I see pieces of my dad in every man I meet

My dad was taken too early from us five years ago this August. While I think I've dealt with his passing as well as I possibly can, he is always in the back of my mind. I don't think he'll ever leave there nor do I want him to. I do wish we had more time together but we did get 25 years...which is more than some people get. When Dad died...I cried, I screamed, and I hit inanimate objects-mainly my walls. I wanted nothing but to have Dad back. We got through his funeral. I acted as the strong one holding up my mom and my sisters but inside I was screaming "Not my Daddy! Please let this all be a horrible nightmare!" A nightmare it was but instead of a bad dream where you wake up sweaty and shaking, this was real life. I was pissed off at the world and even more pissed at the guy who hit him and left him for dead in the ditch. "You fucker! You can't say you didn't see him! Why couldn't you have grown the balls to turn yourself in? I hope you live everyday seeing his face. I plastered it on posters, on the news, and in the papers for you to see." If I could have gotten my hands on that guy I know I'd be sitting in a prison cell for murder. I would have killed him with my bare hands.

Fortunately I've gotten over my murderous instincts. While I don't know if I can ever find it in me to forgive my Dad's killer...I know that if I did find him I wouldn't inflict bodily harm. I think that's saying alot.

I started thinking of this post the other day. I had a customer who walked into the bar and just for a moment I saw my dad. This guy had a walk very similar to my Dad's lazy gait. I was instantly taken back to my childhood and saw my childhood home. I saw my dad walking around our house in his holey t-shirts and worn out jeans with the bulging pockets because he carried every damn key known to mankind. His wallet chain and the 20 pounds of metal in his pockets from keys to change jingled with every step he took.
Then there was the man who in his talking said certain key phrases that my dad used to say. My husband will do this sometimes without even knowing it. I often wonder if he does it because he heard my dad say it or what.

Today I saw something that prompted me to write about this. I took Courtney to Carls Jr for lunch. I was running errands and needed a quick meal before I had to finish and go to work. We sat at a booth for two and proceeded to devour our food. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man who was painstakingly trying to get the last bit of guacamole out of a little plastic cup with a fork. I glanced over at him and saw that he had already emptied one cup and was trying to finish the second. His deep fried burrito was glopped full of sour cream, salsa, and guacamole. I almost let out a laugh as the memories of my dad came flooding back. Dad used to do the same thing! As I watched this guy (and tried hard to make it look like I wasn't) he scraped the inside of the little cup with his fork and then would lick his utensil. He was so focused on getting every last drop out of that damn plastic cup that you could have dropped a bomb next to him and he wouldn't have even noticed. All I thought is that Dad used to embarrass the crap outta me by doing that. Then I got all teary eyed and had to look down hoping nobody saw the tears running down my cheeks. Courtney, thankfully, was oblivious to her crying momma and was more concerned with how much BBQ sauce she could get on one chicken star. We left as soon as she finished.

I love how I can pick out traits my dad had in almost every man I come across. I wish I could bottle it up and keep it forever because I know there will come a day when I forget. I'll forget his walk. I'll forget the sound of his voice. I'll forget his smell.

So keep it coming guys of the world. I don't want to forget my daddy!

Ode to my neighbors

Neighbors, Neighbors Quite the site
Hear you yell, Hear you fight
See you through your window light
Wish you would hush for the night

Neighbors, Neighbors I wish you might
Please Shut up until daylight!

What doesn't kill you makes you go insane

The thing that makes me insane is just a three letter word...job. Mine to be exact. If it doesn't kill me first.

Wine Makes It All Go Away

I wish I was this amazing writer who could captivate my audience with just my words. Sorry to say I only have a mediocre writing style. I have noticed though that my drunken rampages on the computer end up much better than my sober blogging. (Note to self...must drink more before opening laptop!) But isn't that how most great writers are? Hemingway was a faboulous...drunk...I mean...author. He somehow managed to write many great works drunk off his ass. The only thing I can figure is that by drinking you allow your mind to open to this secret room in the creative consciousness in the realm of this world. Or you just don't give a fuck what you're writing. Either way it usually comes out comprehendable and better than if you wrote it sober. I do know that when I write sober I end up second guessing myself and deleting the last paragraph I wrote. And then the one before that. And the one before that. Next thing I know I'm staring at a blank screen. But when I do my inebriated blogging....well I get as close to a masterpiece as I'm probably ever going to get.

So here's to drunk blogging. It's nothing like drunk emailing. Now that can be embarrassing!

