Clown Town Strikes Again…

Posted: May 30, 2011 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings, Viva La Douche

Or maybe I should call it “Ass Clown Town” for this particular post …

Okay people, the fact that I even survived this weekend — let alone have the strength to blog — is more than a miracle. I’m feeling the pain of Wild West on a grandiose level today (and might have to head over to my good friend Spooky’s place to have a few recovery beers). However, before I go, I have to touch on a couple of things that me and my fantastic bartenders experienced this weekend.

  • Hey 22-year-old, stop acting all incredulous about getting carded. You look like you’re fucking 12-years-old. And frankly, your attitude is annoying the crap out of everyone. I’m too busy to deal with it … as a bartender or a patron. I’m fucking sitting at the bar waiting patiently for my drink, and you’re holding up the process by being a spoiled little pain-in-the-ass.
  • Hey, can you pay attention to who you have a tab with? You’re sitting at a table, so why would you come up to me, order something and then mention that you have a tab? Do you have that tab with me? No, I didn’t think so. This also becomes problematic when you say…”I think she has blonde hair.” Really? Well, which one of our 4 blonde waitresses would be yours? No idea? You’ve been here for 5 hours, and you don’t know who has been waiting on you the whole time? Idiot.
  • Hey, when it’s really busy, can you stop asking what everything costs? You went from zinfandel to a myriad of vodka drinks, scrunching your face up every time I gave you the requested price quote. We got to item #5 in your cost analysis, and you settled on the cheapest thing in the bar (other than you): A tap Coors Light. You watched me pour it for you while I took other orders — because that’s what I do … it’s kinda my job. And then you decided to freak out and yell, “Well, if you’re not gonna wait on me, I’ll just leave.” Wow! Really? Go right on ahead and make my day. Listen, ya ass clown:
  1. You’re rude
  2. You take up too much of my time when I could be waiting on sane people.
  3. And you’re a cheap bastard.

The trifecta of dive-bar douchedom.

So that’s it for today, lovely readers. Stay tuned for my next post when we discuss the folks who almost got tazed, the kid I wanted to drop like a bag of dirt and another notch on my “Best Wingman EVER” belt. Hey, it’s just your typical Wild West weekend.

Sidenote: Thank you to all the wonderful bartenders who took such good care of me this weekend. And the greatest co-workers, customers and bossman in the entire world!

Love and Liquor,
The divebardiva

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