Dear... (A weekend in Review....)

Dear Blaq,
I am really glad you came to the ATL and looked me up. I hope I showed you a great time because you really showed me one. I had a blast walking the parking lot and looking at all the hot “back-pack” boys in the 708 parking lot. I am craving another mojito from California Pizza Kitchen. I am still laughing at all the funny sh*t you said at Club Europe. Again, I really enjoyed the pleasure of your company. The next time you come to the ATL, you better hit me up! As a matter of fact, I expect you to stay in touch, period, Dammit.
P.S. Glad you got laid (just kidding... right?)

Dear Dwain,
When you host a party, you must be gracious to your guests. Calling people bitches and mutherfuckers is not nice. Allowing your cousin or housekeeper to do the same is also rude. And running out of ice is just not cute.

Dear Uncle Fe,
You know them was not your chips (pardon the ebonics, hun...).

Dear Turn Me Up a Lil,
You are an awesome guy and so is your friend. I cannot wait until you both move to the ATL. It really is amazing how you tend to fall into things… You really have no idea… I am so vested in your experiences already. And you are actually hotter in person than your cute blog pics portray.

Dear Traxx, Trademark, Extreme Entertainment, Wassup in the ATL,
It really sucks for people who come to Atlanta expecting a good time to be over charged for a couple of hours in a hot box. After the weekend, I felt like Oedipus and King Lear, gouged to the point of blindness.

Dear Man taking my money at Club Europe,
It was real F-ed up how the guy just in front of me paid $40 for VIP while you told me to pay $50. You as$hole. If I ever see you at a function I am affiliated with, I am going to kick you’re a$s out of the door. B*tch.

Dear B-free,
Great barbecue! As always, I am glad you invited me, even if it was the beginning of my decent into drunkenness. And about that boy… screw him. We both know that you are the real deal and that you can do so much better.

Dear Douglas,
I cannot believe you let me get THAT drunk on Sunday night. I know I should have stopped after the fourth rum and coke but with this recession, you never know when the next drink will come. And I cannot believe I went to the Chanel Ball with you. What kind of new fangled sh#t was that? The kids told me back when we dated that you would have me in some low places (just kidding). So now that I have gone to my first ball, I am truly, fully, undoubtedly one of the gays. And I blame you for that.
P.S. And about Thirsty…

Dear Friend of Parker that I Repeatedly Poked on Sunday,
I don’t know you by name but I am truly, fully, undoubtedly sorry for repeatedly poking you on Sunday. I don’t remember doing it because I was drunk, but if you say I did it, I don’t doubt it. I am sorry. I will not poke you (unless I am single and you ask me to) again.


Dear Double Dees,
Sucked that you missed the entire weekend due to surgery. Hope you feel better. And put them chicken wings and doughnuts down.

Dear Bloggers,
Clearly this was a great weekend and I really hate some of you missed it. Oh well. Sucks for you. Good thing that there is always next year.