Tour of Homos: Felix's on the Square

Ending up at Felix's was a complete accident. After discovering that it's oddly unrelated neighbor, Oscar's, was closed for whatever reason, the other half of my own platonic odd couple, Jonathan Joseph, and I got in the car. Pulling out of our parking space, though, I stuck my head out of the window and caught a familiar whiff... like a ninja too desperate to stay in the shadows, my nose and I screamed, "Karaoke!"

You see, Jonathan Joseph loves to howl the self-fancied crooner's standard, Sweet Caroline. You may bare your teeth at the cliché but once those first two "Pluck. Pluck!"s hit, your ears perk up. Soon enough, you'll be howling in unison with the rest of the bar, "Ba! Ba! Baaaa!" like sheep. And Jonathan Joseph knows it. He loves being the one that people sing along with. The fun one who gets everybody all riled up. And you'll fall for it, because that's part of his charm.

So, not eight parking spots later, we abruptly pull over and hop out. After all, there was barely anyone in there. No long line of drunks in front of you waiting to butcher their own favorite pop songs! (Unlike another karaoke experience that I'm sure I'll get to in a later Tour of Homos.) Having saddled up to the bar, karaoke request slip in hand, I started to look around.

I like the smaller, less populated bars. You tend to find the seedier crowds and friendlier bartenders there. Felix's was alright. The bartender was indeed very friendly to me. Though, in fairness, he was actual friends with the adorable puppy I was chatting up. That puppy was probably the most surreal part of Felix's. His name was Dakota; his breed was unique but beautiful; his coat and teeth were shiny and clean; and, to my utter shock, he was smart, funny, and cool. In fact, most people there seemed surprisingly not frightening. Besides Dakota, I even gave my number to another male. He was a yappy but handsome breed.

But what made Felix's a good time, in addition to this slut with a heart of gold's ego boost when two males were sniffing my butt simultaneously, was the mix of surprisingly cool and expectably off the wall. I don't go on the Tour of Homos to meet nice, normal people. I go to watch the spectacle like that at the end of the bar. I'd say the highlight was when the twinky male escort (not a slam, but in fact his occupation) stripped down to his bright red jock strap and his needlessly shirtless friend sang Evanescence. To Felix's credit, singing Evanescence in public isn't a punishable offense. ... yet. And the wayward circus kids were asked to re-robe. Though probably not before the escort scored a few more clients.
Ending up at Felix's was a complete accident. After discovering that it's oddly unrelated neighbor, Oscar's, was closed for whatever reason, the other half of my own platonic odd couple, Jonathan Joseph, and I got in the car. Pulling out of our parking space, though, I stuck my head out of the window and caught a familiar whiff... like a ninja too desperate to stay in the shadows, my nose and I screamed, "Karaoke!"<br /><br />You see, Jonathan Joseph loves to howl the self-fancied crooner's standard, Sweet Caroline. You may bare your teeth at the cliché but once those first two "Pluck. Pluck!"s hit, your ears perk up. Soon enough, you'll be howling in unison with the rest of the bar, "Ba! Ba! Baaaa!" like sheep. And Jonathan Joseph knows it. He loves being the one that people sing along with. The fun one who gets everybody all riled up. And you'll fall for it, because that's part of his charm.<br /><br />So, not eight parking spots later, we abruptly pull over and hop out. After all, there was barely anyone in there. No long line of drunks in front of you waiting to butcher their own favorite pop songs! (Unlike <a href="http://marysatlanta.com/maryoke/">another karaoke experience</a> that I'm sure I'll get to in a later Tour of Homos.) Having saddled up to the bar, karaoke request slip in hand, I started to look around.<br /><br />I like the smaller, less populated bars. You tend to find the seedier crowds and friendlier bartenders there. Felix's was alright. The bartender was indeed very friendly to me. Though, in fairness, he was actual friends with the adorable puppy I was chatting up. That puppy was probably the most surreal part of Felix's. His name was Dakota; his breed was unique but beautiful; his coat and teeth were shiny and clean; and, to my utter shock, he was smart, funny, and cool. In fact, most people there seemed surprisingly not frightening. Besides Dakota, I even gave my number to another male. He was a yappy but handsome breed.<br /><br />But what made Felix's a good time, in addition to this slut with a heart of gold's ego boost when two males were sniffing my butt simultaneously, was the mix of surprisingly cool and expectably off the wall. I don't go on the Tour of Homos to meet nice, normal people. I go to watch the spectacle like that at the end of the bar. I'd say the highlight was when the twinky male escort (not a slam, but in fact his occupation) stripped down to his <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">bright red jock strap</span> and his needlessly shirtless friend sang Evanescence. To Felix's credit, singing Evanescence in public isn't a punishable offense. ... yet. And the wayward circus kids were asked to re-robe. Though probably not before the escort scored a few more clients.

