someone remarked that Atlantic Station was headed the way of Underground Atlanta. I took that to be some kind of urban code for "too many black people are hanging out at Atlantic Station, so sooner or later they will start shooting each other up, and white people will abandon the whole thing as will anyone with any sense."

Having been to Atlantic Station several times, I haven't noticed anything but a horde of overly-processed fashion victims and tarted-up yuppies of every flavor. Once, at a date-night (weekend) movie time, about 9pm, there was a family bringing small children into an adult movie.

But other than that, I can't say Atlantic Station is anything remotely like Underground. Atlantic Station doesn't have nightclubs that stay open until 4am either, as Buckhead once did, so there won't be a lot of black folks shooting each other up at closing time.

Besides, Sam Massell and his posse went in there and cleaned-up that Buckhead town anyway. All you white folks can spend your hard-earned money in hermetically-sealed peace now.

Don't Expect Much In The Collection Plate This Christmas

So my church is offering an Adult Education session, a Sunday school class essentially, where you sit around and talk about finding God "in the news." What made me snort out loud in the pew today while reading a description of the class in the weekly bulletin is that they are using the New York Times for the discussion, not the AJC, as they've given the class the absurd-surrealistic title of "Praying The New York Times."

What a smack to the hometown paper fer sure, considering there are assorted Cox offspring present in these particular pews on any given Sunday. Wonder for how long after that little item! Hilarious. Maybe they should try incorporating blogs instead.

Does Shirley Really Read Red State (The Blog)?

Just in time for the holidays, think Edelman -- the gift that keeps on giving. The City of Atlanta has. Edelman pops up to manipulate everything everywhere! Sprinkling PR fairy dust in their wake. Kinda like bloggers. Too bad they are just floggers. Technorati does biz with 'em, too. Why not join the flog party?!

Atlanta government is using Edelman (pro bono, see UPDATE below) to promote a city initiative to end child prostitution. Do we really want a PR company that specializes in creating and disseminating phony information to get mixed-up in the deadly serious, city government business of eliminating crimes against children?

I'm sure they are kings of the best propoganda money can buy (Edelman VP Michael Krempasky runs the righty, very popular blog, Red State, Shirley hon. Did you know that?), but the Edelman reputation is being paraded through the streets of the blogosphere -- for good reasons too. Will it end up on the block?! Tune-in to the ever-howling blogosphere to find out.

And for chrissake... like Peachtree Screed says, forget glossy PR campaigns! Use the energy and effort to send the johns and perverts and pimps and assorted child sex-crime offenders to Reidsville so they can get what's coming to them. In just the right place.

UPDATE: Someone who worked on the Hidden In Plain View study just let me know that the work done by Edelman for the City of Atlanta's campaign to stop child prostitution was done pro bono. At least no tax-payer dollars were, uh, misplaced that way.

The Atlantic Station Verses

The great writer, Salman Rushdie, is to be writer-in-residence at Emory -- for brief spells only. Still, this has Literati Disaster written all over it, given that Rushdie's bound to be overwhelmed with babbling Buckhead socialites inviting him over to their overwraught McMansions for a martini or two. And we all know that the only book ever read by any Buckhead Betty would be a cookbook by overweight, overwraught Pat Conroy.

Speaking of overweight and overwraught, raise a glass to the king of elitist, name-dropper prose when you hit the bar for happy hour tonight. The NYT master, R.W. Apple, died Wednesday. (Apple's on the left.)

The Pavement Ended In Buckhead

Edna Earle could sit and ponder all day how the little tail of the "C" got through the "L" in a Coca Cola sign. Eudora Welty, The Wide Net.

Just got back from attempting to live the dream - again. Made it about 48 hours this go-'round before I got so fed-up with my own kid, I just packed up and drove down the mountain laurel-laden road and on out of Lake Rabun, the tranquil, mountain home site to many seriously Old Atlanta families, with a few assorted Yankees and New Money types thrown in to give people something fresh to gossip about every other generation or so.

Here are the results of my Single Moms' Memorial Day Getaway Survey:

Number of novels-per-mom envisioned reading lying on dock: 2-4.
Number of New Yorkers anticipated devouring from cover to cover: 4-6.

Actual number of pages of novel read: 8.
Number of paragraphs of one New Yorker article gotten through without "Mommy, I'm HUNGRY. Fix me something NOW!" bellow: 10
Number of "Mommy, I'm cold"s registered: 76
Number of "Mommy, I'm hot"s: 156
Number of "Mommy, the other kids won't play with me"s: 1,242
Number of "Mommy, this life jacket is making me too sweaty"s: 246
Number of "Mommy, what are those teenagers doing in those bushes over there?"s: 7
Number of kids parading through room when just dozing off for nap: 5
Number of "Mommy, there's just too much water in this lake"s: 1
Number of "Just Stop Whining"s issued from Just-Settled-Into-The-Boxed-Wine-and John McCain-Article mom: don't ask
Number of Euro-trash nannys wished for: dozens