Monthly Archives: February 2018

Men In High Heels Holiday

I’m doing some banquet bartending last night for the Black & Blue Ball, honoring cops from around the state of Iowa.  I worked it the previous year, and it was a really good experience, and most importantly, a profitable night.

Last night turned out to be another successful event.  The people in attendance were respectful, and generous.  Cops, wives, friends and families of cops.  The saddest story of the night was told by a spouse of a cop who was killed in the line of duty.  Seeing him get up to speak was heartwrenching.  I really respected how he got up, and let it all hang out, telling stories about his deceased wife, and the moments with her that made him joyful.  I can’t imagine the pain the guy went thru.  Makes you want to hug your wife and kids even stronger.

Near the end of the night, people are getting their groove on.  Always hilarious watching white people dancing.  It’s awkward, but they looked like they were having fun, and that’s all that matters.  A lot of the ladies, by around 11pm, were walking around barefoot, their high heels left at their table, or carried around by their fingertips.  I wonder when is the appropriate time for a woman to get out of those heels at a party.  Is it after the third drink?  The fourth?  I sure as hell don’t blame them.  How you ladies walk around in those heels on a daily basis is impressive.  It’s like you’re stilt walkers, from home, to office, to party, to home.  My feet at the end of the night were sore from standing 10 hours in comfortable tennis shoes.  I can’t imagine yours.

I think there should be a holiday every year where MEN have to wear heels.  Just so we could literally “put ourselves in their shoes.”  I think men would get a new understanding, and respect, for women on what they put themselves thru for fashion.  And wouldn’t it be hilarious to watch all these guys try to get around wearing high heels.  Make it in the winter time, where there’s ice, and make it extra-challenging for them.




Where’s The Wave?

It’s 8 in the morning, I’m driving the kids to school.  I stop at the stoplight on 44th, and Franklin, there’s a car in front of me, with their left turn signal on.  The light turns green, and I wave to the person in front of me, that they can go first.  She does so, then I take a right, following behind her.

We’re driving halfway down the block, and I realize, I didn’t get “the wave.”  You know, when someone is kind enough to let you go in front of them, you give them the wave.  I am a staunch supporter of the wave, and practice it religiously.  Not only will I wave, but I go as far as rolling my window down, sticking my arm out, and dramatically wave my hand, just to show how EXTRA appreciative I am for their kindness.  But with this woman…WHERE’S THE WAVE?!?  Nada.  Nothing.  WHO does she think she is, not giving the wave?  Taking my enormous generosity for granted. She may have been sitting at the light an extra 4 seconds if it wasn’t for me.  For all I know, she may have been almost late for work, and because of ME, she won’t be now.  How RUDE!

I get the kids to school early, I pull up in front of the school.  Good luck, have fun.  No dad, pull around to the back of the school, drop us off.  Why?  You got two legs, get out and walk 30 feet!  No dad, just go.

These people.  You know when I was young, I walked four miles…in the snow…

Yada, yada, yada.


Men Sharing Dessert

I’m at lunch today with my old boss Amedeo Rossi. The man of the hour, Mr. 80/35. We’re at HoQ, a “farm-to-table” restaurant in the East Village.

Our server comes over. What would you guys like? I say, I’ll have the lamb Gyro. Deo says, I’ll have the same.

C’mon, bro. We can’t get the same thing! Peeps be getting ideas about us.

The server says, you guys ok with the fries? I’m like, yeah, perfect, love the fries, but then Deo says, how about…could I get some salad?

Great. He pulls the old, I’m gonna eat something HEALTHY. I CAN’T EAT THE FRIES WHEN MY BRO BE EATING THE SALAD.

Dang it. Yeah get me the salad, too. Sheesh.

The salad comes, and, guess what?!? The salad be having BEETS in it. Homey don’t play that. Beets be super nast. I can’t even stand smelling beets, I’m out the door.

Deo, you want my beets?

He says, nah. I don’t like beets.

We eat. We talk. We’re like old grannies playing Bridge gossiping. Where dah men at?!?!

(Looks around)

Not here!

We finish the meal, our server comes over. You want some dessert? Dessert? Deo says, no thanks. I’m like, hell, yeah! I want CAKE. Bring two forks.

(Hm…is it ok for two heterosexual men to share a dessert? Fuk it. I don’t care.)

The dessert comes, and we dig in like piggies at a trough.

On my third bite, there’s a long hair in the dessert. I hold the fork aloft to Deo.

There’s………a hair.

Deo grabs the hair delicately, tosses the hair to the ground.

I ask, understandably, do we finish it?

As MEN do in this situation, we MEN shrug our shoulders,

And dig back in.




Got Tape?

