Diet Coke Plus!

Seriously, Diet Coke Plus is probably the best idea ever. Now the deluded souls who want to fool themselves into thinking Diet is an acceptable substitute for delicious full sugar, full calorie goodness - or indeed that Coke of any kind is worthy of licking 7up's balls - can get some niacin, B12, B6, zinc and magnesium with their beverage. Yum! Take that Vitamin Water! Also, my friends across the pond tell me there's a big Coke boycott after an 'expose' on the 'news' that Dasani (Coke brand bottled water) is - brace yourself - tap water run through a Brita.

The bottled water thing is amazing really. 10 years ago only the gays and the french (two pretty much interchangeable terms in the UK anyway)did the bottle thing. Today I woke up (ahem) a little dehydrated, and rather than staggering the 10 feet to the kitchen in my skivvies, I went through the whole getting dressed nonsense and walked an ENTIRE BLOCK to my deli to get water. Tap water never even occurred to me.

So what was with all the people in my deli buying beer at 11.30am? 9pm, yes. 7am - usually a bad idea, usually have had too much already, but sure. But lunchtime? And gay beer too - one of the guys bought a six pack of Smirnoff Ice.

In fact I think this week was official gay drink week and someone forgot to tell me. The following is a list of drinks I have served - to guys - this week.
Smirnoff Ice
Pina Colada
Malibu Baybreeze
Baileys
Tequila Sunrise
White Russian
Malibu Pineapple
Amaretto Sour
Midori Sour
Some disgusting concoction of milk, Kahlua and Baileys
Santorum on the rocks (okay not really)
Gay gay gay.And can anyone order a White Russian without at least acknowledging The Big Lebowsi? Well apparently they can but it makes me hate them a bit.



I just found this pic on my cousin's Bebo page. Apparently you give this guy $50 and he'll show up like this - at any bar in town. Awesome. Too bad my cousin lives in Oz, I totally want that guy at my next night out. - This is from my high school friend's page. Fucking scary, right? If I knew my kid could look like that, even through the wonders of photoshop, I'd never sleep again.

Just did the 'what the fuck did I do last night' text check. Not bad at all, but apparently I gave my number to someone (maybe the random guy holding me up in the pic below?) as I have a couple of missed calls and a text from a strange number. The text is Your legs speak for themselves. Sigh, I wish they did. And I wish what they said was, go home already, you drunken retard.

Here is a photo from last night

Yup, that's me. And nope, I don't remember.

Bad bars make me sad

I recently moved to the neighbourhood I work in, and I'm hunting for a new local so I don't end up drinking in my own place all the time. There are so many bad bars around here it's unbelievable. There's the nearby dive that, whilst I like dives, is so scuzzy I want to shower in bleach after just walking by. There's the local hotspot that has a, well, generous ID policy - I feel like I'm prom chaperon every time I go. There's the local where you can never get a drink because the bartender is always sharking on whatever young blond is in that night. But the two I tried last night took the biscuit.

My regular told me about a new place, 30 tap beers, great food, near the movie theatre. Sounds fab. I checked out the menu before going in, and they offer peppercorn sauce with burgers - I'm sold. Everything is better with peppercorn sauce. My Fake Boyf got there first and ordered a burger. I arrived, with a raging thirst of course and only 30 minutes to slake it before the movies. There's no-one behind the bar.....still no-one........no-one....'maybe the bartender's actually cooking your burger'... After ten minutes he wanders in from wherever, pours me a beer and a Jager, wanders off again. I'm saying to My Fake Boyf, I like this place, wonder why it's not busier? I didn't like the beer I ordered, and plus, only half an hour before the movie!, so I pawned it off on My Fake Boyf and decided to order a Manhattan. The other bartender comes behind bar, I try to catch her eye but no luck, she left again and sat in a couch making out with her guy. Bartender 1 is nowhere to be seen. I wait and wait, timing it this time. After 12 minutes I went for a smoke. I get very antsy and irritable when made to wait for liquor, nicotine was necessary to stop me from breaking some shit. I went back inside, waited some more....Hey, a bartender sighting! He took my order, then - hey, bartender 2's back there too! So they decided to have a little chat about something whilst not making my goddamn drink already. From deciding to order to getting drink took 24 minutes. That is ridiculous. But now I know why the place isn't busy. I won't be back. Plus if somebody orders Jager at my bar I know there's a good chance they're a fast drinking lush like myself, and I'm all over them. As a customer I was thirsty and annoyed, as a pro I was baffled. Someone wants to spend money in a place but can't get service - with two bartenders working? Place is doomed. Also it was a terrible Manhattan, tasted inexplicably like a Bloody Mary.

