Yet another night at the pub. You know you love bullet points.
- We discovered a bartender who mysteriously charged everything at half-price, and decided he was our favourite bartender in all the land. I waved my money and yelled at him like I was at a Manpower show.
- The muso, who I recognised from my Every Week Without Fail pub days a few years ago, seemed to remember me too (or did a bloody good job of pretending) and I asked him if he still gave lessons, seeing as I'm sick of sitting at the same bloody level year after year and never making the effort to improve. He said no, and when I offered to pay him he said that he won't officially give lessons but if I buy a bottle of wine and give him a call, he'll come over and show me a few things. And am I right, and quite astute, in thinking that he is referring to his penis? Or am I the queen of misinterpretation?
- A red spotty top, which cost me $49.95 (and I'm a stingy bitch who only pays more than $30 if I really, really like something), suddenly developed a gaping hole in the back, near where the sleeve bit connects. And I sat there for ages, with a gigantic hole in my shirt, probably looking very unfashionable and dero-esque and like I should be in the gutter with a tallie in a brown paper bag rather than in a pub sipping half-price cocktails, until it was pointed out to me and I took it off. I was fortunately wearing a singlet underneath, you see, though it was fun to imply that I took my top off in a pub, perhaps provoking all sorts of Dirty Whore mental imagery. Should I take it back to the shop, even though I have removed all tags and it's been worn and it's been longer than 14 days since I bought it, purely because a hole appeared for no reason after wearing it for the first time?
- As my best mate and I stumbled off down the road, hand in hand, a girl leaned out of a passing car and screamed "WHOOOO! LESBIANS!"
- I neglected to mention that the red spotty top now also smells like it's been used to wipe out ashtrays and mop up stale beer. I'm not getting my money back, am I?
posted by GBE at 6:49 pm
10 Comments:
You're so not getting your money back. Invest in a needle and thread instead.
As for drunk, crazy fuckers who talk to you in pubs, i give off that vibe too. I'm told i smile too much and shouldn't make eye contact....either that or it is some weird arse vibe that lets everyone know we're freaky like them :P
I don't even make eye contact - I'm not even a pretty young thing and I still get approached by the weirdest, freakiest gits. Also, for some reason, I am an Indian magnet - if there's one Indian dude in the place, even if he's a hundred, ugly as sin and toothless, he'll approach me. Never the young attractive ones though. Never even the attractive ones. Actually, old men have always rather liked me - it disturbs me no end.
It's alcohol. It makes all men think their witty,charming and kind of like Sean Connery's James Bond. Also it makes them think their invulnerable and immortal. Hence the large amount of men on Friday nights slurring over strange women and picking fights with the bouncers.
Its nothing to do any with 'weid vibes' it's just being men being fuckers. Travel in packs and always keep a friend around who's got a sharp mouth.
You can actually meet nice, normal people in pubs?
Where the fuck are you hanging out?!?
I'd go for a gentle hand wash, and take it back and say it fell apart in the wash.
If you mention it ripped when you were waving money at a bartender, they might not be so helpful, and if you wash it it won't smell like a pub. Lots of clothes fall apart in the wash, just make sure you tell them you'e washed it according to the care instructions.
a) any girl with a hole in her top is obviously a skanky derro
b) Normal Nice People are at home mending their tops
It's because you're weird. In the very best way. And old guys seem to like weird young girls. It's because:
a) they are still young, nubile and flexible
b) there's just something about some girls that screams "I would be REALLY interesting to talk to"
I don't know. It sounds wanky but I really do think approachable people are more interesting anyway because they're open to conversation with all types. And then that gets projected etc etc.
Plus, you're a complete fox with a kooky sense of humour. What's not to love for a strange dirty old drunk? Girls like this epitomise the idea of the wenchy barmaid with a dirty mouth and a heart of gold, and that kind of girl is a drunk's best friend. Why do you think everyone has the horn for Rosmerta in Harry Potter?
With the wash, trust me, you can get your money back, especially if you bought it from Myer. Even if you didn't, find out if they sell that brand at Myer and return it. Even if you've taken the tags off, do as delightful jen says and gently hand wash it. Then all you have to do is either say it ripped in the wash or it ripped the first time you wore it. Be super nice, but firm, like the wenchy barmaid you are.
Hi ya,
I think women get stuck with all these men in pubs, because most f the male population is os fucked up, and unable to express (maybe even admit, or even feel) their feelings, they have to get shit-faced, mind numbingly drunk before they have the balls to approach a woman. And by that time, all the alcohol they have consumed, makes them thin that they are friggin Brad Pitt and that you want them, and want them bad! And even if they cant speak, and their breath stinks like an old garbage can thats been filled with cigs and beer, you are going to get your kit off for them.
Just a thought. Even though I am a man, I find them to be an incredible stupid species.
Steph, funny you should say it because I had a needle in my hand just as I read your comment. In my hand as in between my fingers - not stabbed through my hand, or anything. Yep, reading and sewing at the same time. Yep, dodgy. I never make eye contact with the crazy bastards, so it can't be that. And I smile, but not at them. Unless they convince themselves that I do. Which is possible.
Nails, me too - if they're over 50 and crusty, then I'm exactly their cup of tea. I don't think I get the Indian thing though. Just the drunk Australian yobbos for me. Hurrah.
Cup of tea! Pun!
Nabodig, I hear ya, but I was just sort of hoping that normal people go out too. Or should I stop going to pubs, and start going to, you know, 'functions'?
Phishez, well, you see, I was sort of thinking that I'm a reasonably nice person, if you don't look at me squint, and though I'm not the most normal beer in the carton I was sort of thinking that if I'm a nice person who goes to pubs, then maybe there's other nice people who go to pubs?
Jen, the only thing is that it's the flimsiest piece of shit in the whole world, and the care instructions say 'DRY CLEAN ONLY'. Because it's on a seam I used my Grade 6 sewing skills to patch it up and it looks ok now. Though I'm scared to wear it in case it rips like a wench's bodice again.
Mark, I knew it! Nobody likes a drunkard with a hole in her top. I have so much to learn.
Audrey, my dear, thank you muchly for referring to me as a fox, despite that photo on the right which makes my knees look MASSIVE. Seriously, why do I keep a photo showing me with such massive knees? I guess I just wish the nice people who didn't spit a saliva/beer mix all over me when they spoke would think I was interesting, too. I'm not sure they exist. If it was Myer, I would've tried it, but it's a little one-off boutiquey-type shop and I've already got the needle and thread out on the bastard. I'm going to put it on and wave my arms around furiously to see if it rips again. I appear to have forgotten how paragraphs work.
Jason, you're right, there's quite a few men who seem to think that saying 'nice rack' and drooling on a girl means that they're going to get lucky. They've all graduated from The Derelict's School Of How To Pick Up The Ladies.
Yes, you definitely do fit the 'nice' portion. But are you normal? I mean really normal?
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