Hotlanta. The A. ATL. A Town-Down. It goes by by a number of things. But for me? It’s just home. It’s the first real home I was able to create after I left the house I grew up in, 30 miles outside the city. Throughout the past seven years, I’ve watched the city attempt to become a real city (all of this from about 5 apartments, I think). While it’s not quite there yet (baby steps, guys), it’s quite the mash up of cultures, people, art, dining, tattoos and even bicycles these days. If you can allow yourself to really take it in–all of it–you’ll find yourself falling in love. It’s no New York and it’s no Chicago, but it’s original and playful in its own way. It’s Atlanta. Where else can you watch a 60-year old stripper crush a beer can between her boobs while she “dances” to karaoke on a Tuesday night? Nowhere. I’m also fairly certain we invented “Sunday Funday,” as the rest of the world now knows it. See my entire Facebook page for proof.