Happy New Year!

Welcome to 2009 "Confessions" readers! John at the Bar here once again. The Mick and I have gotten together and decided that there are a few things we can do to spruce up our posts. This year, we are starting a feature called "The Regular List". Once a week we are going to spotlight two types of regulars that frequent bars. Maybe you are one of these?

In other news, this time of year is a double-edged sword for the service industry. First off, we are excited that the holiday season is over and we can get back to our normal schedules (holidays are brutal). On the flip side however, this time of year proves to be slower and less lucrative for us. So please remember that this is also a job for us.

Now... on to The Regulars! We'll let The Mick take the first swing.

Socrates in a Bottle

I've encountered several of these modern day muses at our host bar the Winchester. Something about me apparently screams "tell me your philosophies on life!" The first one was the classic example: After several pitchers of what I can assume was Golden Colorado's finest brew Plato corners a buddy and myself and decided to discern if we were 'good people.' He questions our values, beliefs, family structure and general attitude towards the world. After several chest pokes my friend escapes to the Men's room leaving me by myself to listen to his unraveling of life's little mysteries. Now, everybody has their opinions and I can surely not fault a man for being chatty after that much beer, but there are some conversations that need not be held at 2am, alcohol or not. I don't care if Jesus should have said more about Zen and Karma. I'm not going to attempt to wrap my brain around the ideas of rogue asteroids light years away, plotting to remove various chunks
of the midwest to carve a global picture of John Wayne. The beauty in all of this conversation is that somewhere near what can be considered to be the middle was the following quote: "Now look at me, I never finished the 10th grade and i got my head on straight. You don't need all that book smart if you can think right." Here lies the brilliance of Socrates in a Bottle.

Quote of the Night: "Sit down and let me tell you somethin..."
Probably Drinking: His fourth pitcher of Coors.


Thanks Mick. Now my turn.


The Lead Singer


Everyone has encountered this bag of douche out somewhere. This is the guy that enthralls everyone with his stories of the days that he led Joe Dirt and the Mullets to 3rd place at his high school talent show singing the most off key version of whatever Top 40 Rock song was popular at the moment. This is the guy wearing tight stonewashed blue jeans and a Hawaiian shirt playing air guitar...

Sigh. He knows every word to Nickelback's "How You Remind Me" and will never shy away from telling you the stories of how his band ALMOST made it. And by almost he means they called whatever venue his favorite band was playing and begged to play opening act. Oh yeah, there was that one time they got to play at the local coffee shop when 200 (more like 40) people showed up and they rocked! Now don't get me wrong, this guy isn't a jerk off or anything, but really dude, no one cares about your lame ass cover band you had in High School. Nobody wants to hear your karaoke version of "Livin' on a Prayer".

Quote of the Night: "Man I used to sing this song back when I played in my band back in blah blah blah"
Probably Drinking: Bud Light or something equally douchey

This is Why We Laugh at You

I fully understand that over the course of a day I am going to encounter a few people who have had too much to drink. It happens! This guy, whoooo. He came and sat down and repeatedly asked for a "cold burr" to which I responded, "if you can't pronounce it, you can't drink it". The Newb (our new bar back) just happened to have a small camcorder. We decided to video Hanging Chad to prove to him just how drunk he was.

(sidenote- okay, yes we are a bar in Texas, hence the references to Texas sports. I am a fan of University of Michigan Football (3-9). Chad bet me $50 that Michigan was playing in a Bowl Game. LOL. And although I like to write this blog in anonymity, this is the chance you will have to hear The Mick's voice (that's his arm in the video) and I chattering in the background in falsetto excitement. The handsome gentlemen operating the camera is B the Newb.)



Hey, at least he was entertaining.


Ah, another one of my favorite (but not really) people that come in: The story of The Cult of Personality.


