Posts Tagged ‘makeup’

National Buy A Book Day

July 21, 2012

The recent release of LOVE LIFE, my second novel, was a stunning failure. The sales of this tale about main character Hunter Jack and his struggle to find love in his life were more than half what we were expecting. With the timing so close to National Buy A Book day this coming Sunday, the 22nd of July and the fevered anticipation for my next book after my award winning first novel, FIRST LIGHT, we thought for sure that copies of LOVE LIFE would fly off the shelves of Amazon.com faster than a pair of Hyena’s panties at a high school keg party.

As the author of this book I am personally disappointed by the lack of support for local literature. Depression struck me like a fist and sent me down a dark path that nearly led me to dangerous decisions. I stayed glued to my computer closely tracking the sales of my book. After hour three when we had still only sold two books I couldn’t take anymore.

I left GuerillaDeSwine Headquarters and found a dark pub to drown my sorrows with some Buffalo Trace and frosty pints. By my third round my spirits had worsened. What had triggered this is that the twenty-two year old smoking hot bartender was late in refilling my glasses because she was caught up reading some book called Twilight. I wondered what that was. It wasn’t long before I became enraged with jealousy. I left the pub abruptly on a mission to find out what this book that so engaged the kind of people I would want to read my book and stalk me was all about.

Back at GuerillaDeSwine Productions I used our state of the art computer full with internet and Microsoft Word 98 and was able to figure out that this book wasn’t just popular amongst hot female bartenders, but with women of all ages. Apparently it is the story of a transvestite teenage vampire who likes to wear makeup and glitter that has sex with his neighbor’s dog and turns the poor puppy into a werewolf who also likes to wear glitter and makeup. The whole time the transvestite seduces whatever hot teenager, boy or girl that it comes in contact with.

At first I was outraged that such a stupid and superficial concept would be so popular while my well-crafted story rich with drama, comedy and plot twists toiled in anonymity. I was faced with only two options. Quit writing and return to my old job as a ditch digger, or I could become a successful writer the only way that seemed possible, by totally selling out. Just as I finished my letter of resignation to my bosses at GuerillaDeSwine Productions I sobered up from my earlier binge at the bar and it dawned on me that giving up wasn’t going to solve anything. It had been my lifelong dream to be a successful writer who rocked jewelry and smacked strippers in the face with dollar bills. If I had to sell out in order to achieve a lifestyle the likes of such literary lore then so be it.

From this revelation my next writing project was born. It was going to be called The White Knuckle of Justice. It was the story (spoiler alert) of a teenage George Washington, who long before having presidential aspirations was called upon for a much more important job as a licensed zombie hunter. While other kids his age slept with their cousins and wasted their time with arithmetic, teenage George Washington was out slaying the undead with a wooden stake he personally carved out of an apple tree. Before long Mallory, the head of the high school cheerleading squad, falls for the studly future president and their love for each other forms a bond not even a zombie can break. That is, until a zombie breaks this bond by killing Mallory and turning her into the undead. In a tear jerking conclusion George is forced to decide what is more important, killing zombies, or trying to save his undead ex.

When I submitted this manuscript idea to the powers that be at GuerillaDeSwine Productions they locked me in a dungeon where they fed me nothing but Bud Light and peanut shells while forcing me to watch Howard Stern on his new television show so I could truly understand the meaning of selling out. I emerged from this darkness a re-born author: one not concerned with monetary rewards but with the commitment to returning our nation’s eyes to literature.

This Sunday, July 22nd will be the first step towards doing that. National Buy A Book Day is a chance for Americans everywhere to put down their remotes or computer mice and go to their local book store or pub and support the written word. Anyone in the Southern California area is encouraged to celebrate at the LOVE LIFE book signing/release party at Churchill’s Pub and Grille in San Marcos, CA. at 4pm this Sunday. There will be food for you, the general drunken public to consume, and if it all gets eaten never fear for it is happy hour all day which means there are food and drink specials.

