Monthly Archives: March 2014

Business Casual

The lead singer on stage right now, is wearing a long sleeve, white dress shirt, tucked into pleated, khaki pants.

Let me tell you something, fine musicians of the great hemisphere. Never, and I mean never, under any circumstances, should you wear khaki pants on stage.

Save it for your day job.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Random Act Of Kindness

Guy approaches the bar around 1am, says to me, I’d like you to run my card for $100. Anybody comes up, wants a drink, use it towards that. But make sure you don’t tell anybody who it’s from.

I run his tab, hand it back to him. I almost ask him why he’s doing it, but I decide not to. Maybe just a random act of kindness.

So people come up, ask for a drink, I make it for them, set it down, and say, on the house. They look at me, surprised, then say,

Thank you.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

The Racist Cab Driver

I’m behind the bar, guy comes up, he seems flustered. What’s up, my man? He says, have you ever known someone who’s racist that has to make it known constantly that they’re racist?  I guess, I say. Are you talking about someone in particular?  He says, yeah. This cab driver I just had. Oh my God, I say. Blank Cab, right? He says, actually, yeah. Yeah, I’ve totally heard about this guy. He’s infamous. Two customers have told me about him. The racist cab driver. What did he say?  Well, he’s like, N this, and N that. I’m just sitting there, uncomfortable, and he keeps on going. An Asian guy walked across the street, and he says, oh. Gotta get me some Chinese food!!  So he’s not just racist towards African-Americans.

He’s across the board racist.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Fire Crotch

I’m behind the bar, steady crowd, I approach a regular, yeah, what can I get you? She says, Cliiiiiint. Can you make me a specialty martini?  My own concoction. Sure, I say. As long as you know the ingredients. She says, Baileys, Buttershots, and Fireball. Got it, I say. I go and make her extra-special martini. I come back, put the martini glass in front of her, and pour. You know, I say. I got the perfect name for this martini. She says, do tell. I go, call it Fire Crotch. She laughs. Hey, we got the Pineapple Slut, the Mango Slut, the G-Spot, why not the Fire Crotch?

She says, I like it.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

A Visit To My Psychiatrist

I’m at the bar, there’s these girls, two girls, cool, having pints, I approach, and say, you know, ladies, I see you two here, three nights a week. You’re here for five hours each time. Ain’t that right?  One of them says, yeah. That sounds about right. And I see you guys, talkin, THE WHOLE TIME. I mean, how do you come up with that much to talk about?  I’d run out of things to talk about, hour tops. One of them says, we’ve always got something to talk about.

I tell them, I saw this psychiatrist one time, quit after three sessions. You know why?  I RAN OUT OF THINGS TO TALK ABOUT. I remember, the last session, I was like, well, I had a dream last night. Maybe we could talk about that?

After that, I was done.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

A Quarter

Great. I’m wiping off the bar, what do I find?  A quarter. Damn it. This quarter will throw off my entire night. Sometimes people tip .50, $1.50, you get it, I store up the quarters, until I have a dollar, then I cash it in for some paper. But then when you get that quarter!  It throws the whole system off.

All night I’m looking at .75. Or $1.25.

I’m just throwing this quarter away.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

Just A Hamm’s

Guy comes up to the bar, says, can I just get a Hamm’s? Woah, woah, woah, I say. Just?  You don’t say JUST a Hamm’s. Hamm’s is a delicious beer. You say, can I just get a water, but never just a Hamm’s. Show some respect.

He says, ok. Can I get a Hamm’s?

Absolutely, I say. That’s better.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.