The Cult of Personality: The COP consists of about 4 guys, headed up by the Shaman of the COP and consists of 3. I would hate to use the word degenerates, but they aren't exactly the shining members of society. These cats all work for a landscaping company and dress like the Heaven's Gate Cult. All with their pretty T-Shirts tucked into their jeans. These guys are all in their late 30's early 40s. One of them is nice enough, the rest just pretty much creep everyone out. Let's just say that the Shaman has been known to sit at the bar with his laptop and watch internet porn. It' s one thing to watch it at your house, but to watch porn at a crowded bar? Yuck.

Such is life.

Stop Believin'

Sorry for the delay kiddoes- We have 2 blockbuster posts coming your way. For now, I let The Mick take the reigns (as I am waiting for my video to accompany my blog). This one is a doozy!
The fact that he works at a place that does karaoke just adds fuel to the fire. I swear to God he came into my bar last night while I was working and the song he writes about came on our juke box. The Mick, I consider to be a good friend of mine now, looks right at me, sneers, and throws me the bird. Nice.

Oh yeah, I'm expecting some more contributions from other coworkers and industry types of mine so this ledger should be getting better! Aw shit that rhymed. I also just realized last night that I am in fact "John the Bartender" from Billy Joel's classic "Piano Man". Shit. My post will be up before the end of the day and if you've ever been drunk (I mean DRUNK) in a bar, you are in the cross hairs this week. Watch out!

-John (aka the narrator)


Stop Believin'

Ok, loyal readers, The Mick is back and likely going to piss off a good deal of you, but something needs to be said. For the love of all that is sacred and holy, please stop playing Journey's "Don't stop Believin'" on the Jukebox and at Karaoke nite. I know what you're going to say, "But Mick, we love that song. It gives us courage and excitement and lets us know that we can make it through as long as we don't stop believin'." To which I will respond, Shut the fuck up. I was going to mention this song during the Karaoke Nite post, but I felt I had more than enough material to grant this miserable, miserable song its own post. Here's why.

Disclaimer: if you are old enough to have liked the song when it was originally released, you're slightly exempt from this. If by some miracle or curse on your soul it doesn't already make you want to pull your hair out one by one and you've still not heard Steve Perry's shrill voice enough, then so be it. You've paid your dues and have long ago lost touch with what can be considered outside the realm of audio torture. Carry on.

There are many reasons why I hate this song, and the main one harkens back to my days in karaoke. It was in College Station, Texas well known home of the Fightin' Aggies where my disdain for this band started. There was a triumvirate of miserable tunes that drunk rednecks and frat boys would take turns butchering. Total Eclipse of the Heart and Picture were both addressed in my previous post. But the third, and possibly most atrocious rendition has to go to Journey. I'll admit, I was never a huge fan, but if a few of their tunes would come on the radio I wouldn't change it. Hell, if their live in Houston album was played at parties, I'd sing right along. But no, the world couldn't leave me in my comfortable indifference. Night after grueling night the good drunken people of college station were assaulted by the broken smoke filled falsetto of every wannabe rock star in the various bars. It was not only done poorly, but then another whiskey laden jackass
would try to one up his tone deaf counterpart with his own version. A minimum of two, and a world record of 6 times a night is enough to make anybody run screaming into the night, only to waken to the solace of a padded room. That alone would be enough, but my fight with this song continues.

I hate the Chicago White Sox. As a life long die hard Astros fan, nothing was worse than getting swept in our franchises only World Series apperence. I thought we had hit the lowest of the low. The commissioner of the league stole our home field advantage and the bastards of the north celebrated in our house. But they didn't stop there. All Star Asshole A.J. Pierzynski decided to let the world know that Don't Stop Believin was one of his favorite songs and so the stadium would rock it out every chance they got. Its not bad enough watching my team lose, but having that be the sound track behind it was salt in the wound. And just when I thought it couldn't get any lower for the home town team, during their city wide celebration, the sox invited the devil himself, steve perry, to sing with Pierzynski, Joe Crede, and Aaron Rowand. Miserable.

