Robot Cashier Drink

Everyone can rejoice now when visiting their local supermarket. Instead of waiting for inept teenagers to ring your items in, now you can wait for inept customers to do it! While I'm less likely to get owly with a biker ham-handedly jamming his club card number in than the pimply 18 year old who used to run the till, I still believe that the level of frustration can be the same, if not greater. With the till we were corralled down these corridors between US magazine and a wall of  candy bars and that twilight zone between the impulse gum and the horoscope scrolls is the point of no return. These self-checkouts are set up, usually in groups of four, two facing two, often with little or NO SUPERVISION! Can we be trusted? No, for one cashier hovers around on standby waiting for frustration levels to rise enough that she comes to help us, but for that, we're on our own out here. There is a soothing female voice that lets you and everyone else know that you have an UNIDENTIFIED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA and to PLEASE REMOVE it, as well as offering you the obligatory pleasantries such as "please" and "thank you". (They grasp the concept of gratitude?) I guess my main problem with these tills is actually that jobs have been replaced by machines, save for the mother hen standby cashier, who was obviously the one cashier with the most seniority of the 4 who got canned in order to make way for the rise of the machines. She says hello and has a smile on, but as she probably prepared for these tills to arrive on the scene, perhaps I should ignore her completely in preparation for her inevitable departure. It would be incredibly rude however, and may result in an UNIDENTIFIED ITEM IN MY BAGGING AREA. This whole situation begs the question, who's head do I have to beat my 7-digit club card number into after buying the ingredients to Ol' Tone's Po' Boy Goulash to gedda drink around here?

Bartender of the Week drink

Steve "Young Man" McLeod - Shark Club Langley - Sept. 26th


For the first bartender of the week, I gotta go with my own home bar and a mate that knows how to slang a drink. This cool as a cucumber bottle jockey is quick with a joke, or a light of your smoke and gets me my drinks for free. He's got deft hand for the mixed drinks and a seventh sense about when your brew is low. A sly wit, an eye for the ladies, (especially his  own) and a disdain for middle management puts Young Man in first place. Show up, test his mettle and his almost encyclopedic knowledge of movie lines... www.sharkclubs.com

Eugene Mow at Central City Brew Pub in Surrey - Runner Up.

Stop by an wish old Euge congratulations on his recent marriage to local beauty/celebrity Tash Busch. Whatta team these two make. Eugene runs the bar here at Central with a certain panache not found in your run of the mill local pub. Quick with a kind word and a devillish grin, its always a pleasure being served at Mow's Tavern...

www.centralcitybrewing.com

Some of us DID have to work this weekend... Here are a few pics of the friends and festivities...

Dustin Cross Drink

I met Dustin Cross down at the Sheraton Wall Center for drinks with the rest of his real estate team. Its funny how much you forget. I haven't seen Dustin in 19 years, but we picked up right where we left off. Telling stupid jokes and making each other piss ourselves laughing... Dusty and I used to chill in his room reading Mad Magazines for hours on end, howling with laughter. We hadda few brews at the hotel lounge, then fucked off to this little Irish pub down Burrard a few blocks. He gave me a lowdown on what had been goin on in Regina since I'd left, and I told him the shit that I've been up to. All in all it was a fucking fantastic night with an old buddy that I didn't realize how much I'd missed. There was a time in my youth that Ol' Dusty D and I were rarely apart. I considered him one of my solid friends back then, when solid friends were tough to come by, and I feel the same now. The only bummer of the evening was that my camera died, so all I had was my shitty cell phone camera. I got one pic anyway. If there is any one reason to head back to Regina for my 20 year reunion, Its to see Dustin... Thanks for the memories man! NO DICE! So my question is this... What old buddy do I have to sit around, get drunk and have non-stop laughs with to gedda drink around here?

Shut Your Fucking Mouth Drink

I cannot stand it when I am being introduced to the staff of a new job and the boss/manager/acting assistant to the traveling secretary says, "We work hard. We play hard." Really. Oh, this sounds like a place I wanna work. That doesn't mean anything. Work hard? I don't have a colege education! I'll make do! Its not a fucking salt mine for god's sake. And play hard. You wanna play hard, come out with me and the Miserable Bastards on a Wednesday night! For openers, pal, your staff doesn't even like you. Sure they get together, but you aren't invited. You are stuck in that manager/buddy delusional twilight zone. If one or more of your employees has a bang on impression of you, you are not well liked...  Work hard/play hard my ass. I must have heard it about 20 times. 'Course, I've had a lot of jobs. None of them were going anywhere though. So I ask you, what middle management do I have to be the thorn in the side of to gedda drink around here?

