Kate's Atlanta Super Bowl Travel Guide Part II: I Have A Stripper's Glitter & Baby Powder In My Mouth

First of all, shout out to my Super-Bowl-week-house-roomie who wasn’t even supposed to have a roommate until I came crashing in. She’s a ride or die rooting me on regardless of my life choices & I love her. (And also I love her for thinking I could get laid, especially considering my adherence to stretch pants/old running shoes for ‘going out on the town’ & my accidental dedication to ‘having a small mustache’.)

But on to the important talk.

At around 2am today (Wednesday morning) I rolled back into the Barstool house with a ravenous hunger that could only be quenched by what I saw before me; two huge bowls of seasoned mashed potatoes that I took a fork & shoveled in. (Spoiler alert: They turned out to be needlessly ENORMOUS vats of Greek tzatziki sauce & hummus, but whatever…).

Why was I so hungry in the first place? I’m glad you asked.

You see, I’d just expended all of my energy during a night on the town in Atlanta AKA – HOTlanta – as all the locals insist I call it.

Initially I’d gone downtown to write a cute blog about what to do for visiting tourists with the end goal of documenting the NFL’s ‘Super Bowl Experience’ at the convention center.. But *they’re lame so I decided not to go. (*I was not allowed in with my backpack so I needed a plan B.)

After posting a previous blog from New Realm Brewing I strolled further down the Beltline until I got cold enough to call a cab to “Little 5 Points”. Supposedly it’s one of the hipster towns of Atlanta & seeing as I’m too lazy to take a cab to Brooklyn back home, I thought this might be easier.

First stop – Elmyr; a dive bar with solid tacos that had a large group of young men with flannels & beards celebrating what looked like a Rob Zombie film opening. Three 6 Mafia was blasting, the food looked great, the bartenders were nice, & the beers were piling up. I was too afraid to ask what ‘Cold Grizz’ was (as advertised outside) but still had a nice time.

Next up, ‘Tummy Sticks‘, Barstool’s occasional & fantastic political commentator/fellow Marine joined in & brought me over to the Brewhouse Cafe down the block. A sliding glass door brings you into a smokey world of rugby & soccer scarves with TVs keeping you up to date on the latest bowling advances. There were old Christmas lights, darts, and an elderly man wearing sound-proof headphones who kept staring; my perfect vibe. After splitting a pitcher of Yuengling, Tummy Sticks & I had one final destination in mind.

The Clermont Lounge.

Ever the dumb tourist, I saw it on Curbed Atlanta & was intrigued…

Also, I’d seen an episode of the late, great Anthony Bourdain’s ‘The Layover‘ series where he goes to the Clermont Lounge & knew I had to check it out. Having only been to a few strip clubs in my day, this felt like more of my vibe.

You could smoke & drink inside, it was karaoke night with a separate stage, and the dancers were older. This was the kind of nighttime establishment where my stretch pants & jogging shoes would go unnoticed; right up my alley.

All the women there, no matter their age, style, or build, were up on stage doing their thang, and nobody dared question it. I loved them all immediately & admired their confidence and zero fucks given attitude. And having seen the Bourdain episode I was hoping to see the legendary Blondie & I lucked out…

After singing Everything Is Beautiful onstage & then rambling about how “the devil made her sound bad” & that she’s “more of a poet”, she came out to mingle. I was not disappointed. For $40 she smashed a PBR can with her boobs right in front of my face, signed it for me, and then pulled out three poems. All of these items were then smooshed into a ziplock bag, and when I’d shoved that in my backpack she straddled me & shoved her chest in my face.

I could not breathe. The essence of baby powder & surgical gloves encompassed me as I tried to catch my breath, but I was no match for Blondie. At one point she turned to Tummy Sticks, (again, one of Atlanta’s Barstool contribs) & full-on absorbed his face with her breasts. Sorry buddy, but also, you’re welcome buddy.

They’re strict about the no-camera policy, but after my lap dance from Blondie I did a karaoke set while an older woman spun her boobs around like two big ‘ol Dutch windmills & I may have peaked. Also worth noting, everyone I chatted up in there was here for the Super Bowl. NFL camera guys, dudes from ticketing companies, etc… It’ll be a good week for all the clubs. (No shit!)

Another great night in Atlanta, and tomorrow with Pup Punk at The Ivy will only be better. On that note, I should probably get some sleep. Wish me luck on trying not to wake up Kayce, and if you’re in the area, see you at Pup Punk Wednesday night!