Before you start flooding the comment box telling me that this is a personal vendetta, that your love of Journey has nothing to do with those reasons. You're right. Thats my own personal issue, but riddle me this. WHen have you ever listend to, liked and sang along with that song without alcohol playing a major factor? Its been driven down our collective ear canals so many times that we are lulled into a false sense of enjoyment when in reality you all hate it as much as i do. According to wikipedia (the internets most trusted information source) all of the following have used this miserable song : The Sopranos, The Wedding Singer, Family Guy, Monster, Shrek The Halls, The Comebacks, View From the Top, South Park, Cold Case, and Scrubs, The Daily Show, ESPN, WCBS-FM, Celebrity Apprentice, a campaign video for Hillary Clinton and for the final episode of Tony Martin's Get This radio show. The aforementioned White Sox, Arizona Diamondbacks, Washington
Capitols, Waterford Hurling Team, and every miserable can't win to save their lives team in the city of Detroit. (sorry bro) This song is much the same as Top Gun, everyone thinks they love it, but if you sit down and judge it on its merits a rational person will come to the same conclusion. IT SUCKS!

I hear you already friends. "What, Mick, what do you want me, the average bar partron to do. What is your end goal in all of this negativity?" The answer is simple. Do your selves, your friends and families, and most importantly your humble bartenders a simple favor. Stop playing/singing this song. Stop tormenting the hoards of thirsty patrons with this cruel trick on humanity, and for the love of God Stop Believin'. Maybe the next generation of drinkers will know a world void of the 80s worst legacy.

Until next time, Cheers! Mike the Mick.

ps- the same goes for Foreigner

Welcome Mike the Mick!

Happy Birthday to me as well. I went to my bar for a beer or two and ended up taking 15 whacks with a pizza paddle, drinking a DAS BOOT, and god knows what else. My friends are awesome.

(side note- don't ever ever ever try to hang with a bartender. it's not an ego thing, it's just the truth. our tolerance is 10x higher than yours.)

ONWARDS!!! I would like to welcome our first post from Mike the Mick. Thanks Mikey.

Karaoke Night


Ah Karaoke Nite. The mere mention of this most sacred of bar time traditions is enough to make an otherwise sane and stable human being resort to actions he or she would previously considered brash and embarrassing. Singing at karaoke nite is unacceptable in the vast majority of social circles, and yet two Jager bombs later, we're all subject to the nights fourth throaty rendition of Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow's timeless anthem "Picture." Now for the casual onlooker, Karaoke nite is nothing but a random assortment of drunken merriment, but any bartender who has ever suffered through the barrage of hair metal sung in baritone can tell you the usual suspects show up no matter which bar you frequent. Here's a brief list of my favorites. (gender may be used interchangeably)

The "Professional"

M.O. - Everybody knows the professional when he walks into the bar. He's usually a regular and tends to be a decently nice guy. He was in a garage band for 17 years and opened for the toadies once in '94. He's been to more concerts than you or I knew existed and loves to drop indy bands that nobody has ever heard of to prove his rock star pedigree.

Likely Singing - Tom Petty "Runnin' Down A Dream"

The Weekend Warrior

M.O. - The weekend warrior makes or made straight A's. If she's graduated already, she's probably getting a masters in something obscure like interpretive dance or English literature. She can't sing, but if she doesn't go out and get hammered then the pressure building up in her head will likely cause her to stalk and kill the department chair. An interesting side note, don't let the sweater and tortoise shell glasses fool you, as far as freaky one night stands go, she'll give you and your buddies stories that will last for years.

Likely Singing - 4 Non Blonds "Whats Up"

The Hot Mess

M.O. - This cougar can be found circling the nearest table of frat boys like a vulture around a deer that just met the business end of a Mack truck. She's had more appletini's than the guy from Scrubs, and her overly freckled bust is attracting the stares of nearly every patron in the building. Everybody loves when she sings, not because of her talent, but because they can take 3-5 minutes of safety knowing that she can't flirt with anybody farther than the mic cord will allow her to stumble. Guard your junk fellas because she's not afraid to let her hands do the talking, even if you're on stage.