Please Follow the Docent with the Rainbow Flag

I don't really like going out. I've got a bar, a TiVo, soft furniture, and a food bowl so I don't always see the need to leave my home and be around... people. But every now and then my dear friend, Jonathan Joseph, and I do like to grab our leashes go out for an adventure in homo skeeze. By which, I don't mean that we go out and find places to have slimy sex with each other but simply that we go to places that we don't expect upstanding citizens to be frequenting. The gay dive bars, the bear dens, the Adopt-a-Twink shelters, the nursing homes with liquor licenses. Those sorts of places. Sometimes we're pleasantly surprised and sometimes we're pleasantly uncomfortable.

So in addition to whatever other ramblings I transcribe here, I plan to post reviews/anecdotes/warnings/etc. from what I have dubbed (in a blatantly unclever pun) the Tour of Homos. Individual names will be changed to protect the innocent*, but I feel it is unnecessary to hide the fact that I live in Atlanta and as such will tell you exactly what place I am talking about. My hope is that these stories will be at least as amusing to read as they were to experience. Guess we'll find out...


*The innocent refers to me. The internet is a surprisingly public forum, and I feel no need to get whacked on the snout because of something I write here.
I don't really like going out. I've got a bar, a TiVo, soft furniture, and a food bowl so I don't always see the need to leave my home and be around... people. But every now and then my dear friend, Jonathan Joseph, and I do like to grab our leashes go out for an adventure in homo skeeze. By which, I don't mean that we go out and find places to have slimy sex with each other but simply that we go to places that we don't expect upstanding citizens to be frequenting. The gay dive bars, the bear dens, the Adopt-a-Twink shelters, the nursing homes with liquor licenses. Those sorts of places. Sometimes we're pleasantly surprised and sometimes we're pleasantly uncomfortable.<br /><br />So in addition to whatever other ramblings I transcribe here, I plan to post reviews/anecdotes/warnings/etc. from what I have dubbed (in a blatantly unclever pun) the Tour of Homos. Individual names will be changed to protect the innocent*, but I feel it is unnecessary to hide the fact that I live in Atlanta and as such will tell you exactly what place I am talking about. My hope is that these stories will be at least as amusing to read as they were to experience. Guess we'll find out...<br /><br /><br />*The innocent refers to me. The internet is a surprisingly public forum, and I feel no need to get whacked on the snout because of something I write here.

"I miss my brother..."

Sometimes, late at night when no one is around, my mind drifts back to the last time I saw my brother. His dark fur almost blended with the dark pavement as he laid motionless at the entrance to the old landfill. The smell was something unforgettable in the southern sun but I didn't mind. Having him there with me brought me comfort. Comfort I sorely lack at the moment. I had to move on from that spot, and it makes me sad because I miss my brother and the way he tasted. And in those sad, hungry hours late at night, I settle for a Milkbone.

Sometimes, late at night when no one is around, my mind drifts back to the last time I saw my brother. His dark fur almost blended with the dark pavement as he laid motionless at the entrance to the old landfill. The smell was something unforgettable in the southern sun but I didn't mind. Having him there with me brought me comfort. Comfort I sorely lack at the moment. I had to move on from that spot, and it makes me sad because I miss my brother and the way he tasted. And in those sad, hungry hours late at night, I settle for a Milkbone.<br />