About Last Weekend | Misadventures in East Atlanta

JD McPherson at The Earl East Atlanta

JD McPherson at The Earl East Atlanta

It's been a minute since I've talked about what it is I actually do with myself over the weekends, and since I have nothing else to write about today, let's talk about all of the exciting things I did over the weekend. 

Pop your popcorn, grab a comfy seat, this shit is riveting. 

We begin our adventure on a chilly Thursday night in East Atlanta. My very favorite musician in the whole wide world, JD McPherson, FINALLY got his gorgeous self to this city, and I got all dolled up to cover the concert for my side hustle magazine/newspaper writing, and dragged my Louis along because he's like my binky. 

The show was at The Earl, and I had a genuine food fantasy boner of getting elbow deep into their Cowboy burger, moaning while I inhaled greasy tater tots, and washing it all down with a draft Stella Artois. Yes. I literally gulped air at my desk all day and ate nothing so I could fit this in my macros. I sipped peppermint tea all afternoon pretending it was hot barbecue sauce and onion straws atop a juicy nasty burger. 

Louis did not share this vision. 

I got burger cock blocked in the worst way. 

He suggested we go to Argosy, which is the hipster nightmare I told you guys about a few weeks ago when we went to The High. Since it was Thursday night and I'm sure there was a meeting about upcycled beard oil or something, the place was pretty empty and we were able to grab a table. Louis was excited because he loves the place, and his mission in life is to get me to 'expand my horizons' or some such nonsense. Our server, Corey Feldman with a side ponytail (legit) alerted us to the specials and 'arugula' was said entirely too much. 

I wanted a beer, so I perused the 120 page OMGCRAFTLOCALLYSOURCEDBEER list and settled on something called, "Wilted Blonde Goose Pepper" or something. I don't fucking know. All I know is it was only 5oz and warm. Kids, these days. 

Louis got his fancypants tequila and we decided on a lamb empanada for an appetizer. There was arugula and it tasted like feet because lamb tastes like feet. The End. 

I ordered the most Jenn thing on the menu and that was a steak sandwich on a ciabatta roll on a BED OF FUCKING ARUGULA. 

Louis ordered the Octopus, offered me a piece as I screamed and recoiled in horror, then I watched him eat suction cups and tried not to die. My steak sandwich was really like roast beef lunch meat and not a cowboy burger. Fail. But I guess my horizons were expanded and I got my yearly quota of arugula in. 

We then headed over to The Earl, and I got to be all fancypants because we were on 'the list,' but apparently I am a hilarious asshole when people ask my name because I say, "Gulbrandsen" and immediately launch into a loud, slow, spelling of my name, "G-U-L!!!" as if I know they are dumb and can't spell. I don't even realize I do it, but Louis now has something to laugh about forever. 

He thought it was hella rad that I had list privileges, and I got to brag about being a famous blogger and then we laughed because I'm nobody, I just write really good press requests. Laughing then turned to outrage as it was too dark in the venue for decent selfies. Like, is this even happening if we don't selfie? Lame. 

The opening act was eight songs long and torturous. I'll leave it at that. Sweet kid, good musician, but keep that shit in Starbucks. I've been in heels since 7am. Move this along so we can get to JD and go home. I know, I'm a jerk. Weapons grade dickbag, right here. Sorry, when my feet hurt and I didn't get my food fantasy, it makes me salty. I can't sit through mellow coffeehouse shit in that moment. 

When that was over, JD and his band came out and rocked the house. They are amazing, and I highly recommend checking them out. Everything. They played almost two whole albums, sounded great, and we were right there in front so I could make it weird the whole time with too much eye contact. 

About halfway through JD's set, my feet started to swell. I had been in heels all day, and we had been standing for about three hours that night. I could hardly walk by the time the show was over, and when we got outside to walk to the car, Louis took one look at my feet and screamed, "OMG YOUR FEET, WHY!" 

We really never handle anything quietly, huh. 

They were bad, guys. Like busted can of biscuits about to split the seams of my suede pumps bad. Like pregnancy feet on a hot August day. 

"Take your shoes off and walk barefoot to the car!" 

"I can't! We're in DeKalb County and I'll probably step on a needle!" 

"We're in East Atlanta!" 

So I walked barefoot for a couple of blocks. Then the panic became how I would drive home without my shoes on. I can't do a clutch barefoot. This meant shoving my Barney Rubble feet back in my shoes for my 40 minute drive home, not in East Atlanta, but what feels like Iowa at midnight with fat feet and hunger because you have literally eaten nothing but arugula all day. 

In Jenn and Louis fashion, this turned into a 1am night, and I collapsed into bed in a heap panicked because I had a huge day of meetings on Friday. My feet burned so badly in bed, I couldn't fall asleep, and wound up sleep deprived and cranky for my big day as I stuffed my fat ass cankles into ballet flats that begged for mercy. 

It really was so much fun, though. Always worth it, but that's just how we are. Making memories. 

I went into a coma after my busy day Friday promptly at 9pm, and after my run on Saturday, I went on a Cowboy Burger quest. I wound up finding a cool part of town I didn't even know about because I dared venture three miles past my home. 


It's not that I have a phobia, I'm just one of those people who doesn't crave adventure and if I have what I need, I'm content. I didn't have a Cowboy Burger in my comfort zone, and I wanted one badly enough to venture three miles. Sure it was at a Taco Mac, but STILL. I even went to Lowes! Lowes! And no one even asked me if I was lost and meant to be in a hardware store. 

After my big adventure and amazing cheat meal, I went home and had movie night with my dogs, because that's what I like to do. I like to watch movies with them and talk to them like people. They're psyched to have living room privileges and the last three bites of my food. I'm a dork. Don't care. 

Oh! I also ATE GELATO. Try not to fall over. I hate ice cream, but I wanted something sweet, and they don't sell creme brulee at CVS so I went with Gelato. You guys know ice cream disgusts me. Actually kind of enjoyed it! Will it sit in my freezer for a decade? Yes. But I ate some!


Sunday I went to Mass, ran a bunch of miles, made the dogs exercise, hated my life in Walmart, cleaned house, did yardwork, and burned so many calories I made myself fucking Thanksgiving dinner and wasn't hungry enough to eat like a champ. I left 600 calories on the table. Of course now, I'm about to gnaw off my arm with hunger thinking about glorious leftovers, but last night I was dainty for some reason. Ugh. 

So that's the story of my super exciting, action packed weekend. Don't emulate this wild lifestyle unless you can handle it and can hold your arugula. 


Jennifer Gulbrandsen