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Tuesday, April 16, 2002
Sorry DJ, there isn't a whole more to report on that front. Two kids came into the bar and wanted to see the band. I asked for ID's and the first one gave me the biggest eye-roll in the world. Like he couldn't believe that I was actually carding him. You know what? When you look 12 you should be used to it. Come to find out he turned 21 in Janurary. SORRY ASSHOLE! I most have missed that tattoo on your forehead that says your 21. Jackass. Anyway, the other guy he was with politely handed over his ID and turns out he was born in '77. So I look at the asshole, and tell the nice guy that I bought his drink. "Why?" "'Cause you didn't roll your eyes at me like that asshole (while I point to the asshole)." Well, the asshole doesn't take this too well and gives me this "what-the-hell" look, but he could tell by my ghetto-fabulous head weave that I was not someone to be messed with.
So they walk to the front of the "stage" at the P and watch the band, when all of the sudden, one of the cousins of Cousin Peabody comes up and tells me that someone has "10 seconds to live". I say, "OK, calm down, turn you visor around and put it on the right way and tell me what's going on." Well sure as shit, there sits the asshole spitting on the band. Just sitting there, getting a good mouthfull, looking/aiming at the band and spitting. Yeah! Ejection! Went up to him, "lightly" grabbed him by the arm and told him to get the fuck out of my bar or I will end you. (Not really those words exactly. The "f" word was used quite a few more times than that.) Then I went back behind the bar, and had a shot. Bring it on punk.
I guess there was a bit more there than I thought. That's all for now. Back to the books.
Craig @ 9:41 AM
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