Tonight, if you plan on getting shitfaced at your local bar and inappropriately flirting with your waitress to the point of her considering calling the authorities, here’s a little advice for you:
Remember to sign your credit card slip. Remember to add in the tip. Try not to drop a twenty on the ground as you storm out of the bar, stumbling into barstools.
My new buddy John forgot to do this last night. Guess who added in her own tip and pocketed the twenty. Yep, that’s me. The girl wearing “ninja” shoes who is “pretty, but would look better in purple than that gray shirt.”
John, who started playing the Golden Tee at about 4 p.m. yesterday while consuming approximately 10 Stella’s and four Crown on the rocks over the course of the evening, started off pretty harmless. Weird, and a bit of creep, telling me he was going to buy me heels because I kept sneaking up on him in my “ninja” shoes —but nothing too disturbing. Just your average borderline sexual harasser.
Not surprisingly, though, once he added whiskey to the mix, he started upping his creepy factor:
Showing posts with label drunks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drunks. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
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