by Ivan S. on Ivan's Robot tour of Atlanta continues with a visit to O'Terrill's, Home of the BumBot2000. Before I get started let me just say that I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords. I used to frequent O'Terrill's pretty regularly in the past, back in the days of Johnny Midnight's Karaoke show. My name is still engraved on the Wall of Shame/Fame next to the jukebox. Back in those pre-BumBot days, Rufus (bar owner/mad scientist) himself would patrol the dark highways and byways of SoNo (South of North Ave.) armed with a bullhorn, a million candlepower spotlight and a set of brass balls. In between sets of "The Piano Man" and "Run to the Hills," we'd order food and watch Rufus dirty his Harry and harry the dirty with commands of "Move along!" "Please don't loiter!" and "Dealing drugs is illegal!" It was like a show WITHIN dinner and a show. And we loved it. With the demise of karaoke, it'd been a while since we've been back but on a whim (and an admitted desire to see the BumBot), we returned. It was good to see most of the same faces there. The menu is still the same as well: a surprisingly good hummus platter (though a little loose sometimes), Irish stew, a fantastic Rueben, and one of the best fish'n'chip plates in Atlanta. I don't have a sweet tooth, but I'm still a fan of their Guinness ice cream and Bailey's Cream chocolate cake. In the cases of booze-infused desserts, my lack of a sweet tooth takes a backseat to my latent alcoholism. Which brings me to BumBot2000. You may have seen the news stories, the bit on Colbert Report and yes, it's all true. Rufus built a remote controlled robot out of an old smoker, a three-wheeled scooter and some rubber mats and equipped it with a spotlight, a megaphone and a water gun to patrol the mean streets of SoNo. I have sung the body electric and I found that it's made out of an old meat smoker. Kind of like all those days hanging out in Backstreet. BumBot2000 was resting the night we arrived. Its vigilant eye was powered down and charging in the corner, away from any stray lightening bolts that could possibly give it sentience Short Circuit-style. (Ah, Steve Guttenberg, is there nothing you can't do?) Visitors are encouraged to touch the BumBot and bask in its menacing glory. Visitors are also encouraged to drink the "BumBot beer" which tastes mysteriously similar to PBR on draft. The BumBot is there. The BumBot will keep you safe. The BumBot will sell you BumBot beer and BumBot shots. I'd buy that for a dollar. Now excuse the BumBot while he goes on patrol. Somewhere there is a crime happening.
by Ali Woodham on ratecluber: Hey Keane, I haven't seen you in awhile. Where you been? Keane L.: My mom was visiting, so I had to show her around. ratecluber: Oh. --- ratecluber: Hey Keane, I haven't seen you in awhile. Where you been? Keane L.: My mom was visiting, so I had to show her around. ratecluber: Oh. --- ratecluber: Hey Keane, I haven't seen you in awhile. Where you been? Keane L.: I was having so much sex and drugs, I really didn't have time for DYL. ratecluber: Oh!! ;) sigh... Vessel is a nightclub. It's really not the place to be before 10pm. The staff is nice, there's a free coatcheck, and they pump soap onto your hands in the bathrooms (I don't tip for just that... it's lame, sorry. And lose the mints... It's gross.). FYI: the bathrooms are not "co-ed." Only the sink is. It's like pissing in a portable and claiming you did it outside. Drinks are served in plastic cups. Tacky. Memo to Vessel: Even if you don't have happy hour drink specials (which you should), at least change the early evening ambiance to one more appropriate for conversation. The chairs are sexy. Having to say, "WHAT?!" every three seconds is not. An attractive woman with a hot accent was describing how good-looking I was by listing every feature in detail, and I didn't hear a damn thing. Thanks, Vessel.