I’m starting a little side-hustle, doing commercial demo reels for actors in the Des Moines area. If you live in Iowa, with stars in your eyes, you can contact me for a private coaching session for the camera.  All levels of experience welcome.  Email:

Below is an example of what I can do starring local actor Nicole Crawford.


Remembering People’s Names

I’m behind the bar, around 6ish.  Two guys sit, sipping craft beers, we get to talking.  One of them asks my name, I say, Clint.  Curtis.

Over the years, I’ve learned to say my name.  What?  What do you mean learn to say your name?  I mean this.  OWNING your name with confidence.  After conquering that feat, I’ve made it a PRIORITY to learn people’s name.  The #1 most important part of business is learning people’s names.  I would even go as far as one of the most important things to do.  If you can wake up in the morning at a decent hour, get in the shower, shave, and eat a semblance of a good breakfast, learn people’s names and you’re bound for plentiful success.

I ask, what’s your names?  They say, Aaron and Josh.  I say out loud:  Aaron and Josh.  Aaron and Josh.  Aaron and Josh.  Aaron and Josh.  Josh nods, and says, you got it.

They leave after awhile, I bartend, and it’s an absolute shitshow.  Get a pot, put in WRESTLING TOURNAMENT, add in BACON FEST with a sprinkle of two weddings and a bachelorette party, and that was my night.  Am I complaining?  HELL NO.  See previous post:  I Like Money.

The two guys from before stroll in at midnight.  They’ve had a productive night, I can see it in their eyes.  I say, what’s up fellas?  One of them says, you remember our names?  I take a moment to check my memory bank, then say,

Aaron and Josh!

Aaron says, Yes!  …Now I feel guilty.  I don’t remember yours.

Bill Clinton taught me a very important lesson, and I always love to tell this story.  When he was in his early 20’s, and met someone for the first time, he’d get out a little notepad, and write the person’s name in it.  30 years later, he’s President, and sees the guy, and says, hey Frank!  And THAT is why the guy became President.

Ok.  He did some other stuff too.




You Look Like A Musician

I’m behind the hotel bar, it’s super busy, I’ve got two bar backs, and a mgr helping me, all hands on deck.

At Chair 10, a guy sits down. In about a millisecond, I gather that he’s a musician. One that’s been in the game for awhile.

He’s skinny. Nicely casually dressed, with an eye for fashion. He reminds me of Thurston Moore from Sonic Youth. Clean shaven, with a messy head of hair in his eyes. He’s got piercing blue eyes. Oh Gosh I sound like I’m in love.

After 12 years of bartending at a rock club, I can take one look at a person, and tell if he/she is a musician. Sure it’s the way they carry themselves. It’s the way they look, appearance wise. But there’s a certain je ne sais quoi that is the tip-off.

I think every great artist/writer, when you first meet them, has a certain mysterious quality. Maybe you get the feeling they’re always holding something back. Like a secret. What is the secret?

I know I’m being watched, and I’m ok with that. It’s subtle. So in a way, when you see someone who plays music, and have played on stage, possibly they’re more AWARE of themselves, and how they carry themselves. Almost as if, once they make the stage their home, and are comfortable in the spotlight, it’s hard to let that aspect go when out in the real world. Maybe it’s not the WAY they look, their clothes, their cool haircut, but it’s the awareness that people are watching them.

I walk up to him, and say, what band are you in? Sonic Youth? He smiles, and says,

Smash Mouth.



You’re Welcome

I’m at Horizon Coffee Shop in glorious Downtown Des Moines.  I have a Caramel Latte, hang out for a couple hours doing work.  I get done, pack up my bag, grab my empty coffee cup, take it up to the counter, set it down.  The Hipster Barista with a Beard says, thanks, man.  I look at him in the eye, and say, you’re welcome.  As if I had just done this monumental thing for him.

I like to do that to people.  When they say “thank you” by rote, I like to say, you’re welcome.  As if I had just saved their puppy from being hit on I-235.  It’s a hilarious thing to do.  Especially when someone is saying the thank you, and they’re not deep in it.  So the “you’re welcome” comes off a bit extravagant.  When in the past I’ve said thank you, and someone gave me the you’re welcome, as if they’ve done this great deed, I’ve wanted to say, you know what, bud? Relax with the you’re welcome.  I just said thank you because I have to.  I could’ve picked up your damn empty coffee cup myself.




Sexual Harassment Training Trailer

Here’s something we all need to see on a Wednesday afternoon.  I recently acted in this training video, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun.  But on a serious note…um…ok, there’s no serious note.  Check out the trailer, and if you’re looking to purchase sexual harassment training for your business, contact Sollah for your very own copy.