So.
It's been a long time since I could think of anything worth writing about. Nothing worth making public, anyway, and certainly not anything that anyone I know has any interest in reading.

This weekend was a bit rough.

I had a good night on Friday and a heckuva hangover to prove it on Saturday. I know that if I wake up with a decent foghat, then I must have had a very good time. I got into at least two arguments with crazy gay guys on Friday night, which I love doing, especially when I am right and they have no argument to begin with.

Saturday was crazy busy, and we all had a great time. Everybody made money, and all of our customers were happy.

Well, except for one guy. I don't even consider him a customer, much less a human being. He is more like a fucking parasite. His name is Derrick, and I've been watching the guy for months. He mooches drinks off people because he's broke. Why is he broke? Well, he is a trust fund baby and spent $30K in one month on cocaine. That was a while back, but keep in mind that his parents cut him off. So anyway, he "knows" people who come to Dish. He introduces himself to people and somehow gets free drinks from them. I have watched him do this EVERY SINGLE DAY for the last year or so. I see him riding his bike as fast as he can, and then he parks the motherfucker in front of my restaurant, and for hours, I see him mooch drinks off of people, or even worse, sit down at an empty table and drink people's leftovers. Bus tub buffet, indeed.

So, I've been keeping track of him and wondering how in the hell he feels, every day of his life, knowing that he's used people for free booze. What a schmuck, right?

And when he doesn't have money (which is, like always), he drinks one beer ($3) and switches to Coke until he spots his next victim. It's not fun to watch. He's fucking pathetic. What a waste.

Back to Saturday night. He "knew" a couple of people here, and he sat at their table and ordered a martini, completely neglecting to relay to his server that his "friend" was buying his drink. At the end of the evening, the server came to me and said that Derrick couldn't pay his tab. A Grey Goose Martini costs $8.50. I noted that, earlier in the evening, the gentleman with whom Derrick was sitting earlier had paid up and gone home. Here's kinda what went down, almost verbatim:
I said, "Derrick, how are you gonna pay for that?"
His reply? "My friend was supposed to take care of my drinks."
Me: "Well, he's not here, and if you leave without paying Holt [the server] for that, then you're stealing from me, and if you don't tip him, then you're stealing from him, so you better pay for that, and do it ASAP because we're closing."
D: "You can try my credit cards, but they won't work."
Me: "Then why do you carry them around if you can't pay for shit with them? Why the fuck would you walk around with maxed-out credit cards? Do they remind you of the good old days?"
D: "C'mon, man, he was supposed to buy my drinks. I can come back and pay tomorrow."
Me: "We don't carry tabs over to the next day, and I know for fucking sure that you are not coming back to pay that fucking tab, and you know it too."
Holt: "I'm not paying for your drinks either, dude, so don't even look at me like that."
Me: "By the way Derrick, I've been watching your ass for months, and I fucking know your game, so pay for your purchase and get the fuck out of my restaurant and don't you come back here anymore."
In the meantime I got the security guy on him and asked him to not let Derrick out of his sight. I heard Derrick mumble something about being arrested, but I was so irate at that point that I ignored the remark. It was too late to turn back, if you know what I mean...
I then witnessed a frantic scramble. Derrick was going up to complete strangers, our regular customers, and asking them if they could spot him the cash to pay his bill! I followed him to at least 5 people. People I like and know very well, like Kevin, who was his last chance. I went up to Kevin and said "Don't you do that. Do not pay for his shit." He said "Okay?!" Awesome. He thanked me later. He has no idea whom Derrick is.
Then I got in Derrick's face.
Me: "I'm going to erase that drink from Holt's tabs, and for the last fucking time, if you cannot pay for shit, then do not order it. If that guy was your friend, he would have let the server know that he was going to take care of you. You didn't tell the server that your "friend" was buying your drinks because you thought that you could just tack it onto his tab because he was at a large table and you didn't think he'd notice an extra drink on the bill. I am not stupid. I saw it from the start, and you know what you did was wrong as fuck. If you win the lottery, I still don't want to see your face in this fucking bar again. You can't pay for shit, and you never have been able to, and you can't tip for shit either, even when you had money, so get the fuck out of here and don't come back. I have been watching you, and I'm tired of you stressing my servers out, and I'm tired of stressing out over some puny scum like you, so I don't want to see your fucking face near this place again. Get the fuck out of here and don't you ever step foot in this motherfucker again. You hear me? I WILL have you arrested for trespassing. Get out! Now go!"

And that was that. I had a couple of shots to celebrate my victory.

On Sunday, I fired someone for the first time. It was very difficult because I like this person, but she is obviously not a good fit for our restaurant. If you can't make it to work, then you don't have a job. Period. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Lay off the coke and Xanax and get your shit together. Leaving me a message about your car is not, in effect, speaking directly to me , and therefore you are not excused for the evening. Add to that: walking out in your job, getting sent home for being coked up, missing a meeting, and disappearing to flit about the neighborhood to find coke, and selling bags of coke across the table in full view of a full restaurant. Too many chances, I guess. Nothing gets past me anymore. Maybe I'm jaded or my senses are set at an alarmingly high level. I don't know, but I AM NOT TAKING SHIT FROM PEOPLE ANYMORE. Get the fuck out of my face with your bullcrap. I don't need it.

