My dog licking his chops makes my eyeballs want to explode.
Windsurfing fin orders that come through in metric sizes so I have to consult my conversion chart, which takes me at least three seconds, causes me to throw my head back in angst.
The guy last night who asked, SERIOUSLY, if I had any Fergie, or Avril Lavigne, and then asked me if I knew who they were when I was playing Babyshambles' new album, I mean, it would have been fucking hilarious if he hadn't genuinely been putting in a music request--dude, you ruined my night, and this on an evening when I was accused of being a racist.
Anybody who puts in a song request, or album request, or questions my personal musical choices in general when I am bartending, especially when I am busy, because, guys, I know I've gained some weight, but do I really look like a juke box?
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I don't remember when or why or how, but Jason and I had this thing going where he was going to wake me up way too early on one random Saturday and if I yelled at him, I owed him breakfast, and if I didn't, he owed me breakfast. Saturday mornings are rough, because I always intend to get up early to get shit done but, having been up til 3 or 5 in the morning the prior three nights working 12-15 hour days, I'm usually dead exhausted. So this morning, having not gotten home from the bar until 4:45am and not gone to sleep until 6am, somebody was poking me with something at 10am. "DUDE!" I shouted and turned over to see Jason, who I thought was Diego, poking me with a samurai sword, which I thought was a pool stick. I burst out laughing, being a good sport in general, and actually, he picked the best day ever because I have to go get my tires changed at Costco and if I wait any longer, it's going to take four hours instead of two.