Bitch, I WILL hit you, if you don't shut the fuck up

Now that's a title that I'll probably use a lot. But here's the deal. This group sits down at a table and this one chick asks for a "Grape Nehi" now I'm thinking "lady look around you, this is no carnival, this isn't White Castle, there's no grape Nehi in the house." I tell her we don't have Grape Nehi and then the bitch says "you make cocktails, right?" I said yes but I don't know what a Grape Nehi drink is. "Uh, it's got like vodka and cognac, and some other stuff. Do you at least know what a lemondrop is?" she said this snidely, as if I'm some asshole. So I decided to shit on her parade. Her little "Grape Nehi" drink does exist but most bartenders don't know it by name, the concoction goes by many names but I guess that in her white trash trailer town it's called a "Grape Nehi". In my vocabulary, it means "you're trash that likes a drink that you're asshole bartender made up while taking a shit in a martini shaker...and you love it."
Anyway, I told the cunt that yeah, I know what a lemondrop is and that there are thousands of drinks and more drink names so I'm sorry if I don't know what a Grape Nehi is but what you want sounds disgusting, stupid and for a college child." And honestly when she said that is has both vodka and cognac in it I figured that the bitch just wants to get hammered. Seriously, you don't mix vodka and cognac. What an amateur slut this bitch was. Anyway, I make her a Lemondrop and it was the best damn martini she ever had. I could see her creaming her jeans from ten feet away.
Later, a friend joins her, a tranny. Clearly a dude with the biggest set of tits I have seen in a long time. As I stood behind the bar I noticed about 14 people walk into the bar and their eyes went right for those tits.
One guy orders a beer and begins "did you..." I cut him off, "yeah, I saw the tits".
Then the boyfriend of the tranny shows up. A big buffoon that probably doesn't care about fucking a dude in the ass as long as he's got tits to grab.
And quite frankly, I don't care about the tranny and the dude that fucks that ass, good for you people. I love it. Fuck, fuck and fuck some more. But that bitch, that aging sick slut that wanted the "Grape Nehi" that's who I want to watch cry after she has a few drinks and goes crazy in an alley in a city and can't figure out how to get home.
Fuck everyone. I just work here. Unfortunately.

Ball Washing

Forget the title. I have been dancing around posting something today. I ask myself "do I feel about writing about another fuck knob that I served drinks to" or should I write about a bad high school memory or a dumb fight or politics or a movie I saw. Fuck it. I'm writing about nothing. I'm going to drink myself in to a coma and fall asleep. Although, here's one little pointless leftover shit crumb left to be wiped: I was listening to that Guns N' Roses song "Rocket Queen" and I remember loving that song in high school because to me it was about dating older chicks and all my girlfriends were older. But today we would recognize that those "older chicks" are called "Cougars" or as popularized by American Pie, M.I.L.F.S. So the song was really about chicks I guess like 10 years older. I don't know, fuck, I'm drunk. Why am I even bothering?

Some late night shit

Violence-
Champagne
News-
Tequila
Commentary-
Vodka
Gunshots-
Whiskey
Statistics-
Scotch
Bus ride home-
Flask, emptying
Refill
Your problems-
Gin
Horoscopes-
Rum
Car crash-
Martini
Riot-
Margarita
Shelter-
Bourbon
Cold-
Red wine
Hot-
White wine
Everyday-
Beer
Sex-
Manhattan
Love-
All of the above
With olives
And a twist
And a gun
Add kerosene

Light a match

Survivors-
Meet me
In the
Fire

Hearts-
Meet me
In the
Toilet

Ka-boom

Pierced
Love
By bathroom
Stall
Doors
Imploding

Re-load the cannon
The man is stuck
With an asshole
Full
Of ammunition

And they pull out
A fresh case
Of wicks

The creation

Alright. I've resisted for a long time for doing one of these things but now I say fuck it. I'm going to punch boxes of girl scout cookies and throw pens for no reason. I'll stamp my foot and yell "why?!?!?" all the time. I'll write and write about every fucking nutsack that walks into my bar. Jesus, no one cares. Do I? I have no idea anymore. Every fucking day I stand behind a bar and listen to another asshole's story or answer questions about Chicago. The worst is when people ask me about myself. I have no interest in talking about myself. Oh Jesus goddamnit, I don't even feel like writing now, to hell with it.