Tuesday, May 17, 2005


I realized in my last post I gave short shrift to another pet peeve of mine. Motherfucking bartenders. Trained monkeys, the lot of them. And yet we revere them. We support them like we support the troops.

How the fuck do I make less than these assholes? Yeah, I'm bitter and I'm jealous. But should I not be? That a college education yields a job that pays less than that of a glorified Coke machine?

Every bartender on the planet thinks they're the greatest bartender in the world. "I make an awesome martini." No, you don't, fucktard. Ketel One makes a great martini. Grey Goose makes a great martini. You, my friend, pour shit in a glass. It's not that hard. I should know. I do it every fucking day.

But yet we're supposed to revere these people people who know the perfect ratio of Jack to Coke. But I already know the perfect ratio of Jack to Coke. It's three parts Jack, zero parts Coke. Everything else is just tipping the game in favor of the house. All jokes aside, do you really think there's that much skill in pouring a couple things in a glass? You've memorized a book. And often not even that.

And why do you think there are so many attractive bartenders and bartendresses? Because hot people like to rise to the challenges? Sure. Hot people who don't have to work for any aspect of their lives are just lining up for the challenge of alcoholic alchemy. 'Cause if there's one thing we know about hot people, it's that they love a challenge. That's why I tend to hang out at NASA and shit like that. It's shocking.

And, sexy bartendresses, please listen. I know you think that keeping the bottle opener in the waist of whatever butt-hugging getup you're wearing is sexy. And I'll admit. If I knew you, it would be sexy. But I don't. So all you are to me is a skank. And I don't need any skank thigh-sweat anywhere near the mouth-hole of my bottle. Just leave it on the bar in the spilled swill of the rest of the customers.

Off-duty bartenders. You're the worst. You're almost as irritating as non-smokers. I love to talk about alcohol as much as the next guy. But I don't need every conversation to steer itself to how you can rattle of the ingredients of some semi-obscure drink. Awesome. You memorized a book. Your parents must be somewhat proud. Maybe if you applied that book-learnin' to school you'd actually get a real job and not pouring drinks...

...making more than me.



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