Likely Singing - Something from the Lylith Fair at the top of her lungs

The Frat Boy

M.O. - We've all seen them. Drunk as balls off of Bud Light and Wild Turkey. Spit cup in one hand, easy, mediocre looking blonde wearing a black shirt, black tights and a 9 inch red sequined strap under her boobs to match her 6 inch heels and handbag that's only big enough for a cellphone and a pack of birth control she forgot to take. One night on a handful of cheap amphetamines him and his boys saw Old School and didn't realize the only reason it was funny was because him and his boys weren't in it. Since then they've been traveling bar to bar looking for a new crowd to impress with their vast knowledge of Will Ferrel quotes.

Likely Singing - Total Eclipse of the Heart... saying fuck far more than they ever did in the movie.

And that's the short list. Next time you're at a fabulous Karaoke event be sure to keep your eyes open for all the wonderful regulars who continue to surprise and delight us all. I'd like to leave you with a quote, which sums up everything that can be said, originally from my friend the Brazillian: "Fat chicks love Karaoke nite."

Cheers, Mike the Mick

The Guide to Bar Patron Etiquette

Please follow this handy list of things to do and not to do.

1.) Get your money ready. I'm waiting on you and everyone else is waiting on me. If you order the same $3 beer all night, you know how much it costs. do me a favor, if you are fast, then i'll be fast to get back to you.

2.) Don't whistle at me. I'm not your puppy. Whistling is international signal for "please kick me the fuck out". Same category, don't wave your money at me. I'm not a stripper.

3.) "I want a vodka tonic and make it strong!" Want a strong drink? So does everyone else. Don't insult me.

4.) If you have a multi-drink order, please for the love of God and all things holy, ORDER IT ALL AT ONCE.

5.) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't bitch about me IDing you. Guess what? My bar now requires we ID everyone. EVERYONE. (long story) My job depends on it. I serve a minor? They close my bar, fine me thousands of dollars, plus I get to spend the night in jail. Remember that next time you bitch.

(the following is copied verbatim, thanks to the site i cribbed it from)

6.) Karma. Healthy tipping is conducive to elevating and maintaining one's bar karma. Bartenders at the five or six saloons where I usually proffer my custom have come to know me as a good, even extravagant, tipper, and as such they remember my face and name even after a lengthy absence, and are happy to welcome me back atop my favorite stool. My singles are often doubles at these bars, and my tabs are routinely missing a few drinks from the final reckoning. It's called ‘reciprocity.' Because I have taken care of them in the past, and they know I will continue to take care of them in the future, they take care of me in the present. People have bugged me about my relationships with bartenders, calling them mutually coercive or some such other silliness. But it's not coercion. It's just a mutually beneficial business agreement. One I swear by.

tue november 27

this was the only day i worked this week that seemed to deserve a signifcant blog.

matty and i were on staff for this kick ass tuesday night. bar was rockin and rollin seemingly from beginning to end, probably the busiest tuesday night i had ever worked. lo and behold, our local boys in blue arrive around 11:30, pulling me aside saying, "are you in charge?" usually that's never a good question coming from a cop. turns out someone called in a bomb threat on MY bar during MY shift. fucking wonderful. so i close everyone out calmly and escort them out the door. matty and i sit in the parking lot for almost 2 fucking hours (it's about 50 degrees at this point) while the dog sniffs through everything.

we had 1 customer after we reopened. fuck the slut bar down the street for having a pole and slutty chicks.



side note-

saturday november 29th-

a funny captain prick anecdote: captain prick came in with his "new girlfriend". i pulled L aside and said, "so he brings in a girl, are we supposed to be nice to him now?" i'm not sure if he was just being facetious all night or serious, but he was laying on the nice guy acting pretty thick. god what an asshole. i was very nice and polite (which is out of my character. that's how i make my money). $53 tab. $5 tip. what a douche.





