Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Ahhh... the holidays. I love this shit.

     Ahhh... the holidays are upon us. I love this shit. I love it when everyone has a day off at the same time so there's no excuse not to see each other, and we all eat the same gluttonous feast we've been eating for decades, we remember the fun we had in years past and we make new memories for the younger generation. No, really! There's no punch line, I really do love this shit!

     This year I'm preparing to have the family over for a potluck Thanksgiving. It's a good thing too, because there hasn't been much work in the last month and the job we are on now might not pay until next month. We have no idea. The whole thing is kind of stressful because we have to fly Gage across the country to see his Dad for Xmas, and then we have to fly our new kid here with him on the way back. Things will work out, they always do. I'm surprisingly un-alarmed, actually. I must admit it does seem pointless to fly Gage back to California when he will probably only see his father for a few hours. The dude works non-stop, so Gage spends most of his time alone or with his dad's girlfriend. In my mind, that's $400 down the drain, but obligations are obligations, right? Grrr...

     Oh yeah, the new kid. I haven't said anything about it because I wasn't sure, but now I can say that we are very happy to be able to have Gage's best friend from California come and live with us for a semester, as sort of a trial run to see if he would do better here than back home. His Mom is ill and unable to provide for him right now, and for an undetermined amount of time, and he is unhappy where he is currently staying. B and Gage have been friends since they were 10, and he has always been part of the family. He's a great kid and the two of them seem to bring out the best in each other. They are also stupid teenagers and do dumb shit, but the core of who they are is pure gold. We have the room and the means, so it was really a no-brainer when the subject came up. So yay! I get a new kid! I didn't even have to push this one out!

     Back to Holidays. I run shit in these parts, so I arranged my Mom and brother's Thanksgiving dinner with my uncle (my dad's brother), and arranged my Mom to be able to go to Christmas eve dinner at Gage's Dad's, Aunt's house. So Gage's great Aunt on his Dad's side. That sounds weird, but Gage's extended family is very sweet, and I think once you're part of someone's family for 14 years, that shit doesn't just go away after a divorce. My Mom is totally happy.
     Our family here will eat too much and drink too much, maybe play a board game and some pool, and then demolish the leftover hors d'oeuvre's while we watch all of Family Guy's "Blue Harvest". That's our tradition.

     I am thankful for so much this year, I wouldn't even know where to start. Of course there's the health and well-being of my family and all that shit. But this year I am especially grateful for my friends. I have friends all over the country, and no matter how much or little I see of them they are always ALWAYS there for me and my family when I need them. It is truly amazing. I have a whole network of friends in our hometown that have helped my Mom and Brother get by since we moved to Florida. My bar friends... Not JUST bar friends, these people are are more like family. I have a hand made baby blanket from one of those bar friends; His 80 year old mother knitted it for my baby shower gift (which was held in that bar).
     And then my friends from kindergarten, from roller derby and my Mommy group friends, and my Mommy friend I met here in town...all such wonderful people and they keep me feeling connected even when "home" is so far away. Thank goodness for social networking! Husband is so annoyed by it, but it really does keep me sane and not ever feeling alone in this still unfamiliar place. I LOVE my friends, and I will always make the effort to do for them what they have done for me, every chance I get.

    
     Oh! Bug started speech and physical therapy! So far so good, but the funny thing is that the week before her appointments she started talking. 'Bye' 'Hi' 'No' 'More' 'Tickle' 'Two' and her version of Sesame Street, which sounds like, 'S-S-S-T'. Dude, it's like she's been holding it in all this time....I'm not complaining, I want her to talk, but I did kind of want to punch her for making me worry about her so much all this time. Oh well, won't be the first time I'll want to punch her...right? Just kidding, I don't punch babies, that's horrible! I just talk about it so I don't actually have to do it. Works for me!

     Well, I guess I better get going on the rest of the Thanksgiving preparations. I wanna get most of everything done today so that tomorrow I can relax once the family gets here. Yayyyyy turkey!


Saturday, November 2, 2013

The time I poisoned a strip club patron.

     HELLO!!! Yes, I know I haven't written in over a month, and that really sucks, and I will get into the insanity of the reasons why soon enough. First though, I need to get a true story out of me, since one of my friends brought up asshole customers in retail and I was reminded of this little gem.



     This particular story is one from my early strip club days, when I was a bartender. It was a fully nude club in California, which meant that there is no alcohol served there. Only soda, juice, coffee and O'Doul's, a non-alcoholic beer. That did not mean that dudes didn't come in drunk, because they usually did.
     During this time I was a miserable person. My marriage was shit, my apartment was infested with roaches, I felt like an ugly, plain-Jane around all these glamorous looking hookers, and despite the fucking SILVER SUIT VEST and button down white collared shirt I was forced to wear, I was sexually harassed by old, nasty men on an hourly basis.

