A Study in Genetics

Have you ever noticed the later you get into the evening the uglier the people in the bar get? It’s a pretty common thing and rather easily explained. The good looking people are out earlier and either with the person they are going home with already or have hooked up with someone and left at a reasonable hour. Now as the ranks get thinned out throughout the night you are left with less good looking people and through natural selection, the uglys are left behind at the bar. As they get more intoxicated they start realizing that if they stand a chance at hooking up they must lower their standards and take what they can get. Now, I see it all the time and it’s not cool, I mean, with all these ugly drunk people having sex, the likelihood of them getting knocked up increases while at the same time, the other reality of the situation is that the kid will be less smart, because of all the brain cells destroyed getting drunk, and ugly because both donors are. I’m not saying this is always the case, but more often than not this is what I see happening at two in the morning.


It’s the post-holiday slowdown at the bar which is a great time to catch up with some of the regulars that I haven’t seen for a while. As I was greeting a couple of said regulars and asking them what they would like to relax with after a not so busy shift, I was interrupted by a voice off to the side yelling “Caribou!” I cringed a little inside and looked that way, sure enough, it was a tweaker. You see, for some reason, people that come into the bar all methed out like to order drinks with over proofed rum in them, like a Caribou Lou, even though they have no intention of actually drinking them (or tipping on them). At any rate I had other customers to attend to that had been waiting on me before she came in, so I finished my orders and was about to get to her and cut her off for being rude, and high, and gross but my co-worker beat me to the punch. She simply carded the spun out individual, whom did not have an I.D. on her and refused her service. Simple, that was that, end of story, or so one might think. Nope Tweakerella comes back into the bar and proceeds to inform us that she used to be a bartender and it was rude of us not to check her I.D. right away because she just wasted her time standing around waiting to be denied service. Yup, sorry, there’s two minutes of your life you’ll never see again, I’m sure you could have used that time to do something important like write a book, solve world hunger or, more than likely, find some more meth.

PDA Please Go Away

Ah, public displays of affection, it is a sacred act by two people telling each other “Hey! We think we’re hot together and want to share it with the world! We don’t care who sees it and how much it grosses everyone out that can see it! In fact, I am going to shove my hand down the pants of my make out partner and let him grab some boob just to show how secure we are!” And then it started getting gross. Yes, not only did it continue, but got even weirder, there were two girls and a dude that were going at it, right in the middle of the bar. Now, before we get some sexy erotic notion in our heads about two hot buxom beauties going at it with some hunky model type guy like in the “movies”, we have to remember, it is one in the morning and we are in a dimly lit dive bar. Said Dude is a bearded thirty something with the physique of a beer chugging, pizza plowing nacho noshing couch potato, while the ladies in this tale of woe are right along the same diet plan as their man. If you do the math, like I can’t keep myself from doing, we are looking at the flesh equivalent of five normal people, or twenty howler monkeys, that are about to get it on! Now, I’m not here to judge, oh, who am I kidding, I’m judging and I have to say, this ranks right up there on my ewww-o-meter at about an eight. I just hope they wear some kind of protection, and I don’t mean condoms, I mean helmets and pads. And Dude might want to hang an air freshener around his neck in case a sealed foul air pocket releases in the throes of all the nasty love making. Truly a sight to behold was this P.D.A. and unfortunately, I can’t hit myself hard enough in the head to knock the image out. Thanks you ugly jerks, thanks a ton. Yes, pun intended.

Verbal Diarrhea

Being in my position, I am privy to all kinds of conversations, good, bad or just plain gross and most people either don’t think about the fact that they are in a public place and can be overheard quite easily or they just don’t care who knows what they are talking about. Take for example the thirty-something year old guy trying to pick up on the sixty-something year old by trying to impress her with the size of his wallet and trying to get her to go back to his hotel room, or the two girls talking about their feminine hygiene problems. Both examples are things I didn’t need to know, but will be forever bored into the deep recesses of my brain. After overhearing one of these conversations, I was kind of shaking my head with a sour look on my face when one of the guys sitting at the bar, minding his own business, notices my dismay and says “What’s up man?” So I simply say “I can’t believe some of the shit that comes out of peoples mouths!” He just nods a little and says “Yeah, a lot of people should be wearing a mouth diaper.” Then I laughed a little and went about the rest of my shift with a little extra smile on my face when I heard stupid conversations, just thinking about that person with a little diaper over their mouth to keep from getting anything on anyone else. In my head I could hear the commercial in that cheesy announcer voice “New! From Depends, it’s the Mouth Diaper!” I don’t know, just the mental image cracked me up.

The Amazing World Of Boozieness

Hello everyone! I’m finally starting up Drunksnacks again. Sorry it’s been so long, but I’m going to be better about posting, the new page is a little rough but I don’t care, if you do I still don’t care.

Last night was pretty slow, mostly a bunch of regulars that I finally got to catch up with since we weren’t running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Of course the back patio is usually the place to find something interesting and as I walked back there, I was not disappointed. Sitting on the bench was a homeless guy with his phone jammed in his ear, sit-dancing to some questionable “rap” music. After observing this guy for a minute, it was very obvious that he was high as a kite. How did I know you ask? Well, he was high for one, also, he was flapping his arms like a bird that degenerated to him looking like he was having a seizure. Then he stood up, his pants were below his ass, thankfully he was wearing underwear, and while he was talking to himself he was looking around for something, on the ground, the table and on himself while not realizing that other people were even in the general vicinity watching the spectacle that was him. It was a simple “Hey man it’s time to go.” and he was off. It just goes to show you, when living in your own world, sometimes you just have to keep on keepin’ on.