Ohh-kay. Eventful? You bet. Stressful? Sure.

Ahh, my weekend in a nutshell. Anyone want to go skydiving or something?

Wow.

Larry Craig had sex with this guy.

I don't know what I am doing this weekend, but I'm sure that there will be some trouble involved. I might get down to E & H Friday nite to see Mr. Hartley and Evil, but who knows?

Gulp.

Paul, just stop it. Please.

Here's another example of douchetudinosis.

I hate it. Should I call this restaurant and tell them what this guy is doing for their business? Probably not because it is really not my place to say. But I know that when restaurants give discounts of any kind, they still have to pay taxes on the full amount of the cost of the food and beverages included in such discounts. At the end of each year, the sum of all those discounts has to be accounted for and a tax is levied against the monies "saved" by the discount seekers. So restaurants lose money when they offer discounts, and the IRS wins a fee (however small it might or might not be), and Ryburn is a douche.

Anyway, I had a great weekend. I rocked out at the Black Crowes show on Saturday with Evil, Tricia, and Clay. I got myself a little bit on the tipsy side. Well, a lot on the tipsy. Sorry if I said things I shouldn't have, and sorry for being incoherent to anyone I called or texted. It crept up on me fast, and I should have paced myself. I did, however, make off with the Black Jesus statue from EP's, so stay tuned for pics and updates from me and the Jesus.

Okay. I owe this one to Evil. You're welcome.

Ahh, Ryburn. I swear.
The fun never stops with this guy. Hey, if you want free Wendy's, GO HERE. I don't know about the rest of you, but I really don't think that I want to eat free Wendy's at Court Square EVER. Think about it. It's Wendy's. Albeit free, the idea frankly scares the bejeezus out of me. The only draw is the potential to have a contributing video for the Bum Fights Series. Moreover, it would seem to me (and all of you slightly bright stars out there) that because his hatred of panhandlers and bums is so flagrantly expressed, day in and day out, he would have a FUCKING FIELD DAY, snapping photos of the needy getting their Double-Stack on. I think he's definitely got a vendetta, and by publishing it on his blog, has given his readers this: "Hey, guys, wanna see some panhandling on the real tip? Come to Court Square tomorrow, where they will be giving out FREE Wendy's burgers during prime lunch time, and we can really get pissed at the fact that free food draws the needy and greedy less fortunate! Remember when David Gest gave out free Thanksgiving meals a couple of years ago? Well he ain't got shit on this episode. After we watch the debacle and I take about a million pics of bums with my digicam, we can go to the Saucer and drink $2.50 pints of beer and have a circle jerk! Yay! All my hard work will finally pay off tomorrow! I have the BEST BLOG EVER!!!"

See what I'm getting at here? I mean, even my boyfriend and I call Court Square "Bum Park". Sure, it's pretty and it has a fountain and sometimes bands play there, but sometimes it's scary, like when bums follow you from one side to the other because you've got a cigarette in your hand or because you are smiling back at them (because you really don't want to piss off a crazy, homeless, schizophrenic, hot-tempered homeless person--it couldn't be that you're smiling because you're a nice girl)...C'mon, guys, Paul is making this way too easy for us. This thing tomorrow will be like shooting fish in a bucket for Ryburn. I would go just to see Paul get a Bum-Boner. It's probably tiny. Feel free to pass this on to your friends.

I feel good about it

The Achievers finally reaped the oh-so-good feeling of winning last night! YAAAAY! We kicked ass, 8-5, against the Grass Kickers. A relatively new team, the Grass Kickers played with heart. But not as much as the Achievers. They were a little bitchy (I swear I was gonna kick this one blonde girl in her box) and unorganized, and their defense and knowledge of the rules definitely could use some work and research. It is their first season, and while we should have expected them to not have the great sportsmanship and skill that we have and love to show off, I, for one, didn't expect them to be such dicks about our responses to their blatant disregard of the RULES OF KICKBALL. For the last time, readers and players, BROOKE WAS SAFE! I knew something was in the air, whispering, "WINNER" all day to me. I felt so confident leaving the house and knowing that I wouldn't come home to tell Chris "The usual" when asked about how the game went. The celebratory beers and Jager and Rumple tasted so much better after our sweet victory.
All in all it was a fun time, and I must say CONGRATULATIONS to a team that I am SO SO PROUD to be a part of! Thanks to all of you for playing so well and being a part of something GREAT, something with pizazz, that is the Little Lebowski's Urban Achievers! I love you all!

