The Jordans finally made it to Pemberton Place near downtown ATL to see the recently opened National Center for Civil and Human Rights, where we have a commemorative plaque, and where you can experience things like the sit-in counter (surreal), actual handwritten works from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and much more interactive and eye-opening history of Atlanta's part in the struggle for freedom and equality in America. Check the photos after the jump.
The beautiful and talented writer/editor Jacinta Howard and I got married on July 3 in Roswell, GA. That's kinda what's kept me from posting as often--wedding planning, man! We also just got back from honeymooning in Negril, Jamaica. Look for photos of our time on the beautiful island soon. For now, thanks for all the love and support!
P.S.: Feel free to purchase Jacinta's new romance novel, Better Than Okay, from Barnes & Noble, Smashwords or Amazon. It's only $2.99, and it makes a wonderful wedding gift! ;-)
Tickets for tonight are sold out (I know--janky hearing about it now, huh?), but you should still be aware that there's a barbecue sauce-making class happening every month at D.B.A. Barbecue, taught by chef/owner Matt Coggin, who is a ridiculously awesome guy and guru of smoked/grilled meats. Here's what you're missing tonight (my bad!).
Did you see the eerie slideshow Gawker promoted this week of dead American mall White Flint's food court? The original post came from a blog called Duck Pie, and the author points out that back in the late '70s when it was new and pretty, this now-doomed shopping center in North Bethesda, MD, was a glamorous consumer paradise hosting black tie events that were attended by the likes of Donna Karan and Elizabeth Taylor. Right. That was the '70s.
Just over a week ago, my uncle John Jordan passed away at 81 years of age. Just under a week ago, at his funeral, my father and I spoke for the first time in almost eight months.
Turn that over-fried turkey into your next best breakfast ever
Fried turkey is seriously overrated, mostly because it's almost always overcooked. Then, after every turkey-eating holiday, you have jerky-leather-like chunks taking up fridge space and you definitely don't want to eat it, yet you feel guilty about trashing it. That's where my mom's hash comes in to re-tenderize your post-holiday poultry and up-yum your remaining mornings of joy.
I am not here to recap the desolate and dry reality of this pitiful excuse for a carnival. I will not discuss how I was gypped (ha! because carnivals are run by gypsies!) for an extra dollar because they charge for two people if an adult has to accompany a child that's too short to ride an attraction by his/herself. I won't even revisit the fat woman on the concession cart who tried to charge me $5 for a caramel apple when the sign right in front of her said it was $4, and she still tried to stick to her spoken price.
I will merely turn this blog post over to my special correspondent, The Booger Bear, who will narrate a slide-story of images taken yesterday at Downtown East Point's carnival. The journalism is in her facial expressions, and the story is clear: East Point's carnival SUCKS.
This is where Michael B. Jordan shares his thoughts on the world with the world. Share yours back.