I went to the bar tonight to visit a bartender friend at work, as well as to catch up on reading. Additionally, I hadn't spoken to a person in person in over 9000 days. In other words, I needed to get the fuck out of the house.

I chatted with Erin, ordered food, and commented on the bro-fest that was at that time taking up over 9000 eight-top tables in the restaurant. [I think it was a bunch of frat boys who are in the middle of pledging or whatever it is that bros do.] Mmm, bro-mance.

Anyway, this guy sits down next to me as I'm reading, and asks how much a Pyramid Hefeweizen costs. After being told by Erin how much, he orders one and drinks it, while periodically staring at the left side of my head. [Uh, creepy.]
After that is done, he leans his head in close to me and asks what I'm reading. I show him the cover, and he asks what it's about. I say, "African history." Then he proceeds to tell me, without prompt, about the Zulu nation and the pyramids and the origin of the cross. I don't look up from my book at all.

He gives up on trying to make conversation, and asks Erin how much a PBR costs.
"$2.25"
"Well, I have $1.76"
"Then I guess you're not getting a PBR"
"Oh, come on"
Erin shrugs and turns to another customer.
At this, he gathers all of his belongings, and leaves in a huff, quietly saying "what a bitch" under his breath.

I mean, come on. In what kind of CRAZY, ALIEN WORLD do consumers have to pay for the things they consume?

Spot on, Bertrand, spot on.


Dear Lord, the arrogance of even countering with "Well, I have $1.76".

Man....your world is so civilised...

Come to the Americas man, the land of oppertunity I tells ya....well at least North America, maybe not Canada or Mexico, but the part that counts is.

Today, it rained. As I walked through the masses to class earlier, I definitely got ambushed and shanked in the face by a short chick wielding a pink umbrella. Goddamn wire umbrella skeletons.
I now have a scratch trailing across my right cheek, that was exposed to cold rain all day.
In case you were not aware, cold acid rain into freshly-drawn scratches stings a bit.

Enough of that story. On to a new one.

During our ten-minute break in the middle of a 2hr:40min class, I laid my head down on my desk, yanked my hood over my cranium, and proceeded to attempt a ten-minute nap.

The over 9000 privileged Valley-esque white girls to the left of me are jibber-jabbering away about Girl A's boyfriend who works at Bonefish Grill. This sad male fatty to the left of them asks what Bonefish is, and feigns interest in going there, despite the entire city knowing that that shit is overpriced, and far too expensive for anyone who makes less than forty grand a year [which at this point, is pretty much all of us].

"Oh, right, that one off of Hull Street? Yeah, yeah, I've always passed by there and wondered how it was, OH BY THE WAY I AM A BONAFIDE FATTY TRYING TO GET INTO YOUR NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD ANOREXIC VAJEE, OF PEE-IN-VAJEE FAME."
Ok so he didn't actually say that last part but he may as well have.

Just when I don't think that overhearing this conversation could get any more excruciating, a thunderbolt strikes. Girl B cleverly mentions *gasp* the BEST RESTAURANT IN THE WOOOOOOORLD.
Motherfuckin' Maggiano's. *headdesk*
"[*INSERT GIANT, UNNECESSARILY AUDIBLE GASP HERE*] Oh, I baxter Maggiano's!! Ohmygod it is just to die for!"

And that, my friends, is the exact moment that I knew that every Tuesday for the rest of term would be a dreadful day.

Yay for thinking that History of Southern Africa could be a fun class.

Thank fuuuuck I am almost out of here.

I'd like to hear what you learnt in your class. That shit should be funny.

They told you anything about Nelson Mandela? I know...it's probably a stupid question.

Are they saying "The white europeans stole the land from the poeple that's been staying there for 8 milion yearws already"?

And yes, we have a fuck boring history.

Congratulations on finding the new sexualizer too.

Bahaha, my last names a sexualizer! And the first post is a good part of the reason why every time I think about picking up a bartending gig again, I don't. Men that try to talk and get angry when you aren't cutesy back, and men that think because they have a penis, they don't have to pay full price. Winking at me =/= paying for your drink.

I sexualizer baxter.

Good story, but I am sooo glad that I am not in school, I couldn't stand the 7 years I spent in highschool, let alone going to college. I am also soooo glad that I'm not 19 years old and trying to get into some 19 year olds pants. What a goddamn jerkfuck kids are.

What EVER!

I have the same problem with chicks trying to pawn drinks off me.

As a rule, I let them buy the first round before I even contemplate buying anything for them.

Ask PIG, that's what the goths at his club never talk to me anymore.

Oh, youporn.com. What would I do without you?

I fuckin hate it when chicks try and get you to buy them drinks. Get a job bitch. Fuck. It's not going to suck itself. That's why I go to the alternative club up the road. The chicks don't pull that shit. In fact, some fucked up possibly gay dude paid for my round of drinks the other night because he liked my beard.

Shaka dies in the end.

Dingaan killed him because he is a fatty mcfat pants.

Also Jacob Zuma has a striking rezemblence to Dingaan.

What a fuckup.

Do you also know who Piet Retief is?