Posts Tagged ‘hell’

Josh M., Las Vegas, NV. GULPU

July 28, 2012

For starters, as CEO of GuerillaDeSwine Productions I would like to personally thank you, the general drunken public, for an amazing turnout this past Sunday for the LOVE LIFE book release/signing party. We broke the record for most books sold at a pub in San Marcos, CA. ever. Special thanks are in order to Ivan Derezin for letting us host this tribute to local literature at the best craft beer pub in the world, Churchill’s Pub and Grille. Another special thanks are in order to the best band in all of San Diego, the Paragraphs for blessing us with one hell of an acoustic set. Big ups to Jesse Hofbauer, the head of the GuerillaDeSwine Productions music department for making such a special performance, happen.

The best part of the festivities was that it was all in the name of supporting local literature and celebrating National Buy A Book Day. Congratulations to Americans everywhere for returning their eyes to the written page. GuerillaDeSwine Productions has long been a proponent of people buying the wonderful books we sell and we encourage the country to continue to do so at a rapid pace.

The next GuerillaDeSwine Project on the horizon is the release of GULPU.com which we are proud to say is very close to being finished. Despite various attempts at government-sponsored sabotage GULPU.com is very real. So real in fact, I am pleased to publicly announce that it will be released Sunday, August 12th. Ever since we have introduced GULPU.com to you, the general drunken public, the offices at GuerillaDeSwine Productions have been overrun with letters and emails of various people’s reviews of customers or clients who have gone above and beyond to be flaming douchebags. Here is one of my favorites.

Josh M., Las Vegas, NV. GULPU

We originally started doing Tuesday wing night as an attempt to bring people into the restaurant mid week. Sure the wings were a wash at forty-nine cents a piece, but if every person who eats eight wings drinks one to two beers then the profits eventually add up. Most people do, which is why we still offer our mouth watering buffalo wings for so cheap. Unfortunately, our discounted delicious wings also attract people who should be 86ed from every restaurant they’ve ever step foot in.

They come dressed in tank tops, board shorts and flat brimmed baseball caps of teams they have never heard of. As they park mommy and daddy’s SUV in the handicap spot 10 little fucktards who have never bussed a table in their life slither out of the vehicle.

The hostess shudders when she sees them stumble through the door putting each other in headlocks as they do. They demand a table for ten and grow impatient when that’s not something we can accommodate due to the fact that every table in the restaurant is full.

Once their table is finally ready four to six more of them show up and just assume that they can add on extra chairs and tables as they see fit. When reminded that a restaurant isn’t their fucking  house they respond with an irrational succession of bro bombs best left to be ignored by an intelligent human being.

Instead of ordering a two dollar soda or a four dollar frosty beer of the week these kids sporting iced out watches, texting on their five hundred dollar phones and wearing designer sunglasses can’t seem to afford anything other than ice water. Not only that but each one of these ten people will require their waters to be refilled every five minutes.

It takes three of us to run their food. When we arrive at the table no one there seems to remember what it is they ordered leaving us standing around holding hot plates while these idiots discuss who got nine buffalo wings and who got eight barbecue wings.

After several minutes of playing wing sauce detective everyone has the food that they claimed they ordered. We ask if they are good and they respond with nods as they’ve already shoved their mouths full with wings as if it were their first meal since mommy and daddy dropped them off at college.

Midway through their meal and two of them claim we gave them the wrong wings. Of course this is after they have eaten half of them already. Inevitably they blame the server for messing up their order. I point out that five minutes ago not only did they not know what they ordered when they were asked if the plate in front of them was right they said yes.

We replace the wings, but honestly caving in to make these little shits happy makes me feel like keying “Hail To The Redskins” into the side of mommy and daddy’s SUV while they are busy rubbing their face in the giant stack of twenty wings which will only cost them ten dollars. Instead we nod and smile and check on them frequently throughout their meal as we do with every table.

Other then needing a refill on water and ranch they always say they are okay. We go through four to five gallons of ranch every Tuesday wing night and a large percentage of this ranch is going to this one table. They use so much ranch that you can no longer see the wing drowned in all that dressing. It’s to the point where we could charge people like this discounted ranch with a side of wings.

When the check comes they scoff at the amount and immediately demand that it be split. Splitting a check for ten people who can barely remember what the fuck they ate just five minutes before can be difficult and is always time consuming.

