Fake boobs. Bad orangey-blonde highlights. Overpriced drinks, high heels, and adorable H&M outfits. Mmmm, it smells like a night out in downtown Atlanta!
I went to college in New Orleans, and got my fill of fun, tacky, drunken night spots where girls take their shirts off without reason and you could randomly get slapped in the face with a line of Mardi Gras beads; places where you would undoubtedly step ankle-deep into a puddle of fluid mixed with barf, pee, spilled liquor and dirty water, but there just has to be something said for the 20-something mixed crowd lounge scene in Atlanta.
A few weekends ago my girl Dev, her sort of beau Milt and I hit up CosmoLava, this hot downtown nightspot mixed with your fill of college students, recent grads, and random old couples who want to slowly grind to Brit Spears dance mixes in suits. Being the voyeur that I am, I spent more time watching everybody than dancing, and as to be expected, the lounge was filled with the usual downtown suspects.
What would a night out in Atlanta be without the line of brothas who stand against the wall staring at each other not because they are bored, but because they are the only people they see that look good? You know the type, the ones that probably have a picture of Kanye West on their nightstand, wear plaid scarves as necklaces, and have that annoying frohawk hairstyle that makes their heads look like neatly shaved vaginas.
Then there is the girl that is already drunk at 10:30, bumping into people and laughing and crying at the same time while her friends try to force her to sit at the bar.
Don't forget about the cute group of friends that show up for their weekly girls night out that don't dance, but just hold each other's hands and weave in and out of the dance floor.
My personal favorite? That has to be those Abercrombie types that wear scarves as shirts and those tight girlie pants. You can just look into their eyes as they sip on their cranberry spritzers and can tell that they just know that they are the snapshots of masculinity.
The most annoying? That prize goes to those VIP people who don't sit in their little reserved VIP area but out in the club while you stand, praying that someone will give up one of those rusty bar stools that take the pressure off your feet and onto your hips and back.
Who would I be? I'm the random fat girl who's wearing that shockingly stylish outfit that you can't believe came in my size. I'm that one that you look at with confusion on your face that you think you are masking, seeing that Fit TV has convinced you that there are no fat people left under the age of 30 that are still mobile. Depending on the crowd I came with, I may be that friend that you hate who stops that drunk girl from blowing you off in the back of your Honda or the girl who grabs that cutie you danced with to go home before you got her number or recited that line you recited in the mirror before you left that $2,000 a month downtown Atlanta condo you rent with nine of your frat brothers. I am the Big Girl in the City or the BG as I have nicknamed myself.
However, do not get confused by my descriptions. I am actually nice.
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