To truly appreciate the events that unfolded (or unzipped, as you would have it) this evening, I will give you a little history on the bar. Built in the late 1800's, breif stint as a whore house. Ah, the irony. I would have rather eaten iron, than see what I had to tonight.
Seriously, on the list of things I've had to deal with, and wasn't trained for, this tops it.
First, I must explain the "subjects". We'll call the female "Tina", better yet, we'll call her "Crazy Tina". She's about 5'1", double D's (that are always on display, of course) CRAZY 80's hair, and about 180-190 lbs. Oh! And, I'm pretty sure when she looks in the mirror, she sees a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. (Secretly, I want this mirror). Also, she's crazy, or bi-polar, or a ridiculous alcoholic, or a drug addict, or any random combination of all.
The male, we'll call him "Plumber Steve", who is DEFINATELY the town drunk, or a close second. Thankfully, doesn't frequent my bar that often. Every time I see him we have the same conversation, "I never get a good drink in this bar, but you haven't served me one yet." He never remembers, I have served him before, and I'm the one that cut him off the last time. "WHO'S YOUR PLUMBER?" It hasn't changed since I answered this question last week, buttnuts.
It's a typical, slow, Tuesday night, maybe 12 people in the bar. I'm conversing with a few of the guests when I notice "Crazy Tina" not only has on her "supermodel face", but "supermodel orgasm face". My gaze (unfortunately) moves down her arm. SHIT SHIT SHIT! Maybe I really don't see this. So I walk out from behind the bar, walk down the row of barstools, to the crazies. SHIT SHIT SHIT! She's jacking him off, F@CK!
SHIT SHIT SHIT!
I run to the back, all the while trying not to vomit.
SHIT SHIT SHIT!
Somehow I compose myself, cash her out, tell them that isn't appropriate in a bar, and ask them to leave.
It's Tuesday. What else is in store for me this week?
SHIT
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Second floor at the BOB. The ledge across the way. Up against the support. Guy totally has his hands between her legs. In my memory, she looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter's wife. Reality may be a bit different. All of us behind the bar and our immediate bar patrons stopped to witness this atrocity. Finally, someone shouted "Get a room!" and everyone laughed. The couple stopped to realize that everyone was watching them.
ReplyDeleteGood times.
There definately is NO OTHER occupation where the stories are this amazingly far fetched, yet true, and discusting. Seriously!!! I don't know what is wrong with people.
ReplyDeleteWhat about the road whore that flashed her knee-knocking droopy tits in the bar? The worst part about it was when confronted she said referring to the guy she flashed, "It's OK, he's my brother."
ReplyDeleteYes, Derek, this is a classy place! Like I've said a million times before...I thought I'd seen it all. It's like they try to one up each other, not only on the discusting factor, but on trashiness as well.
ReplyDelete