Monthly Archives: April 2015

Sneaking Into The Playboy Mansion

I’m behind the bar, it’s martini night, guess what? I’m making. A lot. Of martinis.

I approach two customers at the bar. Guy, with a huge beard, and a nice young lady. The guy exclaims, Clint! Holy shit, I know this guy. But at first, I can’t put my finger on WHERE I know him from. I say, hey, my man!  I didn’t recognize you.

Give me a sec. It’s coming.

Yeah, he says. It’s the beard.

BINGO. Used to work with him ten years ago. Got it.

We catch up. He tells me about a creative project he’s doing. A pubcast. Ok. Good for him. He says, I know you tell bar stories. Love for you to come in, tell some of your stories.

He turns to his friend, says, Clint has a story that transcends other stories. Every walk of life can appreciate the story.

Ok. What story is he talking about?  I’ve written about 900 of them in the past two years.

He says, Clint. You know which story I’m talking about. You rip open your shirt, and there’s the tuxedo.

What the hell is this guy talking about?  I’ve never worn a tuxedo. Ok, maybe in my wedding, and swing choir.

I don’t want to be rude, so I go along with it.

Yeah, I say. That’s a good one.

He says, good one?!?!  That story’s epic!

Damn it. What the hell story is it?  Now I’m screwed. I can’t go back and say, actually I don’t know which story you’re talking about. But now, I REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHICH STORY HE’S TALKING ABOUT. I mean, there’s something that must be done. An epic story?  With a shirt and a tuxedo? The only thing I can visualize is Superman.

But that’s not right.

He turns to his friend. He says, I will tell you later which story I’m talking about. I’m thinking, no, please tell her. Because I WANT TO KNOW.

After the guy leaves, and I’m none the wiser to the so-called epic story, I turn to my fellow bartender, and say, you know that guy?  He says, yeah. I say, he said one of my stories was epic, but I couldn’t figure out which one he was talking about. It was something like I ripped open my shirt, and I’m wearing a tuxedo?  My fellow bartender says, I know what he’s talking about. I say, excitedly, WHICH ONE? He says, sneaking into the Playboy Mansion. Ohhhh, I say. THAT one.

My buddies and I got together, and devised a plan. We’ll rent out a couple camcorders, and film us sneaking into the Playboy Mansion for the Millennium Party. My friend learned from a friend how to sneak in. You have to go through his neighbor’s yard, climb a few fences, get in from the backyard. We go out, buy those coveralls mechanics wear. All one piece, long zipper in the front. We put on our suits, then put the coveralls over it. The night comes, we park a block or so away, start filming. We crawl on the wet ground, through Hugh Hef’s neighbors front lawn for a good 45 minutes, and we can see the guards, standing a stone’s throw away from us. We finally get to the last fence to Hugh’s backyard, zip open the coveralls, take them off, and throw them all on top of Hugh Hefner’s neighbor’s house.

Can you imagine, months later, the guy says, oh, I guess it’s time to clean out my gutters, getting up on the ladder to the roof, and seeing those clothes up there?  I bet he freaked!!!

We got in, had an amazing time, filmed all of it, and the rest, as they say, is EPIC.

After we were done with the short film, we had a friend that grew up at the Playboy Mansion, we give him a copy, and ask him if he would give it to Hugh. Weeks later, we got a letter from the man himself. And it said, in a nutshell,

I appreciate what you did, but don’t EVER do it again.

-Clint Curtis

(Followers: Video posted on site)


The Ascent Of Max Jury

What am I doing here on my blog? Well…I’m a bartender at a music venue, and a martini bar. I write stories about what happens at the bars I work at, and occasionally, personal stories. Like many writers, there’s something particular that draws me in. It can be something a person says or does that makes me laugh. Or scratch my head. Most of the time it’s something I find unique. So, if you make it in my blog, whether good or bad, you’re doing something that I find interesting.

If you’ve read a few of my stories, you’ll notice I don’t write much about bands. I feel like there’s people that review music for a living, that can do it much better than I. I have a friend named Marc Hogan that’s very talented in this field. When I get the chance, I’ll always read one of his reviews. I usually agree with what he has to say.

With that said, I’d like to talk about a musician that I’m acquainted with. I met him maybe two years ago, he comes into the bar, with disheveled hair, good-looking, medium height. His name is Max Jury. I don’t know much about him, but I know his “home base” is Des Moines, Iowa. The first thing I mentioned to him was how he has an amazing name. Max Jury? C’mon. That’s a rock star name. It’s strong. It’s catchy. It stands out. A guy named Max Jury is destined for some kind of success, and he’s on his way.

He records with a buddy of mine named Logan Christian. A talented guy in his own right, he records a lot of the more successful bands from Des Moines. He’s a good guy too. And with it. He gives me updates on Mr Max Jury, what he’s doing, when I haven’t seen him in awhile. He’s touring Europe with Lana Del Ray. He’s negotiating a record deal with a label. Etcetera.

Recently, I was talking to Logan, and he told me his management was pressuring him for a hit. I ask him what the song is. He says, it’s a song called Home. I say, you got it on your phone? He thinks for a sec, then says, yeah. I say, let’s hear it! I plug in his phone to the bar’s stereo, hit play, and listen to the song. Catchy. Pretty chorus. “I’m a long, long way. From home…”

A couple days ago, I see a link on social media to a new video from Max of the song. Damn. It’s good. I think the song is a hit. You’re singing the chorus along with him by the end of the song. There’s a gorgeous girl in it. Logan tells me it was shot on the wet streets of Paris. Sexy is a good word for it.

I’m linking the video for you to check out. It’s worth your time. Next time you’re at the bar, and see Max Jury, buy him three fingers of Jameson. That’s his drink.