If this book signing doesn’t go well I may try my hand at writing screenplays for reality television. It seems to me like as long as your show is about backwood rednecks or snaggle toothed gypsies you have a recipe for success. Unfortunately in order to be able to write reality television shows you need surgery to remove the creative part of your brain, so once you cross that line there is no coming back. That is not the desired outcome, but without the support of you, the general drunken public this Sunday, it could turn out to be my unfortunate reality. Save me from selling out my literary soul by drinking and eating with me at the LOVE LIFE book signing/release party. Bring books, breasts and babies for me to sign and I will gladly oblige.

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

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Jason C., Chicago, IL. GULPU

May 26, 2012

I don’t like to toss the words frosty and bitch around lightly, but sometimes there is no other way to describe certain females. There are just some women who make it a point to be a royal pain in the ass. There are men like that too except we call them a douche bag or asshole or dickbag. The term frosty bitch, however, is one I like to reserve for the fairer sex.

It was college night and we were slammed. I was by myself behind the bar and maintaining pretty well despite the constant stream of server tickets spewing out of my ticket printer. I pulled three tickets and on my way to making those drinks took an order from a couple at the right end of the bar. After placing six drinks in the server window I proceeded to mix the couples drinks. I served them with a smile and moved onto a group of three guys to the left of them.

They all ordered beers and on my way to the draft tower I snagged two more server tickets from the printer. As I was pouring the beers I scanned the bar. Three more server tickets had just printed out. The couple I had just served was good, the guys next to them were the ones I was serving, there was another couple to the left of them who were good and to the left of them was one guy who had just walked up and was patiently waiting with his money in hand.

I put the server’s drinks in the window and then served the three guys their beers. I gave the solo guy the head nod and then proceeded to cash out my current order. As I did that up walks a girl who I could tell from the slam of the front door had literally just walked in. She stood next to the guy I was going to help next and tried to catch my attention by bending over the bar showing her cleavage. I avoided nipple and eye contact and kept moving.

I dropped off the three guys change. Four more server tickets printed out. I approached the guy who had been patiently waiting. Before he could even begin to order this frosty bitch started waving her hand in the air.

“Excuse me I was here first.”

I ignored her and maintained eye contact with the guy. He began to order when again she waved a hand in the air.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I was like here way before him. “

I looked at her. She was in her early thirties but based on her makeup and skankified outfit it was clear she was hoping to pass for twenty-two. Her blatant attempt of looking younger was failing miserably.

“Excuse me Mam, but no you weren’t here first. I will be with you as soon as I help the customers who have been waiting longer.”

“Whatever. A gentleman would help the woman first.”

She then glanced at the guy I was originally trying to help with a crooked smile that smacked of a sickly attempt at seducing him. Instead of being interested in this forward flirt on her part he looked scared and confused. He motioned for me to help her first.

She ordered a lemon drop martini. I chilled her glass and then went about pouring the four server tickets. I placed the drinks in the server window and then began to mix her drink. The guy I had tried to help had walked away.

I put her drink in front of her and told her it would be eight dollars. She gasped in disgust.

“Really? It took long enough. I feel like that’s way too much money.”

She begrudgingly pulled her wallet out of her purse and slid a ten dollar bill across the bar. I gave her the change which she quickly snatched and put away. I saw that the guy I had tried to help before hadn’t left but had simply moved to the other side of the bar.

I went to go help him again when out of the corner of my eye I saw her reach for my fruit caddy. I was able to intervene before she stuck her grubby little hands all over my freshly cut fruit. I politely informed her that her touching my fruit was against health code and made it clear that if she wanted more fruit all she had to do was ask.

“Wow, rude. All I wanted was another lemon,” she said.

I handed her another lemon. The guy ordered a beer. The ticket printer pumped out two more server tickets. They were both beers. I poured them and then as I went to put them in the window I saw this frosty bitch with half her hand buried in the server’s fruit caddy.

I watched as she grabbed a couple of cherries and dropped them in her drink. She then stuck her dirty skank hand back in the caddy. I put the drinks down and slammed the lid of the caddy down on her. She screamed at such a high pitch it sounded like a cat was being tortured. She pulled her hand back and it was full of cherries and lemons.

“I told you not to do that once already. If you do it again I will have to ask you to leave,” I said.

