bartenderbaby

Things I am thankful for

 -Drunk people that do things funny enough to make me laugh/write about

-Thera-flu daytime to get me through work while I am dying of a cold

-my co-workers, who are the coolest and funniest group of people

-my family, who are really the coolest and funniest group of people

-Grey Goose

-The drunk girl who made out with the kid that ate a urinal cake…(this will make me laugh for days, no, weeks to come)

-my strange ability to have coherent conversations with seemingly incoherent people

-my incredible rubber band flicking accuracy

Things that I really am thankful for

-my husband who is super supportive and loving

-my son who allowed me to love in a way I didn’t know existed

-the rest of my family for being cool enough that I actually look forward to get-togethers

-my religion for reasons that I couldn’t begin to explain

-I can’t cover everything I’m thankful for without boring some of you to death (if dancing with the stars hasn’t beaten me to it…have I mentioned that I hate that show?) so I’m going to end it here. I hope you all have a wonderful thanksgiving!

This story actually took place a couple months ago, but someone reminded me of it recently so I thought I would share…

 It’s Sunday on a holiday weekend and because no one has work the next day a lot of people are out partying. Everyone’s dancing to the jukebox, sipping cocktails, and having a great time . One girl in particular catches my attention throughout the evening as she sways to the music in her ridiculously high stilettos, for two reasons. The first being that she’s barely wearing anything and that kind of skin exposure will make anyone look twice and the second is that she’s drinking like she just finished a twenty mile hike through death valley wearing those same stilettos.

The crowd starts to thin out as the time passes and pretty soon there are only about 10 people left so I start cleaning up. The trash needs to go out so I kick the door open and notice a man standing with his back towards me and one hand on the wall. I look closer and notice a tiny pair of familiar stilettos scrambling to get their owner to her feet. I feel blood rushing to my cheeks as the realization of what I just interrupted kicks in. I turn around and shut the door as quickly as possible, take a deep breath, and try to shake that image from my mind forever. (impossible) So I finish up a few things in the back before I poke my head outside to see if the coast is clear. It is. So I dump the trash and dash back inside before anyone else comes out.

I walk through the door to the front and time slowed (just like in the movies) I see dirty stiletto girl making out with a guy. A completely different guy than the one who previously occupied that same mouth just minutes before (except in a different and much dirtier way). This story is funnier than it seems because the guy she is kissing just so happens to be the same guy you back away from when he leans in to order a drink because you don’t want to catch whatever might jump off him. He takes home a different girl every weekend (without any scruples in the cleanliness of said women) and boasts about his “conquests” in a very descriptive way.  Blech! I don’t know who to feel bad for in this situation, stiletto girl maybe… she’s definitely got a round of antibiotics coming soon. No scruples guy possibly…because that’s just nasty.  Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

I feel like there’s a lesson somewhere in this story….

So, I walk into the bar to start my shift and low and behold who should I find perched at the table closest to the bar? You guessed it. Adam Whatshisface, the dick from last night. He and his group of “friends” are eating dinner. Super. Upside? I see my friend J sitting at the bar. At least I’ll have someone friendly to talk to.

The evening starts out on a positive note. They boys are being friendly so Adam must not be too upset about last night. I bring them a round of drinks and Chubbs (everyone in this town also has a nickname, which everyone knows them by…I don’t know a lot of people’s real names, strange I know.) tells me that one of the boys lost a bet and ate a used urinal cake yesterday. I’m not sure what to do with that information so I say, “Well at least your breath will smell fresh for a while.” and go back to the bar. Freaks.

 (Side note: later, I found out that shit is like poison and can make you sicker than a dog and/or die. So please don’t try it. Not that any sane person would)

The night goes on and it’s getting time to leave, so I ask if the guys are ready to cash out because I’m heading home. They all pay up except cake eater because he forgot his money (forgetfulness…possible side effect of ingesting piss cake?) and so Adam covers his bill but doesn’t tip for him or himself. Superdick.

I forgot to mention this same guy….the guy with the cake, a few weeks ago, took 5 shots of a special concoction that we make there at the bar and ran outside to puke immediately. We caught it all on camera and every-time I go out back I step over the barf stain. Ugh some people are so disgusting.

I live in a very small Midwestern town with literally one stoplight and one flashing light. I haven’t always lived here,but here I am. The people in this town are very friendly and obliging and in order to get myself better acquainted with the townsfolk I got a job at the local watering hole. This little bar has been my gateway into the circle of people that reside here. On weeknights it’s pretty low-key with some kind of game on the TV and a handful of regular customers discussing anything from the election results to their niece’s confirmation on Sunday. The weekends are a different story entirely. The bar is transformed into a completely different place with a completely different atmosphere, the only thing that is the same are the faces from the weekend before. Last night Red comes in and brings along two friends with whom I haven’t been introduced. Sarah and Keith. Upon our introduction I am immediately asked where I’m from, because it’s obvious I’m not “from around here” and what my last name is. That question inevitably leads to the “possible relatives” discussion. These questions I’ve come to expect because they are impossible to avoid in a town of this size and every single person I’ve become acquainted with here has asked the same questions. From time to time I make up some bizarre background for my own amusement and they always believe these ridiculous stories. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a good liar or they are just incredibly gullible.

So, I tell Sarah and Keith that my name is Mary I was raised in Pennsylvania within an Amish community but I ran away at 18 with a boy from town then we were married and settled here. They swallowed the fabrication without question, and continue on to ask how life with the Amish was. (Good Lord, these people are hilarious)

I come clean with my real story, which is terribly boring in comparison, we all have a great laugh and I get back to work. The door chimes and, oh joy, Adam whatshisface pushy and annoying walks in. When he’s sober he’s not half bad, but by the end of the night he’s seriously trying my patience. Last week I got tipped five bucks to slap him across the face, so I did. He was totally aware of my intent and angled his face just right so I could land a good blow to the left cheek. (Drunk people are so fun)

He immediately orders his regular drink and asks to start a tab. As usual he argues with me when I ask for a credit card to hold the tab but gives in when I raise a hand in a mock slapping gesture. ha-ha! He continues to be a jerk for the rest of the night however and I start to regret my little joke until he swaggers up to the bar and tells me I’m a bitch. I reacted so fast that he didn’t see my hand fly up to slap him again. and hard. He walks away. Later, when he closes his tab, he smirks as he hands the receipt back. No tip, but I don’t care it was totally worth it. Dick.