How not to become the next bar patron asshat

If you've ever walked into a bar you know the type of person I'm talking about. The annoying asshat in the bar who makes everyone roll their eyes and gets the worse service possible in the world. The following is to help you make sure you are not that person.



Enter the bar in a normal fashion. Please don't be a diva or a total ass. We don't need an announcement that you've entered. Do not make a huge scene when you enter the premises. Only Norm on Cheers is announced. You are just a regular human patron just like everybody else. Your friends will greet you and if you are a regular, so will the bartender.



Wait your turn at the bar. I can guarantee that the bartender saw you walk up. Do not wave your money or your hands at the bartender like you are trying to shoo away flies...unless you really are trying to. We see you and as soon as we have serviced the people before you, we will get to you. Do not shout your drink order as soon as we look at you. We are just acknowledging that we see you and will be with you shortly. You will know that we are ready for your order when we ask for it. Also along with the first rule, do not shout your order to us when you enter from the other side of the room. Be normal and walk up to the bar like everybody else. We will ignore those who ignore our rules.



When said bartender finally asks for your order...be ready. We are busy and don't have time to wait for your indecisiveness. If you tell us to hold on...we'll tell you to hold on. We'll get back to you when you can finally make up your mind. That said...have ALL drink orders ready when we ask. Don't tell us each drink one at a time unless we tell you too and do not tell us your order only to turn around to your friends and ask what they want. I have other patrons in the bar ready with their order and I'll get to them if you're not ready.



Know what you drink. I'm glad you had a drink you loved on your last trip to Vegas. That bar sounds awesome but unless you know what was in that drink that bartender made you, I cannot duplicate it. I'm not a mind reader and I'm busy. Just because you said it was red and tasted great means nothing to me. Do you even realize how many great tasting red drinks I know? Know your poison! If you don't know whats in your drink you probably shouldn't be drinking it.



Tip, Tip, Tip. And I don't mean tell me to use an umbrella tomorrow. Tips are our wage. We provided a service. You provide the cash.

Don't ask for free shit. I made your drink with the correct amount of alcohol. If you want more, I will be glad to pour another shot but I will charge you for it and don't argue with me about it. I don't make money giving drinks away. That said...I don't care if your buddy gave you a free beer here last night. He's not me and what he does is his business. I have a family to provide for and can't afford to buy you a beer. That's why I'm working. If I didn't need the money, I'd be on the other side of this 3 foot slab of Mahogany with you. The only free thing I'll give you is water and that bowl of peanuts. Enjoy!

Know your limits. I understand you're having a good time but your drunken obnoxiousness is not amusing to me...unless you fall and smash your head into the floor. I'll be laughing my ass off then. And I don't enjoy cleaning your puke. Or waking your passed out ass up at closing time. Or fielding your phone calls about your lost shoe. I don't know where you tossed it. Oh and if you are too blitzed to drive...I will be taking possession of your car keys. You can have them back when you are sober.

I'm sure I'm leaving something out but at least you have an idea. Go to your favorite bar and have fun. Just remember Nobody Likes An Asshat!

Salem Witch Trials

I was checking out my blog today and on the sidebar is A Day In History. I love history so I like to read what it has for the day. Today's was the start of the Salem Witch Trial in the late 1600's.
The Salem witch trials were a series of hearings before local magistrates, and county court trials to prosecute people accused of witchcraft in Essex, Suffolk and Middlesex Counties of colonial Massachusetts, in 1692 and 1693. The hearings in 1692 were conducted in Salem Village, Ipswich, Andover and Salem Town, Massachusetts. The trials in 1692 were all held in Salem Town by the Court of Oyer and Terminer, with the Superior Court of Judicature hearing cases in 1693 in the individual county court seats: Salem Town, Ipswich, Boston, and Charlestown. Between February 1692 and May 1693, over 150 people were arrested and imprisoned, with even more accused who were not formally pursued by the authorities. The two courts convicted 29 people of the capital felony of witchcraft, 19 of whom (fourteen women, five men) were hanged. One other man, having refused to enter a plea, died under judicial torture to extract one from him, and at least five more of the accused died in prison. While not the first or only witch-hunt in New England or Europe, the sensational story of these particular individuals has secured its place in the cultural imagination of the United States of America.
One of Christianity's finer moments?

AHHH!!!

I have a migraine and the kids wont leave me alone. Calgone....why wont you take me away?

I'm Just A Bartender. That's All I Do.