This was my uniform. Hot, isn't it?


     Okay so, this one night we were slammed, and it was a Wednesday, so we were understaffed and I only had one waitress. My job was to pour drinks,  bar-back, cashier, take orders from the tip rail to ease the pressure from my server, and take food orders from dancers so the door guys could make food runs.
     An old man came in and told me immediately that he intended to spend a lot of money for good service and handed me a $10. I've heard this before, and a $10 bill was just enough for me to wipe my ass with, but I obliged his ego anyway 'cuz you never know.
"Of course Sir. What can I get you?" I asked.
"O'Doul's" he said.

     He sat at the bar and spent the next few hours pissing everybody off. He criticized every dancer that approached him. "You're too fat.", or "You smell like a fruit basket, I'm gonna throw up.", and called one of our Mexican girls a wetback. He only accepted lap dances from women without children because he "only likes tight pussies", or who were in college in their second year or more (which was only three), and would ask dancers to SPELL a random word he thought of to earn the chance to dance for him. Did we kick him out after all that? Hell fucking no! He was buying a few dances, tipping off the rail, and tipping me, so insults like "wetback" fly. STELLAR. He also had a crazy huge appetite for O'Doul's. He drank two or three an hour, and went to pee just as often. It was bizarre. He would also make me re-pour them if there was more or less than a half inch of head on the damn thing. He MEASURED it with his key-chain measuring tape. Because he was a douche.

     At one point it got really, super busy and I was running around like a nut. He watched me for a long time and then complimented me on my work ethic. "Um...Thank you." I said. He asked If I had kids...Uh oh....
"Do you have kids?"
"A son. He's 4."
"Married?"
"Yes."
"Stupid."
"Why is that?"
"Because you shouldn't have kids and work in a place like this. Your husband should keep you home where you belong. Or you should be a dancer. You have no tits, but guys nowadays are so lazy they'll pay for any dumb bitch to sit on their lap, tits or not."

(At this point I turn around, go get my manager, and tell him I need a break so I can stop myself from murdering this guy. He agrees.)

I come back from break and he starts up again:
"You in college?", he says with a sideways grin that meant he didn't think I was educated...
"In graduate school.", I lied.
He laughs hysterically..."No you're not. I went to Pepperdine. Where the fuck do YOU go? San Bernardino?? Hahhahahaaa..."
I searched my mind for the most impressive school nearby I could think of...
"Scripps. I'm a psychology major. Minor in special education." I didn't even know if Scripps offered those majors...
"You go to a dyke college??? Of course you do! You're a man hater because you have no body, you have a kid from a deadbeat, and you aren't pretty enough to be a stripper. Hahahahahaaa!!"

     It took everything in me not to jump over the bar and choke him to death with my soda and near-beer soaked socks. I poked my head around the corner to talk to my manager again, and told him what happened. He said he was sorry but he couldn't do anything and just to ignore him. WTF.
     My server came up and asked for change. I walked to the register and got it for her, with the asshole still laughing at me. Then I asked him if he needed another O'Doul's.

"Not now, dummy, in a few minutes. I still have a few sips. This one was too cold. I have sensitive teeth. I had to let it sit for a little while....You know what? How about you get me one, and when I get back from having a smoke maybe it won't be so damn cold. Can you handle that sweetie?"

Oh yes. I can handle that...

     What happened next I am not proud of, although I do see a sick humor in it. I could have (should have?) been fired and arrested for it, but I'm not entirely sure of the exact legal ramifications...

     I had to pee. And he likes lukewarm beer.

     I took a mug from the shelf, walked into the storage room, and peed in it. About...maybe 2 ounces. Then I brought it out, and proceeded to pour the most perfect O'Doul's ever in the history of fully nude strip clubs. The head was a perfect 1/2 inch, just like he wanted. And it was slightly warmer than 37 degrees. I set it on a fresh napkin, and went about my business. After a few minutes he came back in sat down, inspected the head on his "beer", and took a sip. And stopped.

     He looked at the glass and then at me, and my heart dropped. But then he said, "You finally got it right." and gulped down a few swallows. After he finished that mug he left without saying anything to anyone, strangely enough. And I was shaking with fear that somehow he knew and I'd get caught, but I never did. Nowadays I feel bad, but I also feel great about it. I hope that old shit bag is dead and worms are eating him. Bastard.

     So....I don't care to work the service industry anymore...