And of course, remember this story when he becomes huge,

And that I called it.

-Clint Curtis

Three Sheets To The Wind

I’m at my Grandma’s dinner table. Dinner’s done, delicious meal, my Grandma’s home cooked Lebanese food. Forget about it.

To my left is my cousin Grant. To my right, my cousin Greg. We’re all in our forties, they’ve both got divorces under their belt, luckily, I’m keeping mine in one piece.

We’re chatting, catching up.

I ask Grant, to my left, how’s your girlfriend?

He says, we broke up, right after we got back from the Cayman Islands. I say, that’s too bad. I liked her. He says, yeah. She’s too thick headed.

I say, what happened, brief explanation.

He says, it was stupid. We got into a fight…

I delve, what was the fight about?

He says, I don’t know, it started, you know, we were both, two sheets with the wind…

I stop him right there.

Two sheets with the wind?  I don’t think that’s right. I think it’s three sheets to the wind.

He says, three sheets with the wind?

No. Three sheets TO the wind.

He says, three sheets to the wind?  Is that right?

I say, I think that’s it. Lemme check.

I get out my new iPhone 6 plus. Yeah, it’s big. It’s ostentatious. I love it.

I type in, three sheets to…

Yep, it comes up, as a suggestion, three sheets to the wind.

I read:

“To be explicitly drunk; inebriated.

Origin: Sheets actually refer to the ropes that are used to secure a ship’s sail. If the 3 ropes used were loose in the wind, the sail would flop around, causing the ship to wobble around, much like a drunk.

Margo was three sheets to the wind by the time we made it to Doug’s party, judging by her inability to keep her clothes on.”

You know, in retrospect, I didn’t even find out what the fight was about, why they broke up.

But we cleared shit up with the sheets and the wind.

-Clint Curtis

When They Come Up To Run Their Tab And They’ve Already Run It

End of the night, guy comes up, calls me over. He looks, a bit…intoxicated. He slurs, I need my tab. I say, sure!  What’s the first name on the tab?  He says, Trimble. I say, is that the first name?  He says, what?  I say, we write down FIRST NAMES. What’s your FIRST name? He says, Daniel…Dan. Alright, I say. Daniel. Thanks.

I go over to the credit cards, scan the names. There’s a lot to go over. First round, nope. No Daniel or Dan. I look again, more carefully. Nope, not seeing it. Ok, one more time. I go name to name, carefully. No, not seeing it. I turn back to him, say, I don’t think I have your card. Did you run it?  He says, I don’t think so. I call my fellow bartender over, say, did you run a tab for this guy?  Daniel?  He says, I ran his card. $14.

Ah…my fellow bartender is on it.

I say to the guy, dude. You ran your card already. We don’t have it.

He says, oh. He gets that look on his face, staring off into the distance, replaying the last few hours of his night.

He says, you’re probably thinking, man, I wish this drunk asshole would get the fuck outta here.

I say, do you have ESP?

He thinks for a moment, then says, no.

I say,

Because that’s exactly what I was thinking.

-Clint Curtis


Weekend At The Mews

Hey guys. Made a little vid about what went went down this weekend at the Vaudeville Mews. It’s called, Weekend At The Mews. I may make more of them, if you like, and I get inspired. It’s short, 2:24, so small time commitment.

Thanks for your support, and see you at the bar.

-Clint Curtis

Excuses Are Like…

I’m chatting with a musician playing tonight, place is dead, 45 minutes after doors opened. I say, what’s going on?  You got people coming? He says, I don’t know. I tried. It’s just hard to get people out early on Friday. I say, actually, I have a lot of busy early shows on Fridays. He says, well…we’re a pretty new band. I say, that should be in your advantage. You’re new, people haven’t seen you, are curious what you’re like.

He says, yeah. You’re probably right.

I say, yeah, I’m right. When I’ve had shows in the past, I make posters, paper the town. Hype it up on social media. Do interviews, get in the paper. Text people, call people. I get 100-150 people to come out.

He gets out his phone, says, ok. I’ll text some people.

You know, you spend all this time working on your music, be proud of it, and get people to come see you play. Why play if no one’s going to show up? You got family, at the very least, get them to come out, support you.

I overhear later the musician say to a guy at the bar, yeah. We don’t want to play too much. We don’t want to saturate the market.

I had to LOL at that one, looking around the room at the six people in the bar.

-Clint Curtis

JuiceHeadshot Pic

What’s Your Passion?

I’m behind the bar, it’s busy, we’ve got two different breweries in for a tap take-over. One from Des Moines. One from Cedar Rapids. We’ve done these before. They’re usually pretty successful. You can come in, try a new beer you’ve never had before, support a local brewery, all for three bucks. Always a good deal.

But all of this has nothing to do with my story.

Just setting up the scene.

I’m chatting up some of my regulars, we get on the subject of things we’re passionate about. One of them tells me, I love working on friend’s cars for free. The other says his passion is for biking, exercise.

You MUST have a passion in your life. This is ESSENTIAL for your well-being. Our passions help us get through hard times. Helps us stay focused. Our passions give us HOPE. They bring us happiness. We receive a sense of accomplishments from our passions. Without passion, we are nothing. There’s no reason to live if you don’t have a passion for something.

And it can be a little thing, like collecting comic books. I’m passionate about a lot of things. I love music, and acting, and writing, and movies, and my family, and of course, racquetball.

If you’re reading this now, and you’re thinking, what’s my passion?  It’s time you find it.

It’s something that helps you wake up in the morning, and something you think about when you’re going to bed.

But, ah…then there’s OBSESSION.

And you have to be careful with that.

-Clint Curtis