bartenderbaby

You know when you find yourself in the middle of two conversations about the same event? Maybe you don’t but in a town this small it happens quite frequently, and that goes double for me because I work at a local hangout. I hear all kinds of gossip and rumors and little snippets of conversation that make my jaw drop on a regular basis. Now, for the most part, I try to stay discrete when it comes to airing other people’s dirty laundry on the Internet. I change names when I can, and for the sanity of my friends I usually try not to talk about them in particular. This story, however I couldn’t keep to myself because it’s just too funny.

I don’t like to talk about bodily functions, but I’m making an exception because at the bar the other night, my friend (nameless and half intoxicated) comes out of the restroom looking a little fidgety, comes over to me and says “You know when you have to pee so bad that when you finally go, you’re so relaxed that you fart a little?”  I laughed so hard at her that I almost peed a little, so yes I can relate. She goes on to tell me that she committed the ultimate bathroom faux pas while the other stall was occupied and was so embarrassed that she booked out of there and forgot her cocktail beside the sink.

I started making a new bev, while reassuring my friend that the other girl probably didn’t even hear it and definitely wouldn’t recognize her anyway and not to worry. Just then a couple of gals came up to order and while I was getting their drinks I overhear them giggling about some girl passing you-know-what in the restroom and leaving her drink on the counter. The gist of the conversation was that they were trying to figure out who it was by comparing the type of cocktail different ladies were drinking to the one they found at the scene. Holy crap. My friend turned about as red as the drink she left behind.

Very coolly, I dumped her drink and made another (different color this time) and as the other girls walked away I noticed a small scrap of toilet paper stuck to one of their shoes. Funny how karma works that way

I’m coming home from work yesterday (from my regular day job.) as I pull into the driveway I notice an old blue truck with a huge freezer in the back drive past. I get out grab the trash can and check the mail, ugh…boring every day crap. As I’m putting the can away that same old truck comes barreling into my driveway and this huge guy gets out to talk to me.

This situation might seem OK so far, but if you’ve read my previous blogs you know that I have a tendency to get abnormally frightened in normal situations. So immediately I start sweating and I get these crazy images in my brain about the two guys hacking me up in my garage and driving away with all my pieces in the freezer. (it’s messed up I know. I probably need therapy whatever.)

Anyway, so the guy whips out this paper and starts rambling on about some meat he’s selling and what not. When I don’t say anything (Because now I’m thinking about them selling my ass to an unsuspecting neighbor.) he grabs a box of steaks and proceeds on with his sales pitch. Most of which I didn’t hear, because I’m a big scaredy cat.

As it turns out I’ve heard of the company it’s called Simply Delicious Meats www.simplydeliciousmeats.com so I buy a couple boxes, the guy collects my money and goes on his way. My guess is that he tells this story at their next sales meeting, only I’m the fidgity lady that stares a lot and makes him do his pitch out in the driveway in the freezing ass cold.

Even though you don’t know it next door Nancy, it was I who saved you from a future life of cannibalism.  You’re welcome.

Alternate title for this blog: Passive aggressive celebrity slander. The movie. If you’ve seen it, you already know. If you haven’t seen it…well, it’s probably because you think Tom Cruise is a jerk after the whole “There’s no such thing as post partum and Scientology is awesome.” fiasco. I agree, but if you watch it you will understand what I’m talking about. We were discussing all the fancy crap and bottle flipping he pulls off in the movie Cocktails. The owner of the bar was home this weekend and informed us that he has some talent in this area (who knew?) so we decide to try our hand at it.

 With the help of my trusty sidekick/coworker Jane, we filled a couple of empty liquor bottles with water (you’ll find out why in a minute) and proceded to learn some flair. Now, I’m not going to go into specifics, but I can tell you that our spectators (a.k.a. regular paying customers, a.k.a. my fan club) got quite a show that night.

In the end Jane left with a knot on her forehead and a pretty deep cut in her hand but her pride and dignity were safely in tact (Due to the fact that her injuries were entirely my fault) . Mine on the other hand, was completely washed away as I felt the water rush over my sneakers from the first bottle I dropped (Now you know why we used water and not liquor.)  The second and third broken bottles only added to my humiliation and ultimate realization that there’s no way I’m coordinated enough to be as cool as I think I am. But I’m not giving up yet, this week we’re doing fire! I’m sure there’ll be a story to tell, so check back.

and Tom Cruise…at least you have flair.

Man, I haven’t had a minute to write a thought down in a quite a while. Maybe it just seems that way to me, but the holidays sure do give us a lot to do and even more to be thankful for.

We spent the weekend out of town visiting relatives. I think to a lot of people this particular holiday tradition is one to be dreaded. I’ve read so many blogs about family complaints and terrible family get-togethers that it seems almost common if not comical. Amazingly enough I seem to be one of the few who are truly blessed when it comes to great relatives. (Even my in-laws are wonderful…no kidding!)

