Santa Clause is a philanderer. Why would I say such a thing you might ask? Well, this may be an educated guess, but I think Santa’s illegitimate children here in town got together for a meet and greet last night. After all, he does get around all over the globe and sneaks undetected into people’s homes all the time then disappears after he leaves his presents. Would it be so farfetched to think he didn’t get a little action on the side? I think not. All the little bastards (proper use of the word here, not a derogatory slur) came dressed like their dad in sloppy loose fitting red garb, some complete with beards and the girls in skanky girl Santa outfits. The thing that I couldn’t figure out was the fact that the temperature last night was negative twenty (no kidding) and the guys were all bundled up, complete with long johns, gloves and boots, while the girls were prancing around (just a select few) with their egg-nog jugs hanging out looking like little Ho, Ho, Ho’s. Now, would Santa put his own kids on the naughty list? After some of the things I saw last night, I would hope so. Some of them definitely made my list.
People like to show their gratitude in a number of different ways when you work in a bar. There is the usual “thank you” the people that like to tip and occasionally a nice drunk girl will flash you her tits, whether you want to see them or not (no, sorry guys, that did not happen last night). However many different ways people like to say thank you for the good times I am always appreciative. Then there was that one woman last night that caught me off guard. She was a bit older and definitely way past the wrong side of sober, so when she wasn’t looking I pulled the last little bit of warm swill left in the glass and dumped it without her knowing. When I looked back around at her, she was drunkily glaring at the spot where she left her warm cup of piss and looked up at me with the old stink eye and says “I was finished anyway! You’re welcome!” and gets up and leaves all staggering and stomping. I’ve never been thanked with a “you’re welcome” before, but then, there is no shortage of something new happening when you work around booze and people for a living.
What do you call someone when they look like a hippie, smell like a hippie and act like a douche bag? Well, I’m going to say a pseudo-intellectual trustifarian jerk-off. Sorry, but when you look like a nerd version of Jesus, but act like a nerd version of a spoiled rich kid, I’m guessing mommy and daddy’s checkbook had something to do with how you now behave as an adult. The loudmouth know-it-all finally pushed it over the edge by slamming around the pinball machine acting like he was humping it trying to prove some irrelevant point to some other hippie chicks. That’s when I finally got to tell the guy to quit being a dumbass and leave. He took the aggressive stance of someone trying to start a scene and I squashed it by saying “Look man, I don’t care about you or even consider you for that matter. What I do care about is you abusing things in the bar and acting like a child. I don’t want to beat you up or even want to touch you for that matter, I just want you to leave now and not come back. Bye now.” To which he replied “That’s the nicest way anybody has kicked me out of a bar. Thanks.” That to me means the guy is a douche all the time wherever he goes and expects to get kicked out of places like it’s some kind of a game or something, maybe hoping to be attacked by an employee of the bar in hopes of getting to sue someone. I’m just speculating but people like that never cease to amaze me. So, to you hippie douche, expect the next time you come in to be denied service and asked to leave, in the most polite way possible of course.
If, by chance, you find yourself in a situation where two people that don’t even know you want to put a beat-down on you and the bartender is calling you out on your bullshit because you’re acting like a little kid, yelling and making a drama scene, maybe you have to take a look in the mirror to find out what your real problem is. Yes, that would be you. And when the bartender finds out that you have actually been starting shit with people a week ago and calls you out on it and your response is “Weird! I don’t remember that!” maybe you need to re-evaluate your drug and drinking habits. THEN when you come back to the bar that you got escorted out of and accuse one of the guys of slapping you around outside, when in fact that person never left the bar the whole time you were gone, you may need to seek a mental professional. Well, that and never come back into my bar again.
There is nothing more annoying at the end of the night than an angry drunk little foreigner that stole someone’s drink, falling asleep at a table. The funny thing is, while its extremely frustrating, it can also be quite entertaining. I went to pull the drink that he had ended up with while he was sleeping and odly enough, he must have some sort of Irish super power that lets him know when someone is stealing the booze he claimed for his own. He instantly woke up and looked at me through squinty eyes and slurred “Whathafuck d ya thin yur doin wit ma whishky?” I said “Well, you have been sleeping and don’t get to have this anymore.” What I really wanted to say was “I stole your pot of gold! Now grant me three wishes and I’ll give it back!” But I think I would have been laughing too hard to get that all out after I started. He got the hint and collected himself to go but on the way out he started talking shit to people and almost got beat up, that is until I told him to beat it out of there or I’d call the cops. As soon as I said that he straightened right up and got out of there, of course while saying his fuck-you’s (I think it’s Japanese-Irish for goodbye) on the way out, but at least he left, and that’s all I wanted. Miserable little man, your liver will thank me today.