Second bad bar defies belief. It's a local dive. People were smoking indoors at 9pm which is the true dive bar test in my opinion. If you don't make people go outside at least until 11 then you really just don't care. No Maker's Mark, okay it's a fairly standard liquor but I'll make do with Jack. This is what knocked me on my ass. The bartender (Irish, mid 40s so clearly either a lifer or an owner) asked me "What's a Manhattan?' What. The. Fuck. I'm sure she doesn't make many, I can't remember the last time I made one other than for myself, but come on. It's like Bartender 101. It gets worse though, she was baffled when I told her sweet vermouth, apparently never heard of it. Then when I asked for a plastic cup for cigs, she handed me a highball glass off the shelf and told me to use that. The same glass that some poor fool is drinking vodka tonic out of today. Come on, even dive bars have to have some standards. I had some jerk kid the other day who kept putting cigarettes out in his drink glass despite having an ashtray right in front of him. So I made his next drink in the same glass, butts and all.

My bar really is the best bar in the neighbourhood. That's great, and makes me proud, but it sucks when I need somewhere to do some incognito boozing. Guess I'll still be hanging around the old nabe a lot.

Speaking of Stuff that Sucks... My Love Life

So I was wasted again last night, but, you know, wasted like a normal person not like a homeless man. And I brought somebody home! And then changed my mind and kicked them out 15 minutes later! I suck!

The Ex flaked on me - his brother bought a boat. Just think about that for a second. A boat. Bought by a construction worker. In Queens. It makes all kinds of no sense. Anyway they had to go pick it up and park it or whatever the hell it is you do with boats. My friends just opened a wine bar (ick) on the UES (double ick) so I decided to show some love. Asked FB if he wanted to come along but he was at Met game. I was pleasantly surprised, not the parade of retardery I expected (although of course, this being Friday, the entire UES stuck in traffic on the LIE) but a nice, mostly service industry crowd. Food was good, wine was great. I'd told FB I'd meet him after game, but no answer when I called him about 11:30.

So I took myself back to my bar. We got a mention in Time Out New York this week and I wanted to show it off. Of course who is standing outside but FB. I truly don't get this guy, his entire being lights up when I walk into a room but he still acts all meh about me... maybe he truly is emotionally unavailable. We chatted, but I started hanging out with a new guy I find cute. I'm going with the unavailable and apparently a total bitch thing. FB was leaving and I was chatting to Long Island Guy (LIG). He texted me just after he walked out asking me to come over. I replied basically, nope, you had your chance earlier, now I'm hitting on someone else. Wow. I am a BEEEYATCH. But again, apparently it's working, as I got a message from him at 9am (and who is up at 9am on Saturday? I told you, OCD) asking to meet up with me after my date tonight...
This is a pretty apt description of what goes on with me and FB.



So tonight's date is with my fake boyf (MFB). He is nuts about me, but I am not into him and he knows it. He's a handy movie date though, until about once a month he tells me he loves me via text and I have to shut him down. I was kind of crushing on him for a while, then we slept together. And it was Not. Good. He's the one I was whinging about a few days ago who somes into the bar and glowers at every guy I have the cheek to talk to. I was considering cutting off the movie dates, but he's unemployed and a bit lonely too, so I'd feel bad stopping. Maybe I'll hook up with FB after and have hot, emotionally unavailable, no kissing sex. My love life sucks ass.

I guess all those MySpace posts calling me evil have a point...

Jesus. Last night turned into a clusterfuck of unholy proportions.

Met my buddy Marine at my bar to pregame. We always do this, and usually it's the best. Unfortunately last night we both had our drinking hats on. Approximately 47,000 Jacks and Jagers later, we show up at the game an hour late and totally out of our trees. All I remember is asking him 'What's the score? Boo.....What's the score? Boo....What's the score?' You get the idea. Oh and twice forgetting where we were sitting after bathroom/cigarette breaks and him having to come find me. Hee. Bet he had an awesome time. Which, I found out today when I apology-texted him, got even awesomer -

NO NEED FOR SORRY... I BURNT DOWN MY KITCHEN. FIRE DEPT AND ALL.

Holy crap. He woke up to a horde of sexy, sexy firefighters (sigh, I wish that was how I woke up every day) and an apartment so filled with smoke he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. They wanted to take him in for smoke inhalation, but he toughed it out. The apartments a disaster, bad smoke damage, so he has to crash with the parentals on the island for a while. I guess that's what happens when you party with the pros...

