Step Right Up…

Much like the rat from Charlotte’s Web taught us that the fair, it is a veritable smorgasbord-morgasbord-orgasbord, some really drunk guy at the bar this weekend told us that the bar is — and I quote — “a carnival ride of pussy.”  Since I was the only female in the joint at the time, I guess I’m… flattered?

I also learned several other things working at the bar this weekend… including:

1.  White people, God love us, TRULY cannot dance.  But we do try, bless our pea-pickin’ little hearts… and black people are kind about it.

2.  No matter how many songs you have in your playlist, drunks can think of something different.  They don’t know who sings it, what it’s called, or how it goes… but dammit, they wanna hear it!

3.  One should never wear a t-shirt that carries a slogan that one cannot back up.  Example:  If your t-shirt says “I get more pussy than a toilet seat,” I should not look at you and be forced to assume you are a gynecologist.

4.  Really thumping bass will keep you good and regular.

5.  If you have really giant, terrifying boobs, you need to cover that shit up if you expect me to hear what you’re saying.  Rather like a 13-year-old boy, it seems giant boobs make me go deaf.

5.a.  Probably at least 1 person in a DJ team should NOT suffer from tit-deafness.  Woops.

5.b.  Correction:  In Chuckweasel’s case, it is apparently NOT tit-deafness, it’s just regular deafness.  Therefore, in addition to my duties as Dance Commander and Request Taker, I am also the Official Listener.

6.  Chuckweasel is also not very fluent in Drunkenese (I blame his childhood).  So my new Indian name is Speaker-to-Winos.

7.  Sequins are sharper than they look.

8.  Drunk girls will CONSTANTLY put their tit on you.  And they don’t really seem to notice it, so there’s no polite way to free yourself.

9.  When I see chubby GIRLS with attractive Significant Others, I assume they must have other valuable qualities.  When I see a chubby DUDE with an entourage of hot chicks… I assume he has money.

10.  When a bartender asks you to try a drink he just invented — that shit’s gonna fuck you up.

AND BONUS:  When you are wearing a party dress in the 7-11 at almost 3 in the morning… Neighborhood Watch will think you’re a hooker.

So, it turns out for once, Dear Sweet Mama was wrong — Hanging out in bars all night IS very educational!  : )

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11 Comments

Filed under He's the DJ I'm the Rapper, La Vida Loca, SCIENCE!

11 responses to “Step Right Up…

  1. Dear Sweet Mama

    In reference to #5 ,maybe I breastfed you a little too long. Or, not long enough. Anywho, being a good mother, I assume that somewhere in this list is something that is my fault.

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  2. WHICH carnival ride? The fun house? With those weird mirrors? The tilt-a-whirl? The house of horror!?!

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  3. Dear Sweet Mama

    angiharper – exactly what I was thinking!

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    • I DON’T KNOW! the drunk didn’t say, but he did seem to be fascinated by the flashing lights from the disco ball (he went over and kinda chased them like a cat with a laser pointer) — so that may have something to do with it… are there flashing lights in there? I need a hand mirror…

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  4. Oh lawd o’ mercy, you should have taken some video!
    Ever notice too that the more white people drink the more they think they’re Janet or Michael Jackson on the dance floor? I used to dance like a motherfucker in the clubs. I WAS Janet from her Rhythm Nation tour! Now I mostly just dance at home with my pets like the sad crazy cat lady that I’m quickly becoming.

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    • it was great — Chuckweasel and I also entertained ourselves by betting who was getting some that night, from whom, and in some cases, whether it was occuring right then in front of us!

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  5. I once asked a very attractive girl (we were both in the ladies room and both kinda drunkified) why the bloody HELL she was with that “old guy, he’s not nearly cute enough for you!”
    She said, quite unoffended, that it was her father. I said oh.
    Then we left the bathroom at the same time and she stuck her tongue down his throat.
    I like to think she was pranking me and not that it was just because we live here in Deepest South. I have to. I gag a lot otherwise.

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    • a similar thing once happened to me and my dad — these people kept saying snarky shit to him about how his “girlfriend” (me) was way too young for him… trouble is, this was at my grandma’s funeral and the snarky bitches were my RELATIVES. Way to keep in touch, dicks!

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