So if you can believe this shiz, the early show at the Mews got cancelled, AND, the late. What are the fricking odds? They astound, and boggle the mind.
Three ladies glide into the bar, around 10pm, say, you open? I say, sure, come on in. They saddle up, we start chit-chatting. One of em says, oh, who brought in the roses? Pointing to two roses behind the bar. I say, I did. I love roses. Got a problem with that? She says, no, not at all. I mean, I expound, can’t a heterosexual man buy a couple roses and bring em into work?!? One of em says, you know, a heterosexual man has never bought me flowers. Never? Are you serious? No, never.
Listen, guys, and listen to me good. Go out and buy your girl some damn flowers every once in a while, will ya? You can buy a dozen red roses at WALMART for like 10 bucks. Lie to her, say, yeah I bought em at Flowerama, she won’t know the difference.
Here’s a good time to buy em: you have a fight, a big brouhaha, you make up, you have the after-fight sex, then the next day, skip over to Hy-vee, or whatever your closest grocery store is in the world, buy a couple of long stem roses (I know red roses are cliche as hell, but screw it, they’re beautiful), bring em home, give em to her, and then, it will magically gloss things over for you, as if the fight had never happened.
And then you might get a blow-job out of the deal. WIN!!
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.