The Joys of Bartending X

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written about bartending. Not because nothing funny has been happening but because I thought everyone was sick of hearing about it. I’ve been getting requests to start back up so I figured I would start with something a bit different. Instead of talking about the nutjobs I serve drinks to I will ease back into it by talking about me as a bartender.

I’m 48 years old and I’m wondering when I should be retiring from this portion of my life. It’s 4:30 AM and I just got done eating “breakfast” because I didn’t eat “dinner”. I use those terms loosely because when I bartend, traditional meals and sleep schedules are completely thrown out the window.

My ankles feel like they’ve been hit by Kathy Bates in the movie Misery. The only difference is that it happened over and over again, starting about 9:00 PM. I wouldn’t mind Kathy showing up right now to tend to my wounds, as sad as that is.

The bottom of my feet feel like I’m continuously walking over one of those nubby shower mats…that’s upside down. I would like to throw that mat away. My shoes had a small but noticeable blow out by the big toe, even it gave out.

My thighs are chaffed from my jeans, it’s a miracle that a fire wasn’t started with all the rubbing together that happened during my shift. I’m sure there’s some sort of salve or powder for that….I will Google it as soon as I’m done here. I think I will stay clear of the powder as that sounds like I would find some sort of paste when I got home. Kind of like Ross from Friends when he wore leather pants.

As I’m moving up my body I will spare you all the details of parts of my body that sweat, that until I bartended I didn’t know it was possible for them to sweat. I will tell you that I cannot wear enough layers to stop that annoying river that runs down the crack of my….well….you know.

Speaking of my ass, my back is very very tired of holding it up and I’m pretty sure it’s the reason my ankles and feet feel the way they do. My entire body is waging a protest against the size of my ass, I should probably do something about that. A red DOT flag is pending.

My bra gave up hours ago and the underwire has worked its way out to poke me in the top of the breast. I wonder how long one has been hanging that much lower than the other? I’m sure the shirt I’m wearing (otherwise known as an upper body pressure bandage (God Bless Sam who I stole that line from)) does not hide anything so I dare to bet someone noticed and I am the subject of their social media post or their blog story. I have no doubt I have been on a People of Walmart post at some point in my life.

Bartending is not for the faint of heart and not just because of the people you have to deal with. I know the skinniest of people who struggle with hurting body parts after a long shift. It’s a tough job but somebody has to do it. Let’s hope I won’t have to do it for much longer. Oh, that reminds me, I need to go buy a lottery ticket.

It’s a Doc’s Life: The First Year

I now know the meaning of “time flies when you’re having fun”. Wow has this past year flown by. I think I finally have the humans somewhat trained, it’s been a long process but they’re coming along nicely. I can see why other dogs say “don’t give up, they’ll get there” and “it’s a lifelong job to raise humans”. It’s a tough job but it’s rewarding.

I have a lot to catch you up on, I’ve been hiding my stories under the kennel so it took Mom until we moved houses to find them. I haven’t been writing as much as I wanted to because I’m very busy and have a couple new playmates….but I’ll get to that.

After my kennel incidents and getting moved to the new kennel, things calmed down a bit. Mom and Dad and I got into a pretty good routine. I got them trained on a nighttime routine pretty early on. I would get put in the kennel at bedtime each night and we would all go to sleep. I would wake up and whine and Mom would take me outside to go potty. I say Mom because Dad sleeps like a rock, nothing wakes him up, or so I thought. It didn’t take me long to realize he fakes it so he doesn’t have to get up and let me out, I’m pretty sure Mom knows but there’s not really anything she can do about it. I can’t blame him, I’ve become a master a “faking”. Anyway, once Mom lets me in from my late night bathroom break I get to go in the big bed because I was a “goodboy” and went potty. Good thing I can pee on demand because I really don’t have to go, I just know it will get me into the big bed. Pretty sure Mom knows that too but I give her the “eyes” and she melts. Plus, I’m a darn good snuggler.

Things were rolling along nicely and I was having a blast being the only child….well except for the 13-year-old but she’s only there on the weekends…plus, I like snuggling with her, I get to sleep in her bed when she’s there and I’m just waiting for the day she’s with us all the time, then there’s no more kennel at night because she lets me sleep with her all the time. Keeping my paws crossed on that one. Her and I have an understanding.

Just as we got into a routine, life changed. And I mean changed forever. We went for a car ride one day and I got to play with this very cool, very beautiful girl dog. She smelled spectacular, I fell in love. We’re about the same age so I thought this was some sort of ‘blind date’ and we would get together every now and then and possibly make very cute puppies together. Uff da was I wrong. She got in the car and came home with us! Ok, a sleepover is cool! Well I was wrong again, she still hasn’t left!!

I was very mad to have a new housemate, even though she’s a pretty cool chick. I’m a guy, I needed my own space, I wanted my freedom, I was still young. I really didn’t want anyone cramping my style. So much for my opinion, she stayed.

Her name is Kimber and she really is awesome. I say that now but it took awhile for me to truly come to terms with her being there. I went from a household where I wore the pants…and Mom….but as far as pets go, I was the shit, numero uno, the top dog. And then there was Kimber. Mom and Dad say she’s the alpha dog. I didn’t know what that was at first but I’m a quick learner. We play when she wants to play, we snuggle when she wants to snuggle and I eat whenever she lets me eat. She’s not mean, just very sure of herself and wants to run the show. I’m sure if I was a human I’d probably be dressed in chaps and a ball gag.

Kimber and I get into lots of trouble sometimes. She’s a runner and an explorer, me not so much. I’m more of a eater and lolligagger. I do like to play with her but I get tuckered out before she does. She’s a bit smaller than I am and a little wider but she’s a whole lot faster!! Man that girl can move. Once I’ve had a little rest, she sits on me and bites my leg to get me to get up and play again. By bedtime we’re pretty worn out.

Because she’s such an explorer she smells kind of bad a lot. She rolls in stuff, walks through stuff and rubs up against anything. There are times Mom and Dad leave her outside until it’s time for a shower, which she doesn’t like at all. Then I’m mad at her because Mom and Dad figure if they’re giving her a bath, I should get one as well. Life is not fair.

We moved into a new house a few months ago but I’ll save that for a new story. We went from a big house to a very tiny house. The good news is our kennel won’t fit in the bedroom so we get to sleep on the big bed all the time. The bad news is, we’re all a lot bigger but the bed isn’t. Good thing Dad and I are heavy sleepers because from what I hear it gets pretty crowded and doesn’t always work out best for Kimber and Mom. Mom says it’s asses to elbows in bed at night which seems to be true from what I can see in the morning.

Here’s fairly recent photo of us. Kimber’s a bit chunkier now…don’t you dare tell her I said that. Dad calls her is Chunky Monkey, Mom yells at him.

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Until next time.

Love,

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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.

puppydoc

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.

docandkimber2

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.