Yeah Buddy, and I’m Wonder Woman

Posted: October 4, 2011 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings, Viva La Douche

Okay people, here’s the situation: One of my main bar rules to my customers is “Don’t Overestimate Your Importance.” I really cannot stress this one enough.

Most of my peeps know what the hell time it is and can easily read the signs when I’ve had enough of the general public. Gotta love ’em for that. However, not only are there people out there who do not see the signs, they are so self-absorbed they have no fucking idea that signs even exist.

I have one such customer in my repertoire. and I am none too impressed with his shenanigans on an absolute regular basis. In fact, every time I see him I have an overwhelming urge to stab him repeatedly in the neck with a pencil. Normally I feel sorry for someone so pathetic in nature. But this guy cannot even muster any such feelings in me no matter how hard he may try.

First of all he is a total shit starter which irritates me to no end. Secondly, the fact that I could snap his old, somewhat feeble ass like a twig makes his tough-guy facade all the more ridiculous. As if that were not enough he likes to spout off constantly about how he used to be in one famous government agency or another. One day it’s retired Navy Seal … the next it’s former DEA. Now I’m all about makin up a good story. But jesus man, pick something that is at least somewhat plausible.

Another thing about this dude is that he always has to be in someone else’s business for absolutely no reason. In addition to that, I do not care for anyone who talks down to me or who can be overheard telling their girlfriend, “Why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth.” I don’t get into the middle of domestic situations unless there is physical violence but I also think that a domestic dispute should be just that, at your fucking domicile.

If you’re going to act like a tool you to people who — for whatever dumbass reason — actually care for you, then I have no respect for you. And if you’re going to try to sass me, and think for one second I’m going to put up with your bullshit, you’re dumber than you look my friend.

And that is saying something.

Now lastly — and possibly the most important — is this. During your shit storm of bullshit where you are over estimating your importance on such a grandiose level that I am almost in tears, you fucked up and got one of my patented verbal smack-downs.

This is how that shit when down:

Señor Delusional: Hey, I need you to come over here. I have to tell you something.

divebardiva: Yeah, what do ya need?

SD: No, really. I need you to come over here.

dbd: Dude, I don’t have time for this shit. What do you want?

SD: Come closer.

dbd: I’m as close as I’m gettin.

SD: I’m not gonna hurt you. You don’t have to be scared of me.

dbd: First of all, no way in hell I would EVER be afraid of you. Second, either speak your mind or leave me alone.

SD: Well, I used to be with (insert government agency here … CIA, FBI, whatever) …

dbd: Okay dude, whatever it is that you wanna say is none of my fucking concern. Why don’t you just call up one of your old work buddies on the Bat Phone over there and chat away. I’ve got beer to stock.


In NYC, I had an old vet who came in every day and asked for bullets. Every day, I told him no and gave him a Pabst Blue Ribbon. I love old people…truthfully, I adore anyone older than me. But this guy … not a fucking redeeming quality to be found. And I’ve looked.

So that’s my rant for today, people. I’m hoping to make a little day trip to Sneaky Pete’s in Minneapolis next week for a little day drinking blog post on the go. Stay tuned and anyone in the vicinity who would like to join, I think it will be Tuesday and we shall take the train.

With love and liquor,


  1. VT says:

    Love this post and love you, dbd! Looking forward to next week’s entry from Sneaky Pete’s!

    Vodka Toxic

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