Monthly Archives: August 2013

Smoking Cigarettes

I’m at the club, I’ve been workin for an hour, steady show, but I’ve got another bartender behind the bar, so everything’s runnin smoothly. I tell my fellow bartender, hey man, I’m gonna take 5. He says, cool. I grab my cigs and black Bic lighter, go outside, and light up. Oh my God, it tastes so good. The first drag is the best. The last drag is the sorrow. I love smokin cigarettes. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. I love everything about it. The first cigarette of the day. This is what you do. You sleepily make the coffee, while it’s brewing, you go outside for a smoke. Does it taste good?  Oh hell yeah it tastes good. Right off the bat, one of the best parts of my day. Finish up the smoke, go back inside, pour myself a cup of coffee, splash of cream, sip on that for five minutes, then go out for another smoke.

I haven’t done that in six years, and I still miss it, from time to time.

I’ve been addicted to many things in my life. Hard drugs, not some much, but I have experimented a bit. No heroin. Nothing serious. I would NEVER do heroin. I’d probably like it.

One of the main problems with addiction is, not so much being addicted per se, but being ignorant to the fact that you ARE addicted. You find out, soon enough, how much you’re addicted to the drug, when you quit it, and could gnaw your fist off.

Nowadays, when I take five, I go in the stairwell, get away from the action for five minutes, sit on a cheap lawn chair, and sip my N/A Kaliber.

And it’s disgusting. But better than nothing, I suppose.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

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The Tie Clip

I’m at the bar, pickin up martini glasses, and this gentleman comes out of the bathroom, shirt, tie, slacks, lookin damn sharp.  I tell him, dang, dude, I like that tie clip you got. That’s the thing. Tie clips. So hot right now.

He looks down at his tie. You like this?  I say, yeah, it’s cool.  He takes it off his tie. Here ya go. What?  Yeah, take it. I work at Banana Republic. I got another one at work. Oh, I couldn’t possibly take it from you.  No, I want you to have it. Holy shit, man, I say. That’s so kind of you. Sure, he says. Well…I gotta buy you a martini for that. Nope, he says. No need. Wow. Thanks, man. You just made my night. He turns back to his friend, and I go pick up more martini glasses.

Now I just have to figure out when to wear a tie.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Underwear

I’m at the bar, I tell my fellow bartender, I gotta go. I might be awhile. I go, probably five minutes, I come back, and for some reason, my underwear has gone out-of-alignment.  It’s all bunched up. I try to organize it, pull it up this way, pull it down that way, but it still doesn’t feel right. It feels like I left a sock in there. Very uncomfortable.

My buddy’s at the bar, I approach him, and tell him of my conundrum. He says, blog post?

Yeah, I say. Probably.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Steller

I’m at the club, this guy comes up, orders a Steller. Yes, with an er. Seems like a nice guy, I don’t wanna be a dick, like I tend to be, so I say, real casual. Sure, that’s a Stella? Yeah, he says, a Steller.

Whatever…I tried.

At the martini bar I work at, we have Smithwicks on tap, and people murder that name. They say it phonetically, instead of calling it Smit-icks. Drop the h and the w. I feel comfortable with correcting people on that one, cause it’s tough, and next time, it’ll impress your bartender if you pronounce it correctly.

Guy comes up again, says, I’ll take another one of those Stellers. I say, you bet, my man.

One more Steller, comin right up.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Hanging Up On Larry David

I’m at the club. Really good crowd. I know a lot of my posts start out with somethin like, the place is dead, but we do have decent shows, I promise you. Anyway, this band gets up on stage, lead singer’s real charismatic. I love that. Tellin great stories in between songs. So he starts tellin this story, and I’ll never forget it.

He gets a phone call one day, picks up, and the guy says, is this Milano? And he says, yeah, you got im. Who’s this? The guy on the other end says, this is Larry David. Milano says, fuck off, and hangs up on him, thinkin it’s one of his buddy’s pullin a practical joke. The phone rings five minutes later, this time it’s a woman. Hi, this is so-and-so, I’m Larry David’s assistant, and I assure you, he was the one who just called you. Milano says, holy shit. Really? What does he want? Well, are you available to talk to him? Milano says, fuck yeah. I love Seinfeld.

Larry gets on the line. Yeah, you gonna hang up on me again? No, sir, Milano says. What can I do for ya? Well, I got this show I’m workin on starring Kirstie Alley, and I’d liked to use your song Bubble Butt, for the theme song. Milano says, I don’t know. Kirstie Alley? I’m not sure if I’m into that. Larry David says, I’ll pay you $20,000. Then Milano says,

Sign me up.

I guess the show went nowhere, but the guy indeed made 20 G’s, and got to talk to Larry Freaking David.

And I thought that was pretty, pretty, pretty cool.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

The Pizza Slice

Customer story:  I’m in the Quad Cities, with my girlfriend. It’s a Saturday night, we get wasted. Around three o’clock, we find a pizza place. I get a slice. I’m so hungry, I can’t wait to bite into it.

I go to take the first bite, and the slice, slips outta my hand. Oh, shit. I go to pick it up. It’s got a buncha gravel on it. Dirt. Inedible. I’m so pissed, cause I’m so hungry, I chuck the thing, in the air. And then I see where it’s headed. Right for this Kia. It’s probably like a 92 Kia. It hits it on the side window. Smack. Then smears down.  There’s like 6 people in the car. They jump out, arms swingin in the air.

Oh, no you didn’t throw a pizza slice at my car!  That sorta thing. They call the cops. Cops come. They’re sayin it’s a hate crime to the cops. Cause I threw a slice at their car. Hate crime!!!!  It’s a hate crime!!  Cop rolls his eyes, and cuffs me. Takes me in, to prevent a riot.

I’m in there, my girlfriend calls her mother. At 4am. You gotta pick us up. We’re stranded in the Quad Cities. We’re in jail, and we don’t know where we are.

Nothing came of it. No charges. They were gonna charge me with Disorderly Conduct, but mysteriously, the paperwork “got lost”.

And that’s the story, of how a pizza slice, became a hate crime.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Girls Fart

I’m servin these girls tonight, and one of em says, about the other, you know, she’s never burped before. The non-burper says, yeah, I just can’t burp. And so I say, ok, what about fart?  And she goes, oh no, I do that like a champ. And then I tell her, ya know, I like it when a girl farts in front of me. It means she feels comfortable around me. Yeah, the girl champion-farter says, it means she’s bein real with you.

I tell my fellow bartender, I gotta take five. I go into the stairwell, and write this.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.