After finally figuring out who gets charged what there is always one or two of them who claim they are being charged for something they were never served. Again they blame the server even though when asked five to seven times if they were okay they never seemed to mention this mistake they were now so sure we had made.

Then these cheap little bastards have the nerve to leave my servers a penny because they were upset we wouldn’t let them order two hundred wings to go. The ones who can’t spare a penny leave nothing but a stack of gnawed wing bones and a pool of ranch dripping off the edge of their table. When these little schmucks die they will be waiting tables in hell and mommy and daddy won’t be there to ensure their hands steer clear of real work.

JOSH M., LAS VEGAS, NV. GULPU

If you like what you read above then we here at GuerillaDeSwine Productions suggest you sign up with your email here http://www.gulpu.com/

Our day is coming. August 12th experience review evolution, at GULPU.com.

P.S. BUY MY BOOK LOVE LIFE BY CLICKING THE LOVE LIFE LINK UP AND TO THE RIGHT

The Whistle Won’t Work

April 14, 2012

There is a special place in hell for anyone disrespectful enough to whistle at a bartender in an attempt to get their attention. In fact I believe that in this unique corner of hell those culprits who have been caught whistling rudely in their past are forced to watch repeat episodes of American Idol on full blast with hourly intervals of random Stained songs that get pumped through a musical catheter of sorts injecting depressing, repetitive, shitty music into their bodies via their private parts.

When I walk my dog I usually let him off the leash so that he may shit and piss freely. If he runs off or is hidden behind a bush I will on occasion whistle in an attempt to get him to come back to me. It works great on a dog because they are simple creatures who can’t necessarily comprehend words, so loud noises are one of the few ways to communicate with them.

Bartenders are not dogs. Therefore just because your Bud Light bottle is empty doesn’t give you the right to treat them like one. Believe me “bro” you waiting an extra twenty seconds to get a fresh bottle of domestic piss won’t kill you but whistling at a bartender might. We are a prideful bunch who put up with a lot of shit on a nightly basis and if you whistle at the wrong grumpy English bartender on a day that his favorite football team has lost to a girl’s high school soccer team it may prove to be the last thing you do on this earth.

The sound of a whistling drunk can make your skin crawl and when it is directed at you the urge to kill can be overwhelming. You must fight this urge with every bone in your body. Murder is the easy way out for both of you. Anyone ignorant enough to whistle at a bartender must be scolded and punished in a loud enough manner to embarrass them in front of everyone else sitting at the bar. It is important to let them know that you are not a dog. You then must explain to them that if they ever whistle at a bartender again they will be 86ed from drinking alcohol anywhere including in their own basement. Then, based on their response you decide whether or not you have the large man standing on the door break both their legs.

At the very least, whistling at the bartender is a great way to go thirsty for the rest of the evening. Not only will you be skipped, but you will be ignored in such a blatant manner that no matter how dumb you are you will get the fact that you fucked up. If you whistle at me I will help everyone else in the entire bar even if I have to start offering table service before I will even consider serving you again. I will tell my barback to go on break so I can run glassware in lieu of pouring you anything. I will enter every credit card slip into my computer as slowly as possible so that you may crave your drink for just a little longer. And then once I have no viable way to possibly ignore you anymore I will smoke a cigarette.

I bet you are wondering if you can’t call a bartender bro or sugar nipples or big dog or baby or snap your fingers or scream or whistle, how are you ever going to get a drink around here? The answer to that is only found when one truly understands that using these words or whistling is actually not going to get you served faster. It will give you just the opposite. Bartenders have a great memory and hold a grudge all the way to their grave. Once you are labeled a whistler you are a whistler for life. In fact other bartenders who you haven’t ever whistled at will be able to recognize you for what you are and the drinks will continually be coming out slower and slower until one day when they finally stop.

You the general drunken public should be offended as well. The last thing you want as you’re peacefully sipping a frosty pint is for some bag of dick to stroll up to the bar and whistle as loud as he can. I recommend the next time this happens you stop what you are doing and stare at the culprit in disgust. Feel free to point and I highly encourage you alert others that there has been a serious bar infraction. Let’s make it clear to this disrespectful douchebag and those like him that we as a people will not stand for that sort of behavior any longer .


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