BBR, Part 2

This is a continuation from my last post….

Not really a deep thought, but I may have possibly witnessed the biggest case of Little Man Syndrome / Douchebaggery ever. Subject: male, probably 5’6” – 5’8,” shaved head, attractive face (to be honest, he was pretty hot for a little guy), dressed in trendy flannel shirt, fitted guy jeans, boat shoes, and leather necklace w/a metal pendant (think Hollister).

He shows up in the BBR all by himself, no friends in sight. To begin, he’s all over the dance floor, trying to show off his moves, smiling and winking at anyone who looks his way. Then he’s flirting w/some girl in a skanky purple tank top. Buys her a buttery nipple shot (hint: guys, if for whatever reason you ever care what a bartender thinks about you, don’t get a buttery/slippery nipple shot. You look a pansy with bad taste. We will make fun of you.). Also knocks over girl’s beer in the process, has to buy her a new one.She goes to the bathroom, he repeats ridiculous behavior on the dance floor.

Finds two girls and molests them. He starts on Blonde Friend and proceeds to dry hump her from behind, leaving Brunette Friend to dance by herself, looking and surely feeling very awkward as she watches her friend get violated. But don’t worry, soon he has roped her into the action, latching one arm around Brunette Friend so that she must dance on his ass while he continