Douchebaggery & Dumbassery: A Lethal Combination

Happy Friday, bitches! Today I am going to regale you with a story of a douche so heinous that you will have to ask yourself, “Why is he still breathing?”

Well, let me tell you, by the time shit really started to hit the proverbial fan everyone was hammered. So they weren’t paying too much attention, or they had tuned the little fella out entirely.

Not having the benefit of numerous beers and several shots — and having to drive home eventually — getting wasted and simply ignoring the guy wasn’t an option for me. And I’ve learned it’s best to avoid striking a customer if at all possible (especially if he looks like a bleeder and might be bitch enough to call the PO-lice).

Also, bein a bitch myself with a lot of pent-up rage, I get worried that once that bell is rung…shit could get ugly.

Let me say first and foremost that I know what my job entails. I’ve had more hands on my ass in my 25 years of bartending than any person should have to endure. I’ve had people say vulgar and horrible things to me. I’ve been threatened, slapped, kicked, punched and had shot glasses chucked at my head.

Most of the time I take things with a grain of salt. I understand that a certain amount of dumbassery and douchebaggery accompany serving copious amounts of alcohol to people who already have a little “asshole” in ’em.

However, there are also days when I am pushed to my limit, and I let an assclown get to me. The following was just such a night:

Dear Sunday Night Douche,

I don’t know if daddy didn’t hug you enough? Mommy hugged you too much? Maybe your parents never smacked the crap out of you when you were rude and disrespectful to others.

Perhaps you are a latent homosexual and can’t come to grips with it so you lash out at those around you. (Come to think of it … I have seen you dancing shirtless with your arms over your head more than once.) Maybe it’s simply that you are just dumber than a bag of hammers.

I have neither the time or the inclination to Dr. Phil your ass so I have made a concise list of things NOT to do the next time you are in a bar. Especially mine.

1. I know you feel the best way to make friends is to buy them. It’s not. 

2. We all have asshole moments when we drink. That thing you probably shouldn’t have said or done. When your entire weekend is nothing but those moments…you may wanna work on that a little.

3. When sitting with a group, give others a chance to talk. Don’t talk over everyone and never listen. It’s annoying. And although occasionally amusing in your stupidity, you’re not half as interesting as you think you are.

4. Do NOT say to waitresses and bartenders, “I don’t care if I have a tab with a certain person. I wanna order from whoever I want. Can’t I just tip all you bitches, and you can shut the fuck up?” No ass monkey…you may not.

5. Stop telling everyone how many “chicks” you “bag” and how big your dick is. No one believes you. 

6. Every time someone takes out a trash bag don’t say, “Hey that’s my condom.” It was slightly humorous the first time you said it. But the six subsequent times … not so much.

7. Stop telling everyone how good-looking you are and then asking them to agree with you.

8. Stop treating everyone (especially the staff) like they only exist to placate you and your shitty behavior.

9. Yes, you have a nice car. But it’s not a fucking Ferrari so shut up already.

10. Stop touching people who have asked you several times not to.

And because all of the very best things go to 11…

11. The best way for me NEVER to wait on you again is to buy shots and beers for people for 10 hours. And then pick up the “lesbian tab” because they walked on it all the while telling me over and over it’s no big deal cause you’re soooooo rich. And then what do you do?

YOU STIFF ME ON $425.00 stating that I am a thieving whore and I added stuff to your tab.

Guess what, dumbass? Not only did I not pad your tab, but I bought you a few and tolerated your disgusting ass for 10+ hours. I also high-fived you when you insisted I do so — when I really wanted to shove my fist down your throat because you were so vulgar I wanted to stab my own ears with an ice pick just to tune you out.

And last but not least: Being too much of a coward to say it to my face and waiting until I had my back turned before insulting me.

So that’s it people. My rant for the week. In addition to teleportation, I will also be working on a way to spread the Bar Trash love far and wide. Hit a bitch up if you have any fantastic ideas.

With love and liquor,

divebardiva