The Cabaret was pretty alright.
But I don’t know why the fuck I keep going back to The Crocodile. I suppose because it’s thoughtless. It’s become a go to spot eventhough I don’t want it to be and there are far better places within greater proximity. It’s become like a shitty booty call that always leaves me unsatisfied when it’s over. But then again, maybe it is in fact satisfying, since I don’t want to go there anymore when I leave.
Kevin “Yogen Fruz” Wndr said he would buy a round after two back-to-back nights of me flipping the bill. After ordering and the bartender informing him that there was a $15 minimum on cards, he deferred to my Bank of America checking account.
We only got two cans of P.B.R. before we decided to leave, so I was left with $8 that needed to be spent before I could get my card back. I told The Crocodile bartender to wow me. $8 + tip for him to go nuts. Anything he wanted to make me, as long as it didn’t involve gin. What I imagine would be a bartender’s ideal drink request after a night of popping the tops on domestic tall boys. So what did I get for $8? What concoction of spirited delights did the imaginative bartender come up with for me to imbibe? A shot of Jameson’s mixed with about 10oz of soda water.
I should have thrown the drink in the fucker’s face.
I don’t understand why you would become a bartender if that was the best you could do. I mean, it’s not like you’re a janitor. Bartender is probably the second oldest profession, and it’s highly sought after by males in their 20s to 30s. Yes, your earning potential peaks about 20-days into the job, but you’re respected. And I’ve always surmised that it’s a position that draws in a significant amount of tail. I mean, girls are paying you to get them drunk. If I were to associate a numerical figure with the percentage of all the girls I’ve ever had any sort of physical romantic encounter with who were drunk at the time, it would probably be just over 100%.
Plus even in 2010, thousands of years after the invention of booze, people are still exploring unchartered territory with libations. Open the NY Times on any given Wednesday (or is it Sunday?) and there will be a new cocktail that was just invented. And that’s been every Wednesday (possibly Sunday) for the last 50-years. This shit breather couldn’t have searched the archives and made one of those? For fuck sakes, 2-ingredients isn’t even technically a cocktail.
Yelp is going to hear about this.
But I don’t know why the fuck I keep going back to The Crocodile. I suppose because it’s thoughtless. It’s become a go to spot eventhough I don’t want it to be and there are far better places within greater proximity. It’s become like a shitty booty call that always leaves me unsatisfied when it’s over. But then again, maybe it is in fact satisfying, since I don’t want to go there anymore when I leave.
Kevin “Yogen Fruz” Wndr said he would buy a round after two back-to-back nights of me flipping the bill. After ordering and the bartender informing him that there was a $15 minimum on cards, he deferred to my Bank of America checking account.
We only got two cans of P.B.R. before we decided to leave, so I was left with $8 that needed to be spent before I could get my card back. I told The Crocodile bartender to wow me. $8 + tip for him to go nuts. Anything he wanted to make me, as long as it didn’t involve gin. What I imagine would be a bartender’s ideal drink request after a night of popping the tops on domestic tall boys. So what did I get for $8? What concoction of spirited delights did the imaginative bartender come up with for me to imbibe? A shot of Jameson’s mixed with about 10oz of soda water.
I should have thrown the drink in the fucker’s face.
I don’t understand why you would become a bartender if that was the best you could do. I mean, it’s not like you’re a janitor. Bartender is probably the second oldest profession, and it’s highly sought after by males in their 20s to 30s. Yes, your earning potential peaks about 20-days into the job, but you’re respected. And I’ve always surmised that it’s a position that draws in a significant amount of tail. I mean, girls are paying you to get them drunk. If I were to associate a numerical figure with the percentage of all the girls I’ve ever had any sort of physical romantic encounter with who were drunk at the time, it would probably be just over 100%.
Plus even in 2010, thousands of years after the invention of booze, people are still exploring unchartered territory with libations. Open the NY Times on any given Wednesday (or is it Sunday?) and there will be a new cocktail that was just invented. And that’s been every Wednesday (possibly Sunday) for the last 50-years. This shit breather couldn’t have searched the archives and made one of those? For fuck sakes, 2-ingredients isn’t even technically a cocktail.
Yelp is going to hear about this.
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