Starvation

I cannot be on a diet.  I mean that word is crippling to me.  Something clicks in my head and the diet is over before it begins.  Some say that I need to get my head in a “change of lifestyle” place.  Yeah, that’s probably not going to work either so today I ventured to thesaurus.com to see what I could come up with.  First I tried another word for journey, nothing jumped out at me, then I tried another word for hunt, as in I’m hunting for a body that doesn’t billow over the top of my pants, the only one funny there is “frisking” which I would adopt but my body is in no current shaped to be frisked either.  I finally typed in the word diet and low and behold I found it.  Starvation.  I find that hilarious.   If I call it starvation I will be thankful for everything I get to eat, no matter how small or simple.

Day 4:  My head is in a better place today, I’ve done my exercises and I’ve only eaten breakfast and lunch, nothing massive in between.  I’m going to fix a shake for dinner before I leave for a 10 hour bartending shift.  It will take me 2 days to recover from that shift but at this time it’s my only job so I don’t have a choice.

Yesterday my friend who complains about weight with me was put in a hospital for some heart issues, which are ongoing with her.  She’s been sending me texts that’s she’s starving and no one cares.  This is a bit of our conversation:

Her:  I AM STARVING!!  Does no one care!?

Me: We committed you secretly and this is your weight loss program.

Her: I just peed my inderweR.  Can’t text laughing too hard.

It’s important to be supportive to our friends.  I do what I can.

I also lied, I did not have a shake for dinner, I skipped dinner and went to work and had leftover hotdish when I got home at 2:00 AM.  This is not on the starvation plan.

Day 5: The 13 year old is here for the weekend and she eats like a small village.  It’s hard for me not to want to eat like her.  I hate her because she doesn’t gain an ounce.  It’s fine though, she’s 13, I won’t hold it against her, yet.

Day 6:  I hate life, this starvation thing is going but not going.  Pounds are not melting off…at least it doesn’t seem like it.  I have developed an allergy to the scale. There’s a force field around it that zaps me every time I get close.

Day 7: I realized today that I will have no idea if I’m losing weight.  I was hoping my clothes would start fitting me better….they haven’t…and they won’t.  Why won’t they, you ask?  Because our washer is on the fritz and it only works on “hot”.  This is a chubby girl’s worst nightmare!  The only good thing is that the clothes will continue to shrink so perhaps I won’t have to buy a new wardrobe for a long time.  The bad thing is that everything of mine is like putting Barbie clothes on a Cabbage Patch Doll.  It’s a delicate situation and I do a lot of praying that the seams will hold up.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Week 2: The start of the second week hasn’t been too bad, I’ve been preoccupied with some personal things so haven’t been thinking about my starvation.  Now that I’m writing about it though I’m thinking about it and I’m hungry.

I have eaten us out of house and home at this point.  I don’t trust myself to go to the grocery store alone so I haven’t picked up anything.  In the process it seems I’m also starving the skinny guy that lives with me.  I best go shopping tomorrow.  I’m so desperate for food I’m living off of freeze pops at the moment.

Another night bartending tonight….hopefully I don’t faint from the lack of nutrition and if I do that someone kicks me out of the way of the patrons.

I’ll see you next week with either less pounds or perhaps a washing machine that actually works on cold water wash.

 

The Journey Begins

Ok kids, I need to do something about my weight.  I mean, I NEED to do something.  We are at Defcon 1 here.  My ankles are bad, my knees are bad, I have a bad hip and a bad back.  My waddle has a waddle people.  I’ve been talking about this for way too long.  Last month a girlfriend and I decided that we would start with 5 pounds, lose 5 pounds before the end of February and we would go from there.  Well, I have 8 pounds to go to reach that goal and it’s the middle of March.

I’ve been heavy since I was done with college.  Although the weight doesn’t come on overnight, it seems as though it does.  Maybe that’s the thing about finally deciding to lose weight, you look in the mirror one day and think “when in the hell did this happen”.  If I was still in good health I probably wouldn’t care much about losing weight.  I mean, I have to have something to make fun of myself about.  But I am currently truly miserable, I have such a bad hip that I cannot function in a normal capacity, the pain is unbearable sometimes.

I’ve been saying for a year that I need to get back to writing because it’s therapeutic for me.  Perhaps this will get me back into writing and keep me accountable.  Hopefully.  I think at this point I’m willing to do just about anything.

The starting is the hard part so here’s to starting.  My plan is to cut down on my portions, do hip exercises at least twice a day and cut down on carbs.  In general, eat better, swap a shake for meal/snack, stop eating Top the Tator (ok, I can’t quit TTT cold turkey but I will try) and get my hip feeling better.  I would love to walk or exercise in some other way but at this point I just can’t, I can’t even walk to the mailbox without being in tears.

Day 1:  I’m starving.  It’s day one and I’m going to starve to death!  I just ate a bowl of Mini Wheats and I would like to raid the fridge and freezer.  The second I think I’m on a diet I’m doomed.  I need to get my head in a different place.  I need to focus on how bad my  hip hurts and use it to my advantage.  I’ve also got to focus on the dent my pants leave on my stomach because they’re getting awfully tight.  My muffin top is more like a mountain top and it’s really starting to irritate me.

