ode to a one-hit wonder (a haiku).

31 Aug

Thanks, Semisonic.

The DJ played Closing Time

Now I can go home.

Except tonight, because the amateur DJ who I had spinning his iPad in the coat closet apparently didn’t get the memo that when a DJ plays “Closing Time” it means that it’s time to finish your whiskey and beer and get the hell out of the establishment. Because he followed it up with fucking “Tubthumping” by fucking Chumbawumba to an entirely empty bar save his three friends. So like how do I nicely tell this dude that when the bar is empty, you play “Closing Time” and when you play “Closing Time” you don’t put on any more songs. Especially ones about puking and then continuing to drink.

Other highlights of my day:

  • My friend came in for lunch with his little kids and they asked me to take them to the bathroom so they could go poopy, so I sat in the bathroom washing the 3-year-old’s hands like 45 times in a row while the 7-year-old took his shoes off to sit on the potty.
  • I started working on a deal with the massage place across the street to give rubdowns away as prizes for Trivia Night. So we can officially be the only place in town offering the chance to win a happy ending or an order of nachos.
  • This crackhead bartender we had working for us like 5 years ago called to ask if she had a paycheck waiting for her. “Yeah, it’s just an envelope full of cash,” I told her. “I can either leave it for you or just trade it in for cocaine so you don’t have to do the extra work.”
  • I went to my shrink where we talked about good movies, Jimmy Buffet and why I’m weird for not enjoying gambling. Really feel like I made some progress.
  • My bartender TOLD ME THE ENDING TO THE “PRETTY LITTLE LIARS” SEASON FINALE BEFORE I GOT TO WATCH IT. I know we’ve discussed spoilers in the past, but that was about the Olympics, not ABC Family shows. That shit wasn’t right. I nearly poured a pitcher of margaritas on her head but I was running low on triple sec.

Tomorrow maybe I’ll write again, we can discuss how much Labor Day weekend sucks when you’re in the restaurant business because you have to work even though clearly nobody is going to eat anyplace where there isn’t a late summer breeze caressing their shoulders.


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