PS if anyone other than me reads this, there will be a new contributer coming up pretty soon. mike the mick is a pretty funny cat, so hopefully he can fill in the days where i'm either too busy, too tired, or too hungover to post.

that is all.

and i just wanted to add this on because i thought it was funny

this taken from dcbartender blog from 2006. he hasn't posted in it in a while, and i stumbled across this gem of a post. enjoy.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Your Bartender Hates You ... Here's Why

I'm going to say it even if no one else will. Secretly and passionately, your bartender hates your f-ing guts. Yes, I mean you. He or she loves your money but if you're prone to commit one or more of the following bar faux pas--and be honest with your self--then you're the bane of the barman.

1.) "I'll take that with no ice, in a large glass and make it strong."
Ok. Fine. But you're still getting 1.5 ounces. You see, the company pays for all the liquor on the shelves. It's not free and you're essentially asking something for free. The mark-ups are not outrageous; we order the liquor, polish the glassware, build the bar, pay rent and more with the pennies on top. Try it at a bank. Walk up to the teller and ask them to top off your pay check with an extra $20. See what happens.

2.) "Is [so-and-so] working tonight?"
File this one under "C", along with the last one, for cheap-ass. If they're asking for someone else, who is--after all--clearly not in sight, it's because they have no intention of paying full price for drinks. Once again, for the slower set, bars are businesses. Someone giving you free drinks is essentially selling the stool upon which you sit to the debtor's house. Don't get me wrong, a comped drink is nice, but much less so if you come to expect it.

3.) Hitting on Women That Clearly Hate You More Than the Bartender
It sounds like a joke. How about the guy who, after hitting on a solitary girl at the bar that left in disgust, turned to the lady bartender and laid down the same rap. The lady bartender, of course, laughed. That is, laughed at his expense. Too bad its not a joke. I've seen somebody play the line all the way down the bar. So why not read the non-verbal cues! If the whole bar knows your striking out, why don't you?
Walk away while you still have a shred of diginity. (They never do, do they?)

4.) Ordering Tea When the Bar is Three Deep
So why do we get upset when you order tea when the bar is busy? Because tea involves multiple steps, with each step being in-depth and at some far away, remote point in the restaurant.

Step 1: There is usually a box of tea. It gets used every third night and is kept somewhere shoved over, under or by the coffee machinery. It's rarely stocked and rarely kept in an obvious place. First we find this, bring the selection to you and you stand their stammering: Morrocan Mint or Lemon Verbana?

Step 2: Get the tea pot, tea tray, tea cup, tea saucer, tea spoon, sugar packets, Equal packets, Splenda packets, milk, honey and lemon. No explanantion needed of why this sucks, right?

Step 3: Stand there like a shithead waiting for hot water while the busboy amorously foams the cappucino.

Step 4: Serve and smile, wait for the 15 to 20% tip on $2.75. (For those who are slow, that's $.41 to $.55.)

5.) "I used to be a bartender."
I love this one. A bartender, really? I've studied and memorized the profiles of hundreds of liquors; even more, I know hundreds of recipes and how to mix them by heart; I've spent nights dreaming of the components of vermouth that you jokingly (not your own joke, I might add) say I should "wave" in front of the Martini; I know the recipe for a Mai Tai from the original made in 1944 and it doesn't have a drop of grenadine; I've studied wine for years so I can describe your Chardonnay that you thought was too expensive at $8; I've polished a thousand or more glasses; I might as well have a major in chemistry and a minor in pyschology; I know the history of bartending and have read every major recipe book from "How to Mix Drinks" to "The Joy of Mixology" and you, jackass, who have spent six months in some shitty bar or club slinging beer, shots and L.I. tea say to me: "Oh yeah, I used to be a bartender." Wrong, twat muffin. You were a bar jockey. So don't bring it up again.

Now it may seem as though I'm some bitter, bitter bartender, but I'm not. I love guests who love me, who respect the profession and don't want free shit. Everyone gets treated with respect at my bar. Even me.