Parades of retardery

I'm sorry, but it's my current favourite phrase. And tonight truly was one.

Warning - bitchery, of interest to no-one but myself.

Goddamn Salvation Army was sitting at the bar when I walked in. We haven't seen him in a few months, thought we were through; this guy fantasizes about being military/fire dept when really he's a (whatever professiom you hate the most) fron fucking NJ - not that I have that much against NJ, but how the fuck did he end up a regular in my bar? I was working with the New Girl for first time, and she was crazy flirtatious as is her style - I told her she would hate him within 90 mins. And, as always, I was correct. The idiot managed to tell me that whilst in Germany last week (BUH-leeeve) that he wasn't allowed to leave his (imaginary) base as the terror alert, on him personally, was more than red. WTF? But I am down with the idea of people wanting to shoot this guy, he will NEVER shut the fuck up already. With his fake and boring stories about being in service. Come on, if you're making it up at least make it interesting and dramatic you boring fuck... Jeez, I guess I'm feeling particularly venomous.But I am super stressed.

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So again I would like to point out I LOVE my job and my customers. But it's usually the bad stuff you need to get off your chest, which is why I end up ranting and raving so much. Part of the night was hilarious, I brought water pistols in and we had a massive staff v customer water fight between 3 and 4am. And one of the guys left us this which was hee-larious. And New Girl knows how to work a crowd, I was useless after the cell pic incident but she hustled and we made pots and pots of cash. Still, it's six am, and I am hopping the walls.