Hip exercise are going well, I lay on the floor with my knees bent and squeeze my butt cheeks together.  I do this for 5 seconds 30 times.  It’s harder than you think when you’re as big around as you are tall.  They tell you to use your core, hahahaha, my core ran for the hills years ago and hasn’t been seen since.  When I get better I can start lifting my butt off the floor, that will probably happen around January of 2020 but I will be patient.  That should be the year I’m ready for swimsuit season.

Day 2: Once again had a bowl of cereal, then went to town to run some errands.  Stopped at the bar I work at with free drink tickets.  I don’t think I have to be specific about what happened next.  The day went to hell in a handbasket and I was behind the wheel. The only good thing diet-wise was I didn’t eat the rest of the day.  The bad thing is I now have to work on my drinking apparently and I didn’t do my hip exercises.  Let’s add that to my pile of vices.  That doesn’t happen often so it shouldn’t be hard for me to give up.

Day 3: Hotdish leftovers for breakfast!!  Really?  I’ve also realized I’m very much a bored eater.  Being at home right now has proven that ten times over.  I’m on a Criminal Minds watching binge and it would be very easy for me to binge on food as well, that’s very difficult to control.  I need to get to a point where I’m project oriented so I can get some things accomplished here before I go back to work. I think I could also kill someone and get away with it, I need to stop watching this stuff….well, after 4 more seasons anyway.

Hip exercises are going okay but they hurt like the dickens.  I feel like a jackpot doing them but it’s just me and the dogs so no need for me to be embarrassed.  They come and snuggle with me while I’m laying on the floor.

Until next time.  Let’s hope I don’t starve to death or go on an eating rampage and wake up in a pile of ice cream, pizza and Top the Tator.

It’s a Doc’s Life – The Second and Last Time

I’ve really been trying to be a good boy since my great escape but there’s so much I want to learn about and it seems to get me in trouble.  This house of mine is so full of smells, small objects, corners, windows and gadgets I just can’t seem to stop myself from getting into “mischief” as Mom and Dad call it.

I have some new nicknames, Mom calls me Menace, Dad calls me Shithead, Mom and Dad both call me Naughtyboy a lot.  I know Naughtyboy isn’t good because Mom is usually shaking her finger at me or it’s followed by a swat on the butt.  Not a fun swat either, sometimes it stings a little so I know I’ve done something bad.  It seems it happens when I’m in the middle of chewing on something, apparently something I shouldn’t be chewing on.

We’ve been doing lots of fun things too.  Sundays we go to the bar where I get to see lots of people!  I have a few girlfriends at the bars that we visit.  They kiss me a lot and rub my belly.  If I shiver they hug me super tight and whisper what a good boy I am in my ear.  Most of the time I shiver when I’m not even cold, I like to be snuggled tight.  Don’t tell them that though.  I also like the car rides, Mom says I’m just like her and sleep in the car, her and I have lots of naps while Dad drives.  He says he doesn’t trust Mom’s driving so he’s losing out on nap time.

I try to help around the house.  I supervise when Dad loads the dishwasher and I ride the mop when they’re scrubbing floors.  I also take laundry out of the basket for them.  Dad and I work in the garage a lot so I need to supervise out there too.  Most of the time they yell “you’re not helping” but that doesn’t make any sense to me, of course I’m helping.

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Dad also has been introducing me to new things.  One of those being a ride on a 4 wheeler and a lawn mower.  I don’t mind it but I would rather be running around the yard exploring on my own.

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We also visited Mom’s family far away a couple of times.  Once when I was really little and I met a baby, he smelled good and was just my size so we snuggled.  He kicked a lot though so I eventually had to move away from him, he wasn’t a good napper.  They have a big dog that I like to play with but he doesn’t want to play and sometimes growls at me. His name is Rugby and he’s kind of a grumpy old man but I like him anyway.  I think he secretly likes me but just likes to be grumpy because it’s his house, plus, I peed on the couch once.

Let’s get back to the real reason for my story.  I got out of the kennel again.  This time it wasn’t latched all the way after I was let out when Mom and Dad were at work.  I was in the bedroom and I really really tried to just lay there and not explore.  Needless to say, that didn’t work.

At first I was just looking around, you know, seeing what was under the bed, in the closet and in the bathroom.  Then I smelled the garbage in the bathroom and I just needed to dig.  Well, I found lots of stuff in there, Dad’s snuff pouches, Q-tips, an empty box with plastic on it and a bunch of Mom’s hair.  I emptied the whole thing on the floor and ate a majority of it until I felt a little sick.  I laid down for a while wondering if it would go away and of course it didn’t, it got worse.

My tummy was hurting pretty bad and I started to panic, and I mean really panic.  I didn’t want to poop on the floor but I had no choice.  I think it was those snuff pouches of Dad’s, I’m not sure how he puts those things in his mouth.  I started scratching at the door hoping that Mom and Dad were really home and would hear me.  I gave up after I had scratched the carpet down to the wood floor and finally pooped on the bathroom floor, A LOT.  Boy was I sick.

Once I pooped I felt a little better and laid on the big bed until Mom and Dad got home.  Mom and Dad were not happy when they opened the bedroom door.  Not only was I not in my kennel but the room smelled pretty bad.  And then they saw the carpet….or lack thereof.  Holy mackerel did they say some very bad words, ones I have never even heard before.  Mom was moving pretty fast too, she chased me all the way out the door and was threatening military school, the glue factory and the pound.  I have no idea what those things are but none of them sounded good.

