Goodie Two Shoes

I love it when people are too nice. I’m not talking about the people that constantly compliment you or apologize for the smallest thing. No, I’m talking about the person that just sits there and takes it like the girl I had in last night. She was very nice, polite and cute but not dressed like a skank, which is refreshing in Bend since all the girls that THINK they are cute let their tits hang out and wear pants two sizes too small and have a muffin popping out of the top of them. This girl was just plain white toast nice. No sooner did I get her a drink and some creeper comes up and starts’ hitting on her so hard he’s leaving bruises. Of course she’s polite and engages him in conversation, all the while the expression on her face becomes more and more distressed. I get a chuckle out of it for a little while then make a nice comment about the guy’s beanie and pseudo beard, embarrassing him just enough to get him to leave her alone and walk away. She thanked me for doing what she should have done herself but was too nice to do, finished her whiskey, tipped and moved on. Some people are simply too civil to hang out in dive bars, I on the other hand, thrive on it apparently. What the hell, it pays the bills.

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Goodie two shoes doesn't drink whiskey. ;) You need a different stereotype for that one.

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Givin' The Dog A Bone

Last night, as I was getting toward the end of the evening and had already endured a couple of hour’s worth of dealing with some self important obnoxious business owners groping each other in front of some of their employees, when he walked in. Yes, this guy is what bad movies are made of. He was about forty five, had the bad boy bob haircut circa nineteen eighty something complete with highlights, a white turtleneck and a salt-and-pepper dick target (A.K.A. a goatee). All five foot nothing of him walked up to the bar, slapped down a ten and says “I need some ones and a five to gamble with.” Right away I knew I was dealing with one classy dude. As I hand him his change I noticed all the tell tale signs of the species I like to call Tweakus No-erectus. The classic meth user, dirty hands, bad complexion, clinched jaw and pupils so large you can’t tell what color his eyes are. I’m thinking “Ugh! More pain in the ass douchebaggery!” Then I look down and notice the necklace he’s wearing. Dog tags, no not like the servicemen that serve our country everyday all over the world, whom I respect greatly. No, it was an actual dog tag, like you get out of a vending machine for your dog so people can call you when your dog gets lost. It was in the shape of a dog bone, and this tool was wearing it on the outside of his turtleneck like it was something bad-ass! I just smiled and finished giving him his change. All the stress from earlier just seemed to fade away and I wore that little smile for the rest of the night. It’s funny how something that simple can put things into perspective if you just remember that ridiculous situations are just that, ridiculous, and should not be allowed to affect your mood in a negative way. In fact, I’m still smiling.

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Stick Your Tongue Down My Throat Like You Mean It!

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 couch potato, while the ladies in this tale of woe are between two-hundred fifty and three hundred pounds each. 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 seven chicks that society has labeled hot, 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 to knock the image out of my head. Thanks you ugly jerks, thanks a ton. Yes, pun intended.

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You mean I'm Not Cool? Oh No!

Being loud and boisterous in a bar is to be expected, but when you are yelling at the top of your lungs because someone doesn't like what you have to say, that’s where I come in. "Hey man, you're going to need to bring it down a little, ok?" Dumb ass says "What the fuck man, this is a bar isn't it?" Me, "Yes, it is, and the only person that gets to yell like that in here is me, at people acting like assholes, like you are right now so bring it down or get out!" He left, and tried to sneak out his drink too, so then I had to deal with that. I got the classic "Hey man, I thought you were cool!" and my response, as always is "I am, I'm still talking to you and I haven't called the cops yet have I?" Which is usually followed by a hasty retreat along with some mumbling about "Fucking bullshit..." Along with other nonsense. You gotta love people that do too much blow in public......

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Closed Mouth Gathers No Foot

There are great ways to open conversations with people and not so great ways that leave yourself open for embarrassment, ridicule and speculation about your character. Last night I was approached by a guy with so open ended of a remark, the possible outcomes were almost endless. The manly looking lad walks up to the bar, beard and all with a nice young lady, she orders a beer and when I ask him what he would like he says “I don’t want to sound gay or anything, but, ummm…..” And as I, and all the people sitting in the general vicinity, await his next few words, you could almost hear a pin drop. He looked nervous and started to stammer, that's about that time I can’t hold it in anymore and start laughing, along with all the others at the bar. So I say to him “Are you looking for something in a mixed drink? Maybe something fruity that you can’t taste the alcohol?” He shakes his head yes and I just looked at him and said “You know, if you had said something like ‘I don’t want to sound gay or anything, but I think you would look good naked.’ That may have made you sound a bit like you might be gay, but a drink is a drink and you should always get what you want no matter what your sexual preference.” So I proceeded to make him a Mai Tai that he was very happy with, and no, he didn’t hit on me, not that I noticed anyway.

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