Aside from the clothing, “novelty items,” and pretty much every single thing you can legally -- if shamefully -- purchase on Cheshire Bridge, Atlantans actually do have a few guilty pleasures that we don’t want the rest of the world to know about. If you happen to be a person that lives here, we’re willing to bet that you, on the low, enjoy taking part in at least some of the acts of moral turpitude listed below. But don’t worry: your secret's safe with us.
They’re so bad for your body, but so good in your mouth.
Everyone -- even Mayor Reed -- has at one point requested songs by Future and ‘nem at wedding receptions, birthday parties, Flywheel classes, whatever. If there's music playing, somone's requesting trap.
Attending art exhibits for the free wine
Wow, that (sip) painting sure is (sip) interesting. I feel so (swig) cultured and so-phisticated (gulp). Wait, how much!?!? As in thousands? Damn. Must’ve left my checkbook at home! Can you give me two glasses of wine this time, bartender?
Laughing at backed-up traffic when it doesn’t affect your side of the interstate
No matter how hard you try, or how much you believe in karma, you can’t help but wave at everybody stuck in a wall-to-wall backup just on the other side of the concrete divider of your preferred ATL roadway.
Feeling superior to people in other Southern cities
Nothing says “Southern hospitality” quite like welcoming your neighbors from Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, or South Carolina and telling them they live in hellhole food-desert redneck ghost-town swamps. But they’re always welcome to spend a night with you. One night.
People who have no business knowing who Gucci Mane is have joined the constantly recurring “Free Gucci” campaigns, and celebrate his album and prison releases like they were in jail with him. Then they go back to work on Monday to analyze the data and put PowerPoint slides together.
Drinking immediately after church
Only God can judge you.
Bragging about the women-to-men ratio (if you're a single man)
Mention it enough times to your single or married out-of-town buddies, and you might even start believing your chances of dating someone super-attractive this year are getting better.
Pretending to be VIP
Everyone sees you acting like you’re not supposed to be in this same line as the rest of us. And we’ll all make sure you see us smirking when you walk to the back of the line, after the bouncer informs you that your famous cousin must have forgotten to put your name on the list. Unless you somehow trick them into getting in… in that case... yo, hook us up!
Telling everyone you live in Brookhaven
There is no brag humbler than lamenting just how much of your income is being spent on that tiny townhouse you’re renting, and how you work so hard that you never get to spend time walking around your dog-friendly neighborhood with your vegan Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, who is also named Brookhaven.
Starting a Southern food blog
As an Atlantan, you are the only #foodie in America qualified to post smartphone photos of Chilean sea bass with locally foraged wild mushroom medley and infant Komodo dragon foie gras.
Telling yourself a stripper was really into you
The eye contact, the gentle shoulder rub, the conversation about Keynesian economics, the inadvertent brush on your nose -- it all just felt so real, right? Until you check your bank account and realize that you just paid her rent for August.
Gentrifying ITP neighborhoods while pretending to be invisible
Just always wear sunglasses, avoid turning your head towards the locals, and step with purposeful speed as you unload that Whole Foods bag and move quickly through the door of your Kirkwood two-bedroom.
Reminding everyone you're not from Atlanta whenever Atlanta takes a collective L
Whether it’s the national embarrassment that came from news coverage of the Snowpocalypse highway shutdown, or reports of just how much of a clusterf*ck Cobb County will be when SunTrust Park opens, there’s one tried-and-true way to separate yourself, and it’s called... "Well, my family’s originally from Chicago... "
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