As usual they forgave me.  The next day I was laying on the big bed with Mom and threw up on the blanket.  Apparently the sock I had swallowed the night before didn’t digest.  Mom was mad and then thankful, something about intestines and surgery….sometimes she makes no sense to me but I love her anyway.

I think it’s safe to say I will never ever escape from the kennel again.  Within two days I had a new kennel and I see no way of escaping from that one.  It’s okay though, my new one has a lot of room and I can see everything much better because it’s all open.

It’s a Doc’s Life – The Great Escape

I tell ya, being a dog may be the greatest thing ever.  You humans have no idea, you should all hope to come back as a dog in your next life.

When I first came to live in the big house Dad gave me a stuffed puppy to sleep with in my kennel.  I do like my kennel, it’s safe and quiet and I can stretch out.  I also liked my new stuffed puppy, she was cute and I got to snuggle with her all night.  When Mom said “night night time” I knew it was time to snuggle up with my honey and get a good nights sleep.  When I’m good and get up to go potty when I have to, Mom and Dad let me sleep in the big bed until they get up for the day.  I really like the big bed, it will be mine one day.  I get to sleep between them and I have to touch them both so I know they’re still there.  They complain that I take up too much space but I’m not sure how that can be, I’m just little.

A couple of weeks after I started sleeping with my stuffed dog I really started to take a liking to her, she made me feel things, things down deep in my loins, things I hadn’t felt before.  When these feelings came on I went with them, figured wrestling was a good exercise program.  I started taking her out of the kennel because I was running out of room to wrestle with her inside the kennel.  Mom wasn’t happy and said I was growing up too fast and she would tell me to “stop humping”.  Dad just laughed and said “he’s a boy what do you expect”.  Well our wrestling matches would get pretty intense, I would even let her be on top most of the time, she seemed to like that a lot.  When we would take a break I would snuggle and lick her up and down.  It was awesome, we were in love.

One night when Mom and Dad were at work, my human sister and her boyfriend came and let me out, played with me for a bit and put me back in my kennel.  Well, I was awake and feeling some of those loin feelings I told you about so I decided on a quick wrestling match with my honey.  Things got a little heated and I have to admit I got a bit out of control.  I was backed up against the door for leverage, giving her everything I had when the door to my kennel suddenly popped open.

Sweet mother of all dogs in heaven!  There I was, stunned, staring over my shoulder out the door with my stuffed dog between my legs.  Looking at her, looking back at the door, looking at her.  I had to put a time out on our session to figure out what to do about this glorious situation.  Through the open door there was a light beckoning me to step toward it.  So I did.

Cautiously at first I ventured out of my safe haven to explore the empty house.  First I found food and water, I ate like I hadn’t seen food in weeks.  Then I saw the light that had beckoned me, it was coming from the microwave.  I then wandered and found the bedroom and bathroom doors closed.  So I didn’t have access to the whole house but close enough!

Once I realized there was really no one home and this wasn’t a joke, I went kind of crazy.  Racing around, jumping on furniture and rolling around on every surface possible.  It was like I was experiencing life for the first time.  If I would have had any friends at the time, I would have invited them over, it was awesome.

Then I realized I had eaten a lot and had to go potty.  I couldn’t get outside so I figured I would just have to pick a place.  I picked next to the jukebox, it was far enough away from the kennel that I didn’t have to look at it or smell it.  It was a big pile, I didn’t realize I had to go that bad.  It finally dawned on me I didn’t have to worry about getting spanked for pooping in the house because THERE WAS NO ONE HOME!

I also realized the mudroom was open and there was a room full of my favorite toys….SHOES.  I picked one of Mom’s and one of Dad’s, even though I was having the time of my life, I did miss them terribly and couldn’t wait to tell them about my adventures.  Once I had my fill of shoes I had to go potty again so I picked a different spot.  This time the dining room.

After the second poop I ate and ate and ate.  This is where things get fuzzy.  I must have been on some sort of food high, or perhaps somebody slipped something into my food. Because from what I remember I went crazy.  I chewed what I could off of the remote they use to play Jeopardy (I hate that game), I found some of Mom’s hair ties and ate those (Mom had to tell me this one), I peed a couple times (I don’t even remember where), I was so thirsty and didn’t have any water in my bowl so I found a plastic glass on the end table and licked what little was left in that and then chewed it up, I pooped again in the living room and I attempted to eat another tennis shoe but was just drooling by that time.  There were more things like blankets and such but I honestly was almost in a coma at that point.

After all that partying I WAS NOT feeling well.  I realize now I shouldn’t have eaten all that stuff because my tummy was in a bad spot.  And by bad spot I mean a really bad spot.  I tried my hardest to get out the door to go outside because I knew what was coming was not going to be pretty.  I mean, I had over four hours of hard partying.

While I was clawing at the outside door it happened.  There were sounds coming from my backside I had never heard before and stuff was shooting out of me all over the rug.  I was scared and in pain.  All I could do was hunch over and hope for the best.  There was no best, it was the worst.  I couldn’t even stand it myself.

Once all that was done I was exhausted and hoping Mom and Dad would be home soon, I missed them and I needed my tummy rubbed.  I slept on the carpet outside the mudroom so I could see them right when they walked in and tell them what had happened, I was feeling really bad about the messes I made, plus the house smelled terrible.

