PART ONE - in which everything started normally.
CUNTZILLA! married Trashy McCheapAss on a dark and stormy Saturday.

The reception started about an hour behind schedule, and innocuously enough. The bartenders began the night on a high note, making fortresses out of cups:


...and having way too much fun laughing at the ridiculously dressed wedding party. They even shared a secret or two. Employee Bonding 101. They were able to take their dinner breaks together (ten pound burritos from the wonderful Burrachos). The most pressing question was whether or not they would recover from their burrito-eating contest (both felt like crap after cramming ten pound burritos into their empty systems). There was a murmur going through the hotel about flooding in the area due to the severe storms that were popping up out of nowhere, but the bartenders couldn't be bothered -- they were having too much fun. "It's going to be a good one tonight, I can feel it," Heroine A said to Hero B, seemingly sealing their fate.

PART TWO - in which the shit began to fly.
The whirlwind grew out of nothingness. Bud Lite? No problem. Two 7 and 7s? Sure! Three brandy Old Fashioneds? Alright. Five Bloody Marys, a Sex on the Beach, two Jäg bombs, and four beers? Uh... okay! Oh, exact change? Bitch. How about SIXTEEN Jäg bombs, otherwise known as $80 worth of liquor? Exact fucking change????? Christ Almighty. Apparently complimenting the hell out of the drinks ("This is the best Bloody Mary this side of the Mississippi!!" "Ohmigod, this chick makes the best Sex on the Beach I've ever had!") is an appropriate substitute for a tip -- evidently the drinks weren't good enough to even get a measly quarter slide.

The bartenders caught each others' eye and noticed that the last time they'd really spoken to each other was two hours prior, and neither had emptied the suspiciously hollow tip jars. Things were not looking good, and the attitudes of our heroes were plummeting quickly. Trashy McCheapAss and the Amazingly Drunk Groomsmen were certainly not helping things, as they were whining about the price of everything and then apologizing for their lack of tips. It grew to be so that the bartenders were so aggravated that they fell completely silent, communicating through nods, points, and gestures, slamming the cooler doors shut and nearly throwing the bottles of alcohol around.

And then everything stopped.

The bartenders felt slightly uneasy. "I got a bad feeling about this," Hero B said to Heroine A, Han Solo-style. They leaned against the counter, arms folded in unison, bracing themselves for another round that seemed to never come. Outside, the storm raged on.

PART THREE - in which everything went to hell.
Josh the Noble, taking notice of the bartenders' obvious agitation, sent Heroine A down to the public bar in the basement to relieve the girl working down there for thirty minutes. She welcomed the break from the madness with vigor, taking solace in re-stocking the cooler, making small-talk with the pleasant customers, and watching the lightning.

Her walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life, as cries for help were heard from her male counterpart upstairs. "I NEED HELP!" he yelped, "I GOT SLAMMED." After ten minutes of no response, Public Bartender returned with the news that the groom threw a cup at Hero B upstairs. Heroine A flew up the stairs to his aid, shoving her way towards the bar. From that time on, everything was a blur of liquor, dollar bills, and maneuvering around each other, their sticky arms full of bottles.

Throughout the rest of the night, everything that could have gone wrong did. Wedding guests were vomiting in the bathrooms and drunkenly storming through the lobby. The roof began leaking in multiple places. The DJ blew a fuse. Both bartenders were hit in the face with flying plastic cups, both with and without liquor. CUNTZILLA! raged at Josh the Noble, trying to get him fired, and then sat at a table across from the bar and began to pout. CUNTZILLA!'s maid of honor flew to her rescue, heckling our heroes, and generally making things as ridiculously difficult as possible. Hero B tried to keep everything together as Heroine A ran her ass off that night, flying from the upstairs bar to the downstairs bar and back, attempting to find any one of the seven liquors that the hotel had run out of, reassuring the customers that she would attend to their every demand in mere moments, and physically threatening the housekeeping staff that stood in her way.

Overall, the wedding party emptied the entire stock of Bloody Mary mix, Red Bull, Korbel, Smirnoff, Bailey's, Bacardi Limon, Captain Morgan, and Malibu (not to mention going through five kegs of Miller Lite in four hours). For the amount of people at the CUNTZILLA!/McCheapAss reception, that is a lot. (Well, for anyone that is a lot.) This greatly aggravated CUNTZILLA!. Out of liquor? Surely you jest! It COULDN'T be because your jackass wedding party DRANK ---- IT ---- ALL.