I absolutely love spending time there. The landscape is picturesque with rolling hills, secluded woods with snow covered trees, a blanket of fresh white powder just waiting for the first sled to crash through it. The scurrying animals and twittering birds are all trying to gather up the last of their stash for the winter. Inside there’s a crackling fire and a freshly cut pine ready for decoration. There’s squishy furniture, cozy winter sweaters, kids running amok, and enough cards and board games to keep anyone busy all winter. We drink wine, eat fantastic food, and stay up all night talking and playing games. It’s like spending time inside a Rockwell.

OK, the Rockwell part might be stretching it. We have our share of dysfunction just like anyone else. (and that doesn’t include my overexcited toddler fouling up the bathroom with his half digested dinner.)  We all experienced a tragic loss earlier this year and it was incredibly sad, but somehow it’s brought everyone closer. To have something amazing bloom from great sorrow is sort of on the bittersweet side, but I am indescribably thankful for it, and thankful for these people I’m lucky enough to call my family.

As with most things in life, I’ve determined there are several different types of people who drink. On most occasions, in the world of serving, these people can be classified into two groups. Tippers, and non-tippers. Some people say that tipping is an optional courtesy. I’m not sure if they realize that most servers make barely legal wages (less than $3 an hour in most places!) So, the next time you go out think about how you would feel if you had to work for someone who didn’t pay you. That’s how I feel about serving people who do not tip me. It’s pretty much an insult, and when you come back for a refill I’m not as motivated to provide that same service as I would be if I had gotten paid for the last time I did. Ya dig?

Money is not the only motivator when it comes to serving. There are certain drinking no no’s I will share with you, that will make everyone’s experience a little more enjoyable.

1. Women are not excluded from tipping. Your drink took the same amount of effort as the guy before you.

2. Do not whistle to get a bartenders attention. That will get you ignored.

3. Do not ask how much a drink costs. That makes you look cheap and idiotic.

4. Do not call the bar and ask for someone who’s supposed to be there drinking.

      4a. I don’t have time to look for your boyfriend

      4b. I will tell you he’s not there even if he is and that will just cause bigger problems than you already have.

5. Last call means last call. Get your ass to the bar because if you wait for another ten minutes you’re not getting anything.

        5a. do not argue or beg for a drink after we quit serving. I know we might be friends but they stop serving for a reason. It’s against the law to do it after that time.

6. Don’t lean over the bar and wave money around. I’m not a stripper. I’ll get to you when it’s your turn. Damn.

7. When the lights come on, that means it’s time to go. The bar has to be closed with everyone outside by a certain time or it gets fined. So go already.

8. Nobody is allowed to smoke inside. Period. I’m not allowed to tell you it’s ok if you do, so don’t ask.

9. Don’t ask for extra liquor in your drink unless you want to pay for it. Don’t do it.

10.  THIS IS MOST IMPORTANT. Bartenders are friendly people by nature. I will smile at you and make small talk if it isn’t busy. This does not mean I want to have sex with you. If you see me being friendly with other people do not assume I’m having sex with them. Most importantly, don’t spread ridiculous rumors it only pisses people off and makes you look like an idiot.

Oh stinky smoke. I hate the smell of cigarettes. When the proposed law for non-smoking in public places was on the ballot I skipped happily to the polls to place my vote. Obviously I was not the only one to do so because here we are. No smoking….ahh bliss, clean air to breathe at work and no more going home smelling like a dirty ashtray. This is the life.

Wait, no it’s not. Now all the smokers are being denied their god-given privilege to pollute the oxygen inside where it’s warm/cool/dry. So who is right? This is the argument I get at least three times a week. (Never-mind the smokers’ patio that was built specifically for you.) Anytime I view my side of the equation I am harshly told that non-smokers can choose not to come to the bar. Now who’s rights are being denied?

That’s only the patron side of the argument. We could discuss the co-worker smoker epidemic too. These guys get all the breaks. Literally. They get little ten minute breaks all day long to go puff it up. Do non-smokers get the same deal? No. Generally, we have to stay inside and pick up the slack while they’re gone.

Then, there’s the trash factor. There are big butt receptacles by all the entrances, yet these puffers feel the need to flick their butts on the ground. That’s just gross and somebody has to clean them up. (Not me!)

I know my opinion is not that of the minority, the no smoking law was approved by a huge margin. Those butt-suckers can sure make you feel like it though. They rally around each other and gang up on us clean air lovers like we’re mortal enemies.

Well, I say to you smokers, when you wake up at 40 sounding like a 70 year old man with emphysema and looking at a catchers mitt full of yellow Chiclets in the mirror we’ll all know who was right.

When it comes to Christmas shopping there are three types of people. The first being the plan-aheaders, these shoppers start the day AFTER Christmas and hoard all their purchases for a year saving themselves the headache of last minute shopping in a crowd and long checkout lines.