I have no idea how long I had been sleeping but I heard them drive in.  I figured out I better sit up and look as cute as possible.  They’re pretty smart because they knew immediately something wasn’t right, probably seeing me out of the kennel was the first clue.  I barked and wagged my tail to greet them but at first it wasn’t enough.

For the first 20 minutes they were home there was a lot of “Oh my gods”, “That smells so bads”, “Are you kidding mes?” and “How on earth could that little thing produce thats”.  I also heard some gagging sounds, some terrible curse words I won’t share with you and a couple of threats that they were going to give me away.  I knew that wasn’t true because this was really my house now and I am way too cute.

After the messes were cleaned up and Mom and Dad had a couple of drinks they sat down and gave me a pretty stern talking to.  I didn’t listen much because it was a lot of don’t do this, don’t do that, blah blah blah.  Like I don’t know not to poop on the carpet, sometimes it has to happen though.   Once the lectures were done I put my head on Mom’s lap, licked Dad’s hand, and gave them the most apologizing eyes I possibly could.

I didn’t get to sleep in the big bed that night but I still got to snuggle with my stuffed girlfriend.  We had a quiet wrestling match to finish out the night, it was glorious.  It was one of our last times together,  not long after that I ate her eyes out and Mom and Dad sent her away.

Until next time.

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It’s a Doc’s Life – My New Home

Whew, it’s about time.  These humans that call themselves “Mom” and “Dad” (even I know they can’t really be my mom and dad, I’m much cuter than they are and they walk silly, they don’t even use their front paws and legs to walk) said when I turned 6 months old I could start writing.  Here I am with my new series It’s a Doc’s Life.

Needless to say my name is Doc, I’m a 6 month old American Staffordshire Terrier.  More commonly known as a pitbull.  And apparently that’s not cool.  Somehow, somewhere, “pitbull” became an awful thing because mean people exist and trained my ancestors to be mean.  I think Chihuahuas are mean, there, I said it, I put that out there.  Mom speaks her mind so I will too.  Don’t blame me for what my ancestors, who I have never met, did.  And please stop shoving your fist in my mouth when you first meet me, yes I will bite you.  I don’t see humans doing that to other humans so don’t do it to me.  I once heard my human mom say she would bite someone if they did that to her.  Please do let me smell your hands though, that’s how I get to know you.

To be sappy for a moment, my life truly began when a couple of humans came to pick me up and brought me to my human mom and dad.  They brought me to a big house, a big yard, a big garage and a big bed.  I didn’t know a dog could have it so good.  My dog mom never told me I was going to have my own place….except I have to let the humans stay with me…something about money and bills.  I decided it was okay to have them around, a dog needs servants and apparently I get two.  Now I know where the term “lucky dog” comes from.

I know the house is mine, I claimed it.  I did it little by little so no one would notice but it only took me a few weeks to pee in every room.  Not sure how I knew to do that but I did.  It is now mine and I didn’t see Mom or Dad peeing on anything to reclaim it so they have resorted to being my servants.The humans got mad but I was on a mission so I had to complete it.  Mom says it was my fault she had to clean the carpets.  That was long overdue if  you ask me.

My humans are strange, in my opinion all humans are strange, but I have some really weird ones.

The short, round, smart assy one (Mom) is mostly called Peg by other humans who come and visit.  She calls me Booger, Boogs, or Doc.  She only calls me Doc when I’m being naughty.  I pretend not to hear her but she knows I do.  That makes her really mad.  I can’t help myself though, I find it terribly funny.  Sometimes I even walk away from her as she calls my name.  Sometimes she spanks me when I’m naughty but I love her anyway, I just can’t help it, I just love to lick those chubby cheeks……I can’t pinch them so I have to lick them.

The tall, skinny, quiet one, well, quiet until he’s mad, (Dad) is mostly called Jim by other humans.  He calls me Doc, Bud and sometimes Booger. I pretend to listen to him more than mom, he pees outside while standing up, I think he has one up on me there.  It’s my house but I let him think it’s his.  He’s coming along nicely in his training program.  I have to tread lightly with him, he’s not as quick as mom to admit that I run this show.  Plus, he’s quicker than mom so I can’t away quite as easy.

Let’s get back to the weird part.  They play video games, just the two of them.  They watch several episodes of the same show in a row….I have to nap, I can’t watch, it’s just too boring.  They play pool and listen to the jukebox, and sometimes even dance, did I mention it’s just the two of them?  It’s like they’re having a party but haven’t invited anyone else.  Oh well, they’re mine I guess, it would be too much work to look for new ones at this point.  Plus, they really do spoil me.

Wow, that’s a lot of writing for a dog like me, I should probably get back to chewing up my rope, most toys don’t last two days around me, this one has been around for two weeks and I haven’t destroyed it yet.  It is my new mission.

Here I am….I don’t like pictures but mom says I have to.  Dad doesn’t get his picture taken so I’m not sure why I have to.  After the Destroy the Rope Mission is over I will go after that thing mom takes my picture with, first I will pee on it to claim it as mine, then I will destroy it.

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Until next time.

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The Dog

I’m 46 years old.  I’m not a mom.  I had outdoor dogs during my childhood but never a puppy or an indoor dog.  So here I am, a new mom of the cutest pitbull puppy you’ve ever seen.

Meet Doc.  He was born mid December 2015 and he looked like this the day we got him.  I fell in love.  I am now that lady.  You know the one.  The lady that  posts pictures of her puppy on Facebook every day.

