There comes a time in everyone’s life where their resolve is tested to the core in a possible life changing moment of clarity that can re-direct their path to a higher state of being. This did not happen to me last night. Instead, I got to witness the pathetic aftermath of a grown woman in her fifties throw her keys at someone she was mad at, hitting one of my co-workers and a customer and then proceed to bawl her eyes out like a scorned thirteen year old girl. Actually, I have a thirteen year old girl that doesn’t behave that poorly, so my apologies to the thirteen year old female community at large for that last statement. But I digress. Alcohol is not for everyone, and in certain situations can make a perfectly rational person a complete monster depending on their state of mind. So, keeping this in mind, if you have been drinking and feel the need to throw your keys at someone, stop and think “Is this going to make me look like a psycho?” The answer will always be yes, it most certainly will.
“That guy over there with the scruffy beard seems nice, but I just don’t think he’s sophisticated enough for me.” So said the older poorly dressed stuck up weirdo sitting at the bar eating corn chips covered with microwave melted cheddar cheese drinking Diet Pepsi in my dive bar last night. Sorry to burst your bubble sweetheart, but you would be so lucky as to have a nice guy like that interested in you for even a little while. He is nice, polite, always pays for his own drinks and has a job. I have seen some of the “sophisticated” types that come in from time to time and the difference between them and this guy is that he will never talk down to you, make you feel beneath him or try to impress you with money and the important people that he knows. Trust me, you are better off holding out for the guy that will treat you like crap and kick you to the curb when he gets tired of you. It would be big of you to spare us normal folk the pain of being rejected by someone as important as yourself, so maybe you should go eat your trailer trash nachos somewhere more deserving of your presence, that is, if they let someone wearing a grease stained track suit in their establishment.
Why is it that some people just don’t get it? By the time you are in your fifties you should have at least a bit of self respect and half a clue on how to conduct yourself. Whether it’s in public or in life, this is something you should have learned through a few hard lessons and “character building” experiences along the way in your decades upon this planet earth. When you come into the bar at closing time with your “date” who happens to be wearing a red-wine stained blazer and a nose that WC Fields would be proud of, and start hitting on younger and hotter chicks than your Hawaiian shirt, cargo short wearing fat ass should even be talking too, you should recognize that you have a problem. Just go home, take care of business with your latest sugar mama (seriously, she should be checked for diabetes) and leave the rest of us alone, we are just trying to do our job and get home to relax. Some dead giveaway clues that you may not be wanted in the bar at closing time could be, but are not limited to, that nobody acknowledges your existence even though you are loud and obnoxious, when someone finally talks to you it is to tell you they are no longer serving and that they are closing and then when you keep hanging around you are repeatedly asked to leave because its closing time. If you can’t find a way to catch on to these simple hints there is no hope for you and you should just continue on being an obnoxious ass, because I’m sure that’s what will be happening. See you tomorrow jackass.
Well, its official, Creepy Old Married Guy season is now upon us. I had my first sighting last night and it wasn’t pretty. Two older guys came in, one with a wedding ring and the other with the obvious wedding ring indentation on his finger, looking for “Where the action is” in town, hitting on everything that moved in the bar. I have to say, the funniest part of the whole ordeal was the girl getting a drink at the bar noticing one of the guys about to say something to her and she turned and looked at him and said “I’m sure what you’re about to say to me is going to be hilarious and insightful!” and walked away before a sound could come out of his mouth. I actually laughed out loud at him. After one of them knocked over his beer, they must have figured out that it was a futile endeavor and split before the other one could finish his beer. I just never understood the whole “What happens in (insert any place you can go on a guys retreat and act like an ass trying to cheat on your significant other) stays in (blank)!“ I guess I’m just old fashioned, either that or I just don’t like getting STDs, bringing them home, giving them to my partner and ruining the life we’ve built together because I have to go out and poke some skank. Hey, whatever floats your boat.
I think a sitcom test run came into the bar last night. I didn’t see any cameras or anything like that around, but those networks can be sneaky you know. It was the perfect scenario, you take four friends, the nerdy intellectual (Rustle), the slovenly micro-brew hoodie wearer (Boner), the dreadlock guy with a Where’s Waldo hat on (Darnell) and a guy that looks like Napoleon Dynamite but with a leather jacket and a Jean Claude Van Damme pony tail (Jackson) and there you have it. A perfect misfit bunch of drunken scalawags out on the town to make a few laughs on a ski vacation, looking for a little action. First Boner accidentally insults a cute girl at the bar, her boyfriend gets mad so Darnell try’s to smooth things over and only makes it worse so Jackson has to step in and kick some ass while Rustle pays the bill so everyone can beat it before the fuzz shows up. There you go major network, there is your first episode of “Just Your Average Everyday Dipshits” and I give this to you free of charge. Only, instead of a fight they were just loud and obnoxious and didn’t actually do anything interesting. Yeah, so what, I make up shit in my head to entertain myself at work. At least I wash my hands after using the bathroom.