The Second in this list are the season-shoppers. They are the people who start on black friday, who wake at an ugodly hour to sit in front of some department store to get a great deal on the popular electronic gift for that year. They are the most courageous of all, these cats will brave the possibility of being trampled to death in front of wal-mart all in the name of great presents!

The third and final type of shopper is the worst by far. They are known as….. duhn duhn duhn “the procrastinators”. They generally start their shopping on Christmas Eve, waiting until the last minute to pick up a couple gifts and telling the rest of their family that their gifts haven’t arrived yet, blaming the “damn postal service” for the delay.

Generally speaking I would catagorize myself somewhere in between the season shopper and the procrastinator, and this year is no exception. I went out for the first time yesterday amidst the holiday bustle. I walked into the mall, took one look at the crowd, turned right around and went to the bar for a few cocktails before trying to navigate in a mass of people that size. (That’s my little holiday shopping secret. Drink first, shop later.) After I have my fill of wings and beer, the mall doesn’t seem so scary…

If it had not been for two nice people who felt compelled to wander into the old watering hole last night I would not have had a soul to talk to…or would I?

That’s right I had a whopping total of two people in yesterday. They were both nice and I talked with them for a while. As a matter of fact one told me a story that was rather gross which I will share in a moment, but first I’ll tell you what  happened after they left.

The bar was eerily quiet, aside from the low background noise of the televisions, and I was starting to get really creeped out. Then it got really chilly and the hair on the back of my neck started to prickle. I tried to shake it off and focus on the TV until the kitchen guy was done and would come out to join me. I told myself I was being ridiculous and there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I’m a grown adult with a child and a husband no less, and here I find myself feeling the way I felt as a kid in my room alone at night. I would pull the covers up over my head and only let my nose poke out to breathe fresh air and then was I safe. I began wishing I was back in my bed with thick blankets and my mother just downstairs ready to rush to my side at a moment’s notice if I was too scared to sleep.

It was at that exact moment I heard noises coming from the next room. Nothing discernible, it just sounded like muffled voices and movement. So I gathered up all the courage I could muster and with the telephone in one hand and a pool stick in the other I peeked through the glass into that room….only to find it empty. OK, I’m letting my imagination get away from me. “You’re being ridiculous.” I whispered to myself. I put the stick back, went out to the bar and sat down again.

I shoved all the scary images from my mind turned up the sound on the TV and focused so hard on whatever was on (I couldn’t tell you what it was now) that I wouldn’t possibly be able to hear anything else, or imagine hearing anything else either. Eventually my friend came out and I was able to leave and that’s all that happened.

 Isn’t it funny how fear makes us feel and behave? That rush of adrenaline, racing pulse, goosebumps, and hair prickling on your neck…some people love that feeling. I could personally do without it, but hey, then I would have nothing to write about today except the story that one guy told me….which involves a stripper and a strategically placed beer bottle that may or may not have contracted a sexual disease. I’m not sure if my story was more interesting, but it was definitely cleaner and after the stiletto girl and the trannies in the ladies room I think I chose the right one.

It seems I may owe an apology for my lack of writing to my faithful readers (both of them) which I was ever so politely reminded of yesterday. Sorry guys!

It was an eventful weekend as you can probably imagine, with the holiday. The bar was hopping for four days straight, which almost never happens, and the festivities brought all sorts of people out of the woodwork to party.

During my very long shift on Saturday I took a much needed trip to the lavatory and as I waited patiently for a stall to open up, I observed a very large woman applying her bright ass pink lipstick. I didn’t think much of it until her even larger friend emerged from the stall I was waiting on. However, I had to pee so bad that I didn’t stop to consider the possibilities. I hurried inside, locked the door and turned to find that “she” left the toilet seat up. You make what you want out of that.

I also saw the original Joe Dirt. This has to be the guy that the movie was based on. He was seriously wearing high-top converse all-stars with tight fitting stone washed Levis a faded out ac/dc t-shirt and the mullet was downright beautiful. He absolutely adored it. He flipped his hair around like a high school cheerleader and was proud. I have to be honest, I was kind of proud too. This guy wasn’t your typical gross mullet guy, he kept his shit clean and polished. It was like he stepped straight out of 1987! No joke.

So I guess that brings me to the goth kids. I’m not sure why anyone would think that black lipstick and spiky collars make you look nice. The leather pants and platform boots look uncomfortable at best, and eyeliner on men has never been attractive. Never. These are the same people that try to start a fight if they catch you staring at them. Make up your minds, don’t wear attention demanding outfits if you don’t want the attention.

I’m not sure what it is about the holiday or perhaps the band that brings these people out of the woodwork. Where do they hide when there isn’t some sort of event to bring them out into public? Why don’t I ever see them at the grocery store or the bank for example? Just something to think about the next time you bring the kiddies to the park…on that note I would like to dedicate this blog to all the closet freaks of the Midwest. Thanks for not being crazy all the time!