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Not only did I take the plunge, with assurance from the manfriend that it would be awesome, we added another puppy two and a half months later.  Her name is Kimber.  We wanted to name her Kate (Doc Holliday and Big Nose Kate) but she knew her name so well we just couldn’t change it.  Doc still doesn’t know his name, or at least pretends not to so she’s a step ahead of him there…or behind, depending on how you look at it.

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Prior to Kimber coming to live with us Doc had a few episodes of Mommy wanting to give him away.  One such episode happened one night when we came home from pool league very late.  Here was my Facebook post about it:

In honor of National Puppy Day…..

Well, it was a long night at our house. The menace we call a puppy figured out how to get out of his kennel while we were at pool. You know that feeling when you walk in and something just isn’t right? Oh yeah, immediately. After Grandma let him out he had about 2 1/2 hours to have a party….if I didn’t know better, from the looks of things he invited friends.

4 piles of poop placed strategically….one in each room he had access to
2 pee spots
1 badly damaged PS3 remote – he ate all the rubber pieces off of it and chewed up the ends
1 chewed up water glass
1 completely empty bowl of food
1 ruined Nike flip flop
2 drooled in and slightly chewed up tennis shoes
Several missing hair ties

Needless to say our little party animal has not been feeling well since. I’m sure he’s having some trouble digesting the rubber, the material, the hair ties and the extra dog food.

He’s a whining puddle of mush today and it’s very confusing to be so mad and feel bad for him at the same time. As I left the house daddy was telling him ” you had the hiccups all night because you were naughty and now you have the poops and you will be spending most of the day outside”. Thank goodness I had to go to work.

He has been better about things since Kimber came along but they’re still puppies.

I still cannot believe how much I say things I never thought I would have to say.  I find myself following them around and having random conversations, scolding, laughing or lecturing them.  Here are a few of my repeated phrases:

  • Don’t eat that.
  • Stop digging in that.
  • What’s in your mouth?
  • Get that out of your mouth!
  • Show me, open your mouth!
  • Stop right there Mr.!
  • I said stop!
  • Well  you don’t listen very good do you?
  • Did you poop?
  • Are you having trouble pooping?
  • No wonder it hurts to poop, you shouldn’t have eaten that aluminum can?
  • Go potty for mommy.
  • Do you need to go potty again, it’s bedtime.
  • Which one of you farted?
  • Oh come on!  If you would stop eating everything under the sun you wouldn’t smell like that.
  • Where are you, you’re way too quiet?!!

Now that Doc is old enough I’m going to have him start writing stories from his point of view, it may be much more interesting than mine.

 

The Joys of Bartending IX

It’s been quite some time, sorry about that.  Even though it’s been ages, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing things down or that nothing funny has been happening.   What it means is that life has been crazy busy and something has to get pushed to the side.  Unfortunately that’s been writing for me.  I’m going to try my hardest to be better…but I digress.

This last weekend was terribly entertaining as far as bartending was concerned.  It’s also much more entertaining after the fact then it was during the chaos.  Here’s how Friday night went for us.

It was a typical full moon night…..WEIRD.  Early in the night nothing specific stood out but the vibe was weird, the crowd was weird and people were drinking…. a lot!  My bartending partner and I would look at each other and shake our heads or shrug our shoulders every now and then to prove we knew, we just knew it was strange.  Her and I were even running into each other behind the bar more than normal, it was one of those days we were acting like we’d never worked together.  Even our karaoke singers were all over the board, normally we’re middle of the road with talent but this particular night we had amazing singers and then those singers that made you want to jab yourself in the ear with a sharp pencil.  Like I say to my customers “always applaud, for those who are bad, you applaud because it’s over”.

Around midnight the downhill slide reached warp speed.  One of our regulars who is normally very well-behaved became not so well-behaved.  On a normal night if we tell him it’s time to go home, he says ‘okay’ and promptly leaves and walk home.  On this not so normal night he said ‘okay’ and walked out the front door……only to immediately return through the back door.  Rinse and repeat seven times!!!  Yes I said SEVEN.  He had his eye on a woman he thought he was going to take home.  I’m pretty sure I don’t have to go into detail here when I say that would not have turned out so great for him.  It would have been like stepping up to the plate at a major league game with a wet dishcloth rather than a bat.  Finally my bartending partner raised her voice to a thunderous level, took him by the arm and escorted him to the corner and watched him cross the street.  I think we saved him from humiliation by making him leave without her.  He should be thanking us.

About the time we got done dealing with him, karaoke wrapped up and we were discussing the ‘weirdness’ of the night with the DJ, three guys walked in who had clearly been elsewhere for a few.  One of them is a regular and the other two we had seen before but were unfamiliar with any of their drunken habits.  They had a beer and the regular asked for a shot.  I said “no, no hard alcohol for you”, as usual, the regular agreed and we went on our merry way……until one of them wasn’t merry anymore.

It started with this kid accusing us (all of us, even his friends) of stealing his $50 bill.  We all stood around as he searched every pocket, more than once, and finally dug it out.  No apology, no nothing, just attitude.   Finally we had enough of him and asked him to leave…..now this is where all hell breaks loose.