Things were literally falling apart at the seams when the bartenders slammed down the light switch, ending the reception promptly at 2am. They quickly agreed that Hero B would clean up the bar while the Heroine A dealt with the money, so as to get their tired asses out of that hotel as fast as possible. The finish line was in sight.

As Heroine A was counting out what seemed like ten thousand dollars worth of twenty dollar bills, she heard a familiar thunk!-bam!-crack! that she'd heard but once before. All of a sudden, Security was calling the police because one of McCheapAss's Amazingly Drunk Groomsmen hit his wife in the lobby. Hero B came flying into the back room amidst shrieks from the guests. "There are five bats flying around the conference center," he choked out through gasps for air. "Can we get the hell out?"

Our heroes clocked out, stole some of the leftover catered food from the reception, ran for the exits, and flung open the door to reveal the most intense downpour either one had ever witnessed. They looked at each other with a renewed determination to leave this motherfucking night behind them, and took off into the rain.

I'd SO much rather go see Low than get my $40 refund. But can I? NO. Because you had to get the goddamn chicken pox, and while I had a lovely weekend despite said pox, I was still kind of bitter about everything. I had JUST gotten over the disappointment of missing out on such a sweet show and was looking forward to $40 more than I have right now, but you had to go and ruin it by getting my favorite band to open for you on the day that you'll ACTUALLY SHOW UP.

Bitches.

(Sorry for hotlinking, PDDer. I'm just PISSED.)

-STDs are bad, bad, bad, bad news. They will kill you. (Apparently syphilis was called "Cupid's Disease" in the 1940s.)
-Putting an MP3 player up your ass = bad idea.
-Bugs in your house? They will kill you. Oh yes -- they will.
-If you cheat on your husband with his best friend, you will contract African sleeping sickness. No joke.
-I guess they make intrauterine devices in copper cross shapes for nuns.
-If you do not have contact lenses in, do not try to remove them.
-Buying jeans on the junior high black market will cause you to hallucinate and may eventually kill you.
-If you are sexually attracted to cows, there is some kind of medication for that.
-If you are allergic to gold, make sure your spouse is not sprinkling it in your cereal. I guess people do this.
-Everyone lies. And nobody is right the first time around.
-People with Australian accents can be an infuriating know-it-all and yet still be dreamy.
-Also, brilliant but arrogant assholes with piercing blue eyes are frustratingly hot.
-I am addicted to this show.

"In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, 'Look at me... I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you... you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you.' And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, 'Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest.' So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day."

Despite being bested by the chicken pox, I had a spectacular time in Duluth.












PS: Hell's Kitchen sucks.

In every job, there are unwritten rules that the employees abide by. Bartending is no different. In the last few months that I have worked, I have become increasingly annoyed with the lack of my fellow employees following some of these. I've taken it upon myself to write the unwritten and make known my frustrations. (Lots of capital letters and repetition ahead.)

-Never leave an unstocked bar. God help you if you leave an unstocked bar. (This is an actual rule in most places... it's just a REALLY FUCKING IMPORTANT ONE that is apparently easy to overlook. How hard is it to bring a couple of cases of beer to the cooler? Jesus Christ.)

-Don't be flashy unless you work at a Flair Bar. Bitch, please. Do the job and take the extra effort you would use flipping a bottle or whatever and put it towards talking to the customer or garnishing the drink or something normal. 7/10 people do not care if you have the ability to bartend at the Coyote Ugly or whatever the fuck, and the other 3 only mildly care. Ugh. Annoying.

-Thou shalt not keep personal tips. AKA, if someone says "Pocket this," you smile and put it in the tip jar, and NOT your pocket. You're working just as hard as the other bartender, jackass. You split that shit... unless, of course, the other bartender has got their thumb up their butt while you're working your ass off. Then pocket the tip and smirk your hard-working face off. A well-placed snicker may be appropriate as well.

-How about we be fair with side work? Washing dishes, cleaning the bar, re-stocking during the night... these are things that we (generally) do not enjoy doing as much as we enjoy making drinks or bantering with customers. So switch off. Don't make me do it all the time because your lazy ass won't do it. Otherwise I will shaft you with the clean-up, and that is a promise.