Incidentally I am 0-4 for Met games attended this year. Time to start staying home, I'm clearly a jinx.

I have been halfheartedly hooking up with this guy (FB) for a while. I say halfheartedly because clearly neither of us is that into it. He's a regular, a bit OCD suit and tie Blackberry addict guy whilst I am a l lazy spaz and averse to hooking up with customers. But I shamelessly whored myself out for transport and free hotel room for an out of town gig I wanted to see, and whilst nothing happened that weekend, we got on very well and I decided to give him a whirl. He's also a very private guy so I knew we could do it without the whole goddamn bar finding out. But, first off, he doesn't like to kiss. I mean come on, everyone likes to kiss! And sex with minimal or no making out makes me feel like a hooker, and not in a good way. Despite this, I drunk texted him whenever I was horny, not having any other prospects at the moment. This was problem three. The drunk text kind of annoyed him (I say some very random stuff in drunken text. I also have a tendency to send them to the wrong person, which luckily hasn't gotten me in trouble - yet) and we weren't hanging out together at all, just 2am hookups.

I kind of grew to like him a bit, and the fact that were only honoring the fuck side of our fuckbuddy pact and not the buddy part - like, can we go for a beer together sometime or what? - was irritating. Actually it's probably why I like him, emotional unavailability is hot y'all. He was decidedly meh about me. I am saying this fully aware of what a douchebag it makes me sound, but the guy should have been a little happier to be banging a hot piece of ass like me! So I pulled the plug. Not officially or anything, just stopped calling/texting.

And it seems to have done the trick. He texted me last night - I hear you were at the bar, still in neighbourhood? Whatevs, drunk and horny I presumed, but wierd as it was always me who initiated contact. I was toasted and at home so I didn't reply til today - Sorry I missed you, called it a night early. He called me back in a millisecond(!) to let me know he's around all weekend if I want a beer. Huh. And also, play the game, dude. Who says they're free all weekend? I'd make stuff up if I had to. Actually, I made up dinner plans for tonight on that call (I'm actually hanging with The Ex, not a good thing to tell the new). Anyway, this is a radical departure from normal. We only communicate by text, only at 2am, and only when one of us is drunk. I guess unavailability IS hot.

So we're going for a beer tonight or tomorrow. I'm still leaning towards just being friends. Hell, maybe he is too and just wants to make it official. We shall see.

BTW, someone at Time Out New York loves my bar! Good, I just wish I knew who it was. Time for some supersleuthing methinks.

I am so totally a Yank

Went to two slightly wierd and uncomfortable parties yesterday. The second was a wedding party for two regulars I don't know very well, civilised, not too exciting. The first though may well have been the crowning achievement of my six years in the US - my first where I was the only Irish person there, MY FIRST KEG! WOO!, and my first beer pong! So American I can hardly stand it y'all.


I was even hit on by some overgrown frat dude (pastel polo - from Burberry no less - popped collar and all) in the following manner.
'You're Irish? Cool, me too, my last name's O'Neill.'
'You think I'm goodlooking? I'm huge too. Huge.'
'I'm on track to make a million this year.'
I'm not kidding, these were the first three sentences this asshat spoke to me. Still at least he was speaking to me - I only knew the three guys who threw it. There were about 30 frat boys and rookie cops, and about six girlfriends. And me, apparently the only single girl there. There was only so much babysitting the hosts could do, and the girls were fine but not too friendly. The guys were mostly taken up with the beer pong league, it was early i.e. male bonding time. I left before it got late i.e. bro, are there any chicks at this thing or what time. I meant to come back after showing face at the second. Come on, I was the only girl and rookie cops - yum! Not to date maybe but there were some fine looking boys at that barbecue... However didn't eat all day as I am a moron and the margaritas I was drinking knocked me on my ass.


About frat dude - that money thing drives me nuts. I can pay my own way thank you, it is the biggest turn off when some twat tries to impress with his salary. My friend is a social worker, he's cute, funny and blah blah blah, and when women hit on him in the bar he says 90% of the time their eyes glaze over and they're on to the next victim when they realise he'll never make more than 50 thou. O'Neill there, when his words didn't make me drop my knickers immediately, asked me why Irish girls don't like American guys. We do, sweetie, we just don't like scumbags in general and YOU in particular. (Guess where he lives? UES, what a shocker.) Rather awesomely, his friend wandered over at this point and told him 'She's Irish? You're shit out of luck, dude, they don't care about money, they're all about the personality'. Hee, even his friends know he won't get laid on charm alone.