High School Buddy Drink

Gonna meet the one and only Dustin Cross, an old high school buddy. Its been 19 years. We'll be downtown at some low-rent dump havin a few drinks. Pics to follow... 'Til then I'm gonna do the usual Thursday thing. Hang out outside the courthouse shouting, "A man is DEAD! What are you gonna DO about it?", at whoever walks out the door... Who do I have to saddle with crippling guilt to gedda drink around here?

Ex girlfriend drink (part 2)

Well, I got what I SUPPOSE were the rest of the goods back. A serious tug-of-war over something that could have been solved ages ago. My question is this. Who do I have to be glad I never had a kid with to gedda drink around here?

Ex girlfriend drink (part 1)

Months ago, after being unceremoniously kicked out of the place I shared with my girlfriend, her 2 kids AND her mother, I was on the hunt for a new crib. Single again, I would begin anew and  would buy all the things I'd left behind. Anything is replaceable... With the exception of about 6 or 7 THOUSAND pieces of LEGO that had been in my family since, like, the seventies. I realize my older brother has a one year old that would love these in a few years. I cannot face the slings and arrows of my family members when they find out that the LEGOS are gone, especially to a young lady they were none too fond of. Not a chance.  I call her, no answer. Leave message. No response. I finally show up to her work. "Sorry, I've been busy...", she mutters. I tell her I need them back ASAP, and I need her to separate MY LEGOS from her sons LEGO. Since I'd lived with them, about 2 years, he has collected maybe 3 sets of LEGOS. Batman and stuff. Not old school LEGO. We know the difference. Well, she won't have time! I tell her to take care of it and then, in a moment of weakness, I say, "Take 2 months. Sept. 20th I'll be by to pick up the LEGOS and any other stuff I left behind." Now, 2 months is a long time. Lots of LEGOS though. Shouldn't be a big problem. Sept. 20th rolls around. She has 2 kids, whom I love dearly, a mom and a new boyfriend. You can either choose to have these people there, or not have them there on the 20th. Easier for everyone if its just you and me, right? Nope. Its better for her to have everyone there. No worries. Ol' Tone handles it like a champ and shakes the new guys hand. Accepts hugs and kisses from said kids. A hello and a smile from the mom. Dog licks face. Clearly I was an unconscionable BASTARD when I lived here. ANYWAY, the ex and I joke around while the kids try (and succeed!) to impress me with new moves they've learned since I've been gone. Cartwheels, jumping on one foot, somersaults, you know. Well. Adios. I tell the kids that I miss them, and they respond the same way. I'm off. I am home and I go through the stuff and the LEGOS I get back are pictured. Seriously. about 800 pieces. I know they are toys, people. I know people have lost Zillions of dollars in divorces and all that. Its just that these belong to MY family, not hers. I call her up and she proceeds to tell me that she forgot to do it until last night, at which point she got her son to do it. She then acts as if the whole thing is a joke and for me to relax. I tell her that I will come and take ALL the LEGOS,  regardless of who they belong to, if she is gonna screw around. She says she'll have em ready by Tuesday. We shall see. My question is this, people. Who do I hafta not  screw around on but  just get so incredibly bored and disgusted with fucking so she THINKS I'm cheating and will wonder  why I never come to bed at night and when we DO have sex, I fake a few orgasms (no, it wasn't just the one she caught me faking) with to gedda drink around here?

Whose close relative or best friend's head do I have to shave a few lines from the script of "The Untouchables" into to gedda drink around here?

Whose address do I have to mail seven of ten of his own fingers to after cutting them off with my moms pinking shears before dragging him bleeding through South London streets, finally cauterizing the wounds with the dash lighter from a Ford Econoline, slap him in the face, bundle him up nicely so he doesn't catch a cold on the way to the airport, get him a one way back to his hometown of Cleveland where I've placed nude photos of his girlfriend around his crummy one bedroom apartment to gedda drink around here?

Gedda Drink

Who do I have to screw to gedda drink around here?