-Sitting and staring at the customers... not a good move. Hey. HEY! Look at me! NO, STOP STARING AT THE FLOOR. Here's the thing. If there's someone who comes into the bar by themselves, they generally are looking for someone to talk to, be it idle chit-chat or be it interesting anecdotes all night long. If you stand there and stare at the ground or, worse, them, you will have a very long night full of awkward head-bobs and heavy sighs, not to mention an empty tip jar. It's not really that difficult to initiate conversation. "Where are you from?" Attaboy.

-Consult the other person before making decisions. For the love... this is the one that's been getting to me lately. I can appreciate being able to make snap decisions under pressure, but how about we make them together? If we are both working, I'm going to need you to check with me before you make a big decision. Drink tickets, keeping the bar open late (or closing it early, god forbid), whatever the case may be, it needs to be a joint decision. Also, having a two minute meeting at the beginning of a shift so we can both be on the same page about things for a sense of continuity is not a bad idea in the least. Otherwise I look like an ass. AN ASS.

-DO. NOT. USE. THE FLOOR DRAIN. AS. A SINK. I'm sorry, I really don't enjoy wading through a pond of cranberry juice and tonic water. That shit goes in THE SINK. THE SINK.

-Keep the cooler organized. Ah! Another way to make me look like an ass! I'm searching high and low through the cooler, desperately searching for a Sam Adams because you decided to hide it under the Heineken for no apparent reason. IT IS ORGANIZED FOR A REASON. God! God.

-Moving the garbage is a BAD BAD BAD IDEA. In addition, PLEASE do not hurl empty liquor bottles toward it with enough force to kill a grown rhino. I've almost been killed on the job at least six times.

I am not the perfect bartender by any means. I'm guilty of being a bitch in situations where it does not call for bitchery (that's my most commonly repeated offense), scooping the ice with a glass (bad, Anniemosity, BAD!), and trash-talking an employee to customers (....oops), just to name a few.

Seriously, if you've been a bartender for at least a year -- and everyone at SCI has -- these are things you should know. They all sound like relatively common sense, right? Assholes.

No, I really like both of my co-workers. Most times. Outside of work, that is. Bitches.

Alright, I'm not quite sure where this rumor started about Low opening for Wilco in Duluth next week, but I'm not finding any information on it, and nobody seems to know if it's true or not. Most conversations I've had with people who know what's up usually go: "So is Low really opening for Wilco?" "I don't know, are they?" Nobody knows.

Here's the thing: they'd better be. Anniemosity needs her Al Sparhawk fix but good. I think I've spent enough time in Onalaska finding myself, care-taking, working in plaid, flirting with 40-year-old businessmen, dreaming about broccoli with the wrong co-worker, et cetera, that I deserve a little Sparhawk. And I think that I've reached the level where I'd TOTALLY be okay, like, talking to him or something. Or at least I wouldn't react like I have in the past (stammer and point a lot, hide behind people so he wouldn't catch me staring, and sigh).

So if anyone has any Low/Wilco-related information, hook a girl up.

Unrelated: this made me laugh:

I get off work super early and what do I do? Do I go downtown with Jackie to say goodbye to the Southern boys? Do I beg and plead with Samantha Scott to drive an hour to see me? No. I do a survey I stole from a friend off of Myspace, turn on the "What Not To Wear"-athon, and dye my hair, with plans of turning in before midnight. LAME.

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
I actually don't really have any scars.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Well I've got nothing right now... but I have a big folder filled with big plans for Minneapolis. Just wait.

3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
I snore when I'm sick or drunk. Sometimes I grind my teeth.

4. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Loud music.

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
11:15pm.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
I kind of want a milkshake. And a new monitor.

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?
Driving. My digital camera. My family in Shoreview.

8. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Depending on the actual size of the space, yes. I get hardcore claustrophobic in the back cooler at work, but that's about it.

9. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
No.

10. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Myself.

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PERFUME FOR A GIRL?
Black Orchid by Tom Ford.

12. WHAT HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
I'm really not that picky. I like green eyes.

13. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Coffee. No fucking question.

14. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
Um. No.

15. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?
Probably some footies or something. I don't know. I was tiny. Who asks this?

16. DO YOU LIKE ANYBODY?
What a ridiculous question. I like everybody.

17. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
Not at all.

18. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
I shop at Old Navy a lot. I wouldn't call it my favorite, but I sure own a lot of stuff from it.

19. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON WOULD LEAVE YOU?
Ouch. Probably.

20. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
I write limericks.

22. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL MOST OFTEN?
Probably my brother.

23. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
The Blue Collar Comedians.

24. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?
Yeah, I went to Mexico last summer. I got a sweet turquoise ring. And sunburned.

25. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Steven Meisel photography (involving Agyness Deyn or Natalia Vodianova), Alan Rickman movies, music with specific memories attached to them, and boys who like Star Wars.

26. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
I made an ass of myself in front of Edie Falco.

27. FIRST JOB?
Blockbuster.

28. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
No. We did that stupid shit where I would call a boy for a friend to find out what homeroom teacher he had. Ahahahahahahaha.

29. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Riding in Ben's new SUV and having a change of heart.

30. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
My sass and sense of humor. And my jewelry. Who knew? (Seriously, I suddenly have some great jewelry.)

31. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
Nope.

32. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
A new computer, a new digital camera, or a trip to London.

33. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
A number between zero and two. I'm not sure yet.

34. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
No.

35. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
A lot. Not as much as Samantha Scott's handwriting.

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
VEGETARIAN. But I liked turkey a lot.

37. ANY BAD HABITS?
Pirate arms.

38.WHAT IS THE MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON YOUR SHELF?
I try to not be ashamed of anything I own. I did take some of my showtunes off of my iPod though.

39. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I'd like to think so. I think I'm hilarious.

40. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
I bitch for awhile. I lift. I crushed a cup tonight.

41. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?
If I'm not at home, I'm at work. Surprise surprise, right?

42. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
My brother and I had these TMNT action figures that were CRAZY. Like, there was a button in the back of one of them that when you pushed it, their eyes would bug out or their head would spin or something. They were awesome.

43. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
Uh.... enough.

44. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Both. God I love carbs.

45. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Sense of humor. Work ethic.

46. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Anniemosity. Bitter Anne.

47. WHATS YOUR FAVORITE BAND/SINGER?
Ugh, like I can choose. Low. RHCP. Satellite Party. Journey. Van Halen. Bon Jovi. Tom Waits.

48. WHATS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?
Arrested Development. Freaks & Geeks. Knights of Prosperity.

49. WHAT WAS YOUR ACT/SAT SCORE?
27.

50. WHERE IS YOUR FAVORITE VACATION SPOT?
Pawley's Island, South Carolina.

51. WHATS THE FASTEST YOU HAVE GONE IN A CAR?
Uhhhh 90 I think?

52. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU KISSED?
I cast my net in the wrong pond.

53. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Clinton Kelly saying "cami." Ahhh I love him.

54. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Eyes. And, lately, eyelashes. Seriously. What the hell.

55. LAST TEXT YOU GOT?
"Tomorrow is my cousin's birthday. Let's do Sunday?" from Samantha Scott.

56. FAVORITE THING TO HAVE?
Enough sleep.

57. FAVORITE ZODIAC SIGN?
Um, my own, I suppose. Aries.

58. WHO IS YOUR HERO?
Perry Farrell for his perseverance. Muhammad Ali for standing up for what he believed in, his trash talk, and for generally kicking ass. Andy Warhol, for effectively merging art, music, and fashion. And Batman. Always Batman.

59. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
I let the blond grow out... but I'm about to color it. Tonight. Brown again.

60. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH?
Hockey. I'm enjoying baseball games too.

61. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT?
Subway. I'm loving Burrachos, though. That's going to suck not to have.

62. YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Ohhhh god I miss sushi. Would that be considered cheating on my vegetarianism? (Not like that's stopped me before.)

63.LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
Stacy London screaming, "WE NEED TO GET YOU A BRA!"

64. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
This year? Really, the Les Claypool concert is big. The day we spent in Leif Erickson. Today was really good, actually. No, dude, I don't know.

65. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
Yeah. Oh get this, my brother and I are writing music again. We're recording with my cousin in a month. Jealous?

66. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
Democrat.

67. KISSES OR HUGS?
Depends on who it's from.

68. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Hair dye and amethyst eyeshadow.

69. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
"Jaws."

70. DESCRIBE YOUR LOVE LIFE IN ONE WORD.
Work. Take it as you will.