Now for some douchetude. If you randomly peruse the Ryburn blog, you can come across gems like this and think, either aloud or to yourself, that this guy is FUCKING INCREDIBLE.
Hey, Paul, if your friends got married in Israel, then they're probably Jewish. And if they're Jews who got married in Israel, then they are probably the ones who eat Kosher foods (you know, foods blessed by the Rabbi and not contaminated by mixing meat with dairy and all that), and if that is the case, THEN THEY DON'T EAT AT FUCKING SONIC AND CERTAINLY DON'T NEED YOUR CRAPPY SONIC GIFT CARDS FOR A WEDDING PRESENT! How cheap. They must think that you really care about them and are totally aware of their dietary needs and would be sensitive to their religious affiliations and what they entail. Like not eating Sonic because it isn't Kosher. I have never heard of Kosher fast food. I have heard of Organic "Slim Jim" (yes, they exist, snap into one) and I know that Soft Batch Cookies and Twinkies are Vegan, but Sonic? Kosher? You douche.
I'm not being overly sensitive here. Just the fact that I picked a random blog to view--thinking that they can't all be that bad, only to find out that yes, Audra, they are--makes me very, very sad. Every day, every month, every year, there is a flagrant display of douchitosis that is this guy's blog. How can it be that this guy, who scans newspapers for Sonic Gift Cards to give to his friends as wedding gifts, is the winner of "Best Blog"? Can people not see through this crap that he is a cheap douchebag? I don't know, either.

Well, is it fall or August?

I can't figure out what size font to use. It's kinda pissing me off. I'll try "small". I know I like Verdana, so I'll stick with that.
So, Evil and I (and a lot of few other people) are hating on Paul Ryburn right now. Here's
one reason why he sucks and you can read the rest on his blog. WHICH SUCKS.

Seems he has a reason to dis on Spindini. Check out his 4/20/2007 post. You'll see what I mean. You can't possibly take this guy seriously. He likes the freebies. He likes the Saucer girls (I was one once, and it's creepy). He likes the freebies. And he won "Best Blog" in the "Best of Memphis" poll in the Memphis Flyer this year. He used to go to 6-1-6 in a pimp costume and he tried to pick up 17 year-old girls, for CRYING OUT LOUD! My best friend was one of those 17 year-old girls, drinking beer underage, having a grand old time, and he hit on her (GROSS!); a couple years later, he was her COMP 1200 instructor.
Why do people kiss his ass?! That's kinda like kissing Frederick Koeppel's ass. It's really not gonna do you any good. He might be a regular guy, but he can take you and your livelihood down with one keystroke.
The thing is, I don't think Ryburn is a regular guy. Koeppel is actually a REALLY nice guy. He doesn't expect special treatment. He wants to eat and that's that. I would write about what I think Ryburn does in his spare time, but it could get me into trouble. I think he needs to get a life, take some Milk Thistle, and stop jerking off to his drunken, midnight vision of the skirt-clad Saucer girls.

Here's to you, Fockers

I know we can do it. We can kick ass tonight. We will kick ass tonight.

The Achievers have a mission to blow away the competition this evening at 8:30.

We heard that the Fockers beat their opposing team 25-2 last week. That will not happen tonight. While I am a bit apprehensive because the Albrittens will not be with us, I am STOKED to play 2nd base in KT's spot. I like being pitcher and all, but I am thankful for the opportunity to show off my skills somewhere else on the field. Thank you, Winston and Evil.

Now, I have to find something to wear to the Memphis Flyer's "Best of Memphis" Awards Ceremony. My precious little gay bar got nominated for more categories than did any other restaurant--including "Best Gay Bar"--and we won like 6 awards. So I have to pretty myself up and wear something representative of my fabulous restaurant. I can't look all dyke-y, but I have to be practical because I'm gonna have to do a quick change before the game (did I mention we are gonna KICK ASS tonight?). Sometimes, I hate being a girl because of dilemmas like this. Short notice, look nice (although my boss did suggest wearing my xXx kickball uniform), be there at 6, you can stay for an hour [there will be some booze], just go and represent this place ... FUCK!

I just hope that I grab all my loot before 7:30. I don't want Evil to have a heart attack. I think he may have just had a seizure after the text I sent.

I better get going. It's a great day, and I'm wasting time. Fuck the Fockers, soooie-pig!

It's the weekend, baby

Well, waht are you going to do with yourself?

I think that's funny. If anyone can decipher that crap, I will call you a loser to your face.
Anyway, it's the weekend. I'm not sure what my plans are. The BF is going to his 20-year high school reunion in Chicago, so I'll be on my own for the next three days. I might stalk my good pal Evil (I know where to find you, man) tonight after I get the fuck away from Midtown and the GoNerds. Those kids kill me. Skinny jeans, slacker beards, ironic moustaches, tight shirts, striped shirts, moobs, dirty shoes, zip-up boots, B.O...oh, and cases and cases of empty PBR and High Life cans that they leave all over the backside and alley of my precious little gay bar.
They are just too cool.
Fucking punks think they own this town.
Anyway, cheers! Have a good weekend, be safe, and have fun achieving greatness.

ACID

Do not drop acid at a bar. It will freak you out. And it will freak other people out. It is not fun for anyone involved. Nobody wants to babysit you. Or clean up your puke. Not to mention the fact that you should not drink alcohol while on acid. Or look in mirrors. I'm just saying...
Plus, when did acid become popular again?