For some reason people must not think too highly of servers or bartenders. My job is the only one I've ever had where people ask me all the time if I'm in school or if I'm JUST a bartender. I tell them that while I'm not in school anymore my oldest daughter is. They usually get this weird look on their face...you know that look you get when you see something so puzzling and strange that your face contorts to resemble an old, wrinkled man and your head tilts to the side....Yeah, that look! I then explain that I'm 30. I have 2 kids. One is 11 and the other is 2. I'm married. I own my house. I own my cars. I have bills and responsibilities. So umm, yeah...I'm not in school. When would I find the time? Who in the hell would even watch my little heathen children? Not saying that school isn't appealing to me. I want to go back to college so damn bad but unfortunately it's just not possible right now.

But why is it that my customers feel it's ok to ask me about my education. I know I'm blond but I'm far from stupid. Or is it that because I'm in the service industry that they feel "above" me. Believe me, I know my job isn't rocket science but it's not a morons position either. Alot of bartenders I know are extremely intelligent people. We kind of have to be to deal with drunk asses all day. I don't understand the need to pry into my personal life. I have repeated the question to a few customers who have asked it first. They looked totally shocked that I would ask such a thing. But again, they asked it first.

To answer that question....No I am not JUST a bartender. I am also a mother, a wife, a woman, a human, an American, a voter, an employee, a friend, a daughter, a granddaughter, a cousin, a sister, etc. I can't be singled out with just one label!

Chaos? What Chaos?

Meet Roxy. She's the newest member of the family. She's a 6 month old Golden Retriever puppy. As if we didn't have enough going on in our lives...we get a new puppy. But so far so good. We think she's housebroke now. Roxy has us trained to let her outside every 30 minutes or so otherwise she'll teach us a lesson and poop on the rug.

We are kennel training Roxy. It's going really well. Although there was a time when we weren't watching that Roxy trained Courtney how to aid in her escape. I was wondering how Roxy kept getting out.

Jack and Roxy get along great. For some reason I keep getting a feeling of a conspiracy and my yard has been re landscaped with all these lovely new holes. Oh yeah and someone has been pooping on the walkway at night when I'm in the garage doing laundry. I'm going to have to add lights to the backyard just so I don't pick up the doggy doo with my shoes anymore.

Roxy chases her tail all the time to entertain us all. It gives us a great laugh but I think she has ulterior motives. Usually after she chases her tail she either chooses to use one of the kids as a chew toy or she eats a shoe. Keelie has lost 2 pairs of shoes already. Keelie was ticked. Roxy was super happy and full.

Roxy helps us keep the yards clean. We have an elm tree that drops these seed ball thingies and they must taste great. Roxy eats them every chance she gets. She also is our little recycler. Aluminum cans have met their match. Bud light cans are her favorite. Must be a certain vintage I guess.

The kids are her own personal toy. No need for expensive dog toys. All you need are children.

See?!

Well I'm glad I was able to introduce you to Roxy. She really is darling. Now if I can only keep her off the kitchen table....

Over the hill...Where's the brakes?

I am almost thirty. How the heck did that happen? Last time I looked I was only 23. Now in less than a week I'll be the big 3-0! I never thought at thirty I'd still be bartending. Most people only bartend while going through college. Well I have news for you...I'm not even in college. I want to go back but really don't have the money to right now. I already know what I'll go for too. I want a masters in American and Womens History. Whoo Hoo! History! Can life be any more exciting? Just the thought makes me all tingly inside! Uhh... No I do not own a pocket protector! Why do you ask? Anyways, back to the dreaded b-day. I'll will spend it fully appreciating my dark little corner of my closet as I avoid the rest of the world. My husband has orders to slide food (Ok, Ok,... Vodka) under the door and to block the way from any little heathen children as they search for their mother. I'll have my ipod and a pillow to suppress the screams so I'll be good. I am sending the twenties out with a bang though. The old man and I are going to Reno, NV and will spend 2 days in a drunken bliss probably making fools of ourselves. Good thing though is that there usually are not a bunch of young'ens there to laugh too hard at us old folks. Bad thing is that it's snowing there right now. Snow makes for slippery conditions. Snow + alcohol = funny, painful situations and a chance to become a youtube celebrity.
Thirty can't be too bad right?

It's All Downhill From Here

Well my twenties are almost behind me. Soon they'll only be a fading memory of the past. I'm not exactly fond of thirty but I'm hoping it'll grow on me. I'm going to miss the twenties though. They were good to me. I can hope the thirties will be even better. So now that thirty is almost here...does that classify me as an old lady now? I remember in high school thinking thirty was sooooo old. Now it's here. I don't feel old....most days anyways. I'm leaving the twenties in Reno....probably at a bar.