She let out a defiant cackle and then threw the fruit in her hand at me. Before the fruit hit the floor I snatched her drink and threw it away. I then came around the bar and escorted her out. She kicked and screamed and cursed and skanked but her words fell upon deaf ears.

When I returned I was finally able to help the guy who had been waiting so patiently. Once he got his drink he and everyone else that had come in contact with that frosty bitch breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her leaving.

The Bad Bartender Chronicles II

March 24, 2012

A major problem with the bar industry today is that a lot of male bar owners/managers make hiring decisions based off approval by their dick instead of their brain. As a result, instead of ending up with a quality bartender they hire some super hot bimbo with boobs bigger than their heads who can barely pour an ice water. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of really good female bartenders, some of which are really hot. That’s not the point. This isn’t a beauty contest and the bottom line is if I wanted to stare at a hot chick who can’t keep my drink filled with booze because she is too busy flirting with her nineteen year old barback I would go to a strip club. When I am out drinking, I want my drinks strong and fast and it doesn’t matter if a gremlin is serving me as long as my glass stays full.

Usually, the idea behind hiring a hot female bartender who cares more about her makeup than the customers is based on the fact that most of the people frequenting a bar on a regular basis are men. It is then assumed that when drinking men must have a half dressed hottie serving them alcohol. In that sense men are seen as animals who constantly crave the sight of the opposite sex and when this craving is mixed with booze it gets worse. If that is the case then we as men are very simple creatures and are at best one step above a coyote with our snarling teeth and saliva covered chins.

There is some truth to the idea that all most men need to be satisfied with a bar is to have a glorified stripper with pouring privileges serving drinks slowly. I would estimate that seventy percent of men really are that simple. I know a lot of guys who frequent bars based strictly on what the bar staff looks like. What’s funny is that what all of these guys have in common is their belief that one day they will take that sexy bartender home with them.

That notion is foolish and quite frankly laughable. Hot female bartenders make a living off saps who swear they are one step away from getting laid. News flash jack ass all that flirting you and her just shared was monetarily motivated on her part and ten seconds after you walked away she started flirting with someone else.

This false confidence grows when men are fed booze and by the end of the night a good female bartender will have a bar full of men truly believing that they have a shot. Even after the door guy has cleared these drunken lechers out from the bar as they head home they do so with the confidence that next time they truly will get lucky with their favorite bartender. Although this sounds pretty pathetic it happens at bars all over the world and evidently as much as we as a species adapt and improve ourselves, drunken men believing hot girls half their age are down to bone is a mentality even evolution can’t overcome.

In our modern world which favors gender equality there are few jobs females are at a disadvantage of obtaining other than being president. Men on the other hand find hardships when trying to enter many a job field, especially so in the bar business. Despite the fact that this double standard has been set due in large to ogling men who care more about their spank bank than good service it is still unfair.

It is a fact that finding a job as a male bartender is exponentially more difficult than it is for a woman. I am the proof. When I moved out to California I had four years of bar tending experience along with a year of bar management experience and I couldn’t even get a job at Chili’s. One bar manager looked me dead in the eye and said that he didn’t think he’d ever seen a male apply for a position. I felt the urge to smack him across the face for even sliding me an application and then watching me fill it out before sharing this information with me. Luckily after some lean times a wise man took a chance on my overqualified ass as a busboy and the rest is bar history.

Once men get a leg in behind the bar they have to work twice as hard as a woman to earn a decent wage. I have seen a good looking girl get a hundred dollar tip from a creepy and greasy looking businessman even though it took her ten minutes to acknowledge him and another twenty to figure out how to open his Bud Light. Trust me; no one is ever going to tip me a hundred bucks just to stand there with a confused look on my face no matter how pretty my beard is that day.

I urge you the drunken masses to demand competence over big tits. Don’t stand for shitty service just because some bar owner thinks his office is the casting couch of a cheap porn website. Let’s take our bars back and move forward into a world where bartenders aren’t judged on their jugs but their ability. Let’s forgo fantasies of nymphomaniac female bartenders who will fuck you just for tipping well and move into a reality where every bartender around knows that there is no cranberry juice in a vodka tonic.


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