We made him leave out the back door, he came in the front.  We made him leave out the front door, he came in the back.  Rinse and repeat too many times to count.  I would guess about the eighth or ninth time he started calling me a retard very loudly and over and over again.  Now, I don’t want to get physical with anyone but I will if I have to.  My hundred pound partner escorts him out the back door once more and tells him not to come back.  We spotted him walking around the building so I was waiting for him at the front door with my hands on his hips.

He opened the door, stepped in, saw me standing there and threw himself on the floor and started throwing a temper tantrum.  I would have started giggling here if I wasn’t so mad so I said “get off the floor and get out, just because we throw you out the back door, doesn’t mean you get to come back in the front door”.   About the time my lecture was complete a new song came on the juke box and no kidding, he looked up at me and said “oooohh, I love this song” and started playing air guitar while laying on the floor.  Again, hilarious now, not so funny then.

I put my head in my hands so I wouldn’t scream at the top of my lungs and he got up and got in my face.  He pulled back his arm like he was going to hit me and I said “please, please hit me”.  I’m pretty sure his buddy yelled “don’t hit her” so he ran to his buddy at the other end of the bar.  My partner then herded him out the back door once again, that time he grabbed onto everything he possibly could which resulted in tearing a bunch of posters off the wall.  One of the regulars followed her out for support.  I picked up torn pieces of posters and thought I better check on the situation outside.  When I got out there my partner said “grab the phone, we’re calling the cops”.  I asked if she was okay, she said “yes, he’s just very verbally abusive and called me the word you never call a woman” so I grabbed my phone and told the guy I was going to call the police.  He started running across the street, lost his shoe, fell and was rolling around in the middle of the street when I dialed 911.  That’s where he stayed, screaming and swearing while I was on the phone with dispatch.

I had to go back in because there were customers still in the bar, my partner and the regular stayed outside to wait for the police.  Once the police got there the kid tried to run and ended up in a fenced in apartment complex so couldn’t get away.  He did attempt to stand very still so the cops couldn’t see him….that didn’t work.  Once the spotlight was on him and the officer got out of the car, the kid threw his shoe at him which promptly got him arrested.

I was tending to matters inside which consisted of attempting to calm one of our giggling regulars down who couldn’t seem to control herself, we now call her the giggle patrol.  The officer came in to question me and the giggle patrol was right behind me giggling uncontrollably.  The officer asked my name and of course I had to be a smarty pants and make a comment about being one of America’s Most Wanted.  The giggle patrol only got worse and we struggled through the questioning.  Finally I told the officer “I really wanted to run him over when he was in the middle of the street”.  The officer looked at me, smiled and said “I would have looked the other way”.

I’m thankful he had a sense of humor at 1:45 AM after what I can only assume was a long Friday night for him too.

The Joys of Bartending VIII

There’s been some interesting things while bartending lately so I’ll give you a few bullet points of the highlights…..or lowlights, however you prefer to look at it. They’re highlights to me.

We got a complaint a couple weeks ago that a guy was being really weird to a group of girls out for a bachelorette party. He was saying things like “do you need me to protect you?”, “are you okay, I’m in the military and can save you”. Eventually he got to be a little too much so I told him he had to pay his tab and leave. As I went to run his tab, I got busy so asked my bartending partner to run his credit card because I asked him to leave. When she went to give him his card back he wanted to know her employee ID number because he was going to call the Department of Defense on us. I really hope the Department of Defense is working on more important things than bartenders who keep their bars clear of riff raff.

The same night the Department of Defense situation happened we had a couple using the women’s restroom for something other than what it’s intended for. The couple had just met about 30 minutes prior to last call and there must have been a sense of urgency and the women’s restroom was the place of choice to take care of said urgency. My bartending partner walked in to use the facilities and had to tell them to put their pants on and get out. I’m glad it wasn’t me that discovered them, I probably would have messed with them a bit before telling them to get out but that’s just me.

At 6:00 PM recently we had to ask a couple to not return to the bar because the wife was performing…..let’s call them…..indecent acts, in the bar. Immediately when they walked in we knew something was going to happen. They were clearly hopped up on something not so legal but well behaved…at first. After one drink, brandy neat, she started talking to one of the regulars, the bar was fairly empty so all eyes were on her when she got up to talk to a guy sitting at a table. It wasn’t long before she turned around and pulled down her pants. It was truly like attending a sporting event, first a hush goes over the crowd and then a collective ‘ohhhh’ and even some added ‘my god’ or ‘lord’ at the end of the ‘ohhhh’. So as any good bartenders would do, we continued to watch her antics with the rest of the crowd and listened to their whispers until we got up the nerve to approach her. The kicker to the mooning is that she never really pulled up her pants all the way so we all had a front row seat to observe the pink lace thong she was wearing and one bare cheek. It didn’t take long for the guy at the table to pack up and leave and oddly the couple followed him to the parking lot. I don’t even want to speculate about why but an employee of the bar went out and told them they weren’t welcome back in the bar.

I had a regular patron go into a coughing fit one day. He’s probably in his late sixties and was really sounding bad. I looked at the few people that were in the bar, looked at him and said “Don’t you dare die on my watch, if you do I’m going to drag you into the men’s bathroom and pretend I didn’t notice you.” The laughing didn’t help his cough at all but he survived thank goodness.

A few weeks ago, I once again wore a pair of jeans to work that I obviously shouldn’t have. Early in the shift as I was bending over to put cases of beer on the dolly I felt the release of pressure at my left back pocket. I knew it was bad, it had to be. I went back out to the bar and immediately two of the regulars knew something was up because my eyes were watering from the laughing and the embarrassment. I said “well, I have a situation and you need to tell me how bad it is”. I turned around and pulled up my shirt to show them and they immediately doubled over laughing. Thank goodness they were the only two sitting at the bar. After a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter they both said “It’s bad, you have to find a new pair of pants.” I had to leave my bartending partner on her own and hurry home to change my pants. I made record time and when I came back one of the two at the bar said “Did you get your pants changed?” I said “Yup, I’m good to go.” He looked at me, looked down, looked at me again and said “Then you might want to pull up your zipper.” That caused another bought of uncontrollable laughter, at my expense, which I’m okay with.

A guy came in while I was working and was a talker. After rambling on for a few minutes he said “What’s your name?” I said “Susan”. He said “Nice to meet you, I’m Joe.” As I look over at one of my regulars he mouths “Susan?” to me. I just smiled and went about my business. Joe eventually left and my regular says “What the hell are you telling him your name is Susan for?” I said “When I don’t want someone to know my real name I’m Susan.” He starts laughing and said, “Someone asked the bartender the other day when Susan worked and she said “Oh we don’t have a Susan here”, now I get what’s happening, that’s funny.” I just smiled, shrugged and walked away.

Christmas Kick-Off

Christmas is over but the memories remain.  My Christmas was kicked off on the Eve of Christmas Eve while bartending.  It was a pretty good kick-off because it’s given me lots of material to talk about and something to write about.

About two hours into a nine hour shift She (I wrote about her and her contact lens previously) arrived.  I looked to the heavens and said a small prayer prior to serving her a vodka diet coke.  “Tall, I want a strong one” she ordered.  Well, when I’m working that gets you nowhere, in fact, it may get you a drink that’s slightly light on the alcohol just because.  I hate to do that but if you want a strong drink and a bartender that likes you, order and pay for a double.  A bartender will make your drink however they make their drinks.  You will not persuade them by telling them to ‘make it strong’.

This woman is a talker, and I mean a talker, she talks non-stop, to no one, about nothing.  She not only butts into everyone else’s conversation, she touches them, hugs them and has no concept of personal space.  Oh, and, she’s also a singer.  Not a singer in the ‘I can sing’ kind of way but a singer in the ‘I sound like a cat that’s being dragged behind a car’ kind of way, and she loves to play the juke box.

Her and I were in juke box bliss (read that with sarcasm please) when the two boys came in.  I carded them so know they were 24 and 25.  I should probably mention here that she’s 49 and doesn’t look a day over 57.  She noticed the boys right away, got a look on her face like a cougar in heat and apparently started plotting her pounce.  After they were about half a beer in, she moseyed up, put her arms around them and said “Hi boys”, in her sexiest of voices (I’m rolling my eyes as I type that).  Now, prior to her doing that I had apologized to these two lovely gentlemen for anything that may come out of her mouth that was offensive.  They’re reply, “we can’t wait”.

She first asked their names, they were Bob and Brian, which was completely not true and of course she basically gave her name, rank, serial number, home phone number and the lowdown on her marital status, which shockingly enough, is SINGLE.  This is about the time the boys started giggling and they didn’t stop through two more beers, two shots and about 15 songs.  Them giggling of course made me giggle and the night was off to a very interesting start.  At one time she rubbed her nose on Bob’s back and said “Ohhh, my nose is so cold”, the look on his face was priceless when immediately following that she said “I think I’m flirting with you, that would make me a cougar”.  his eyes screamed “what the hell just happened, you have to help me” but that was the point of no return for me and for Bob.   No way, no how were we going to stop laughing.

The ‘cougar chronicles’ continued through “Love is a Battlefield”, “Fat Bottomed Girls”, “Hell Is For Children” and “Angel of the Morning”.  She serenaded them like I have never heard before in my life.  At one point I put my phone on record, set it on the bar and let it ride.  Her serenading is forever recorded.  I just have no idea how to share it yet because the file is too big, I’ll figure it out eventually though.  I would hate to not be able to share it with all of you, it’s pretty awesome.   Just in case you have any thoughts that she might have known the words to any of those songs, you are completely mistaken.

The boys finally left while apologizing for having to meet friends elsewhere and assured me they would be back another night.  I asked them to take her with but they respectfully declined.  I personally think Brian was headed home to change his shirt that she kept rubbing her nose on but that’s just my opinion.

After the boys left, she continued to ramble on and sing until her cab arrived for the second time, she had sent him away the first time because she was having so much fun flirting.  When her second chariot arrived she almost forgot her purse, phone and money on the bar so I had to stop her prior to getting out the door.  I shook my head and said a thank you for the peace and quiet as the door closed.

About 45 minutes after she left, two police officers walked in the front door….with her following behind, covered in snow.  I cannot begin to explain to you the thoughts that invaded my brain when I spotted her.  All I could say was “Hi officers, can I help you?”.  They said “we understand she was in here earlier.”.  Of course I told them she had been.  While she was in the bathroom, they told me she had lost her purse and couldn’t get in her house.  I filled in what blanks I could and they finally called the cab company and found out she had been dropped off at the gas station.  She told the driver she was going to walk home from there.

They found out she had her purse at the gas station so they thanked me and left on the next leg of the adventure with the cougar.  I doubt I have to mention here that she was completely flirting with the officers.   I laughed and once again shook my head as they left me.  Thinking that was one too many times seeing her that night.

About 11:30 I started my closing routine, taking out the trash, checking bathrooms, straightening stools and there it was……..her cellphone……..on the corner of the bar.  Well crap, what to do about that?  I checked the recent calls and texts to see if there was anything from her from a home phone or a friend’s phone.  Nothing.  Knowing we were closed for the next two days I figured I would take it with me and track her down the following day, in her ramblings she managed to tell me where she worked along with a thousand other details of her life.

At 11:45 the front door flew open and there She stood.  Red faced, shivering and red faced.  I closed my eyes, laughed and finally said “Hey, you’re here to pick up your phone, glad you made it”.  She said “Yeah, I need my phone in order to get up for work”.   Then she said “Man, I had the cops at my house”.  I said “I know, they brought you in here because you lost your purse”.  She said “They did?”.  Then she went on and on how she didn’t understand how they knew she lost her purse since she didn’t have a phone and they were in her living room and then of course added they were kind of hot.

I tried over and over again to explain to her how she hadn’t left her phone at the bar until after she tried to go home and lost her purse on the way but she just wasn’t in any condition to comprehend.  Finally I went out and started my car, told her to go and wait in the car and I locked up the bar.  When we were on the way to her house she said “You know, I don’t have much but I have a little bit of pot at home so you’re welcome to come in and we’ll smoke it”.  At this point, nothing surprises me about her so I politely said “No thanks, I’ve got to get up early”.  She thanked me excessively and got out.  I waited for her to climb the snow bank and get in the house.

I took the remainder of the drive to piece together what had happened to her and here’s what I came up with.  She had the cab drop her off at the gas station, she bought a bag full of crap, walked home and on the walk she took a digger in a snow bank and dropped her purse in the fall.  She got home, couldn’t get in the door,  called the police, they retraced her steps to the bar, the gas station and the snow bank and found her purse.  She then walked back to the bar to pick up the phone she forgot on her second visit.  I laughed out loud thinking of it, wishing it would have somehow been filmed and was happy the adventurous evening was over.

I’m curious to see what she says next time she comes in and how much she actually remembers.  All I know……it’s always interesting when she’s in the bar.

Sleepless in Minnesota

I don’t like to wish ill on anyone but I am glad I’m not the only member of some clubs.  Like this sleepless issue I have, it seems others suffer from the same thing, possibly for different reasons but sleepless nonetheless.

My friend Sharon was kind enough to share her story with me and I would love to share it with all of you.  I’ve been slacking in my stories lately so guest writers are always welcome.

“Sleep or No Sleep, We Must Get Along”

As I have gone through several stages of life, sleepless nights have created a variety of entertainment for me. I have experienced bouts of sleep deprivation for many years. Reasons, reactions, and outcomes of long nights with little sleep have always resulted to be quite interesting. The positive side is the opportunity to share stories and laughter with friends.

Mischievous thoughts are plentiful when you have an awesome husband with nighttime flaws such as falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. It took me many years to understand and accept this flaw. I lie next to him and want to talk about the day or ask questions about tomorrow. The usual response I get is, “Yes, dear.” and before I realize it, he’s sleeping. And I remain wondering, how does that happen and why doesn’t it happen to me? Then before I know it, his snoring begins and another sleepless night begins for me.

Years ago, one night my husband was asleep on his back, pillow over his eyes and forehead, mouth open and was snoring. My mind raced to find a solution to this problem. The only thing I could think of at the time was to hold his nose shut. I thought about it for a while before I acted. I thought, hmm, can’t hurt him because his mouth was open. So I proceeded to pinch his nose shut. As one may have guessed, that was not a smart choice. He was gasping and swinging his arms. I laughed; he didn’t because he elbowed me in the head. The next time I attempted this maneuver; I kept a slight distance from him and put a pillow by my face. I succeeded. He stopped snoring and rolled over. I remember that outcome being a little too boring for my taste.

Throughout the years, I have implemented a variety of actions that I thought would be a solution. After 20+ years of marriage, his snoring and my sleepless nights continue. As my frustrations surge, I say a few naughty words directed at him, and proceed to leave our bedroom and venture to a different bedroom.  Why I bother saying anything is beyond me because he doesn’t hear me anyways!

Last night I awakened at 12:40 a.m., wishing it was 5:40 a.m. so I could get out of bed and do something, I knew it was going to be a long night. Of course the mind starts to plan the day and prioritize everything. Like that’s going to happen when sleep has not been part of my routine for quite some time. Once again, my frustrations surged, I said a few naughty words directed at him, and proceed to leave our bedroom and venture to a different bedroom. I lay in bed and thought about our day’s accomplishments and what we still had to get done in preparation for the winter months. That did not heighten sleepiness at all because I started to smile and giggle to myself, followed by a reflection of my mischievous actions in our younger marital years.

At about 2:30 a.m., I logged onto Facebook and played Candy Crush. Through the walls, I could hear my husband snoring. I mumble utterly to myself and became completely frustrated with Candy Crush. I logged off of Facebook and thought, hmm, what can I do now? Then, I had a thought. I went to the garage because I thought of a sign I hung on the wall. I read the sign, and then looked at the boat and snow blower. This concludes how I spent the wee hours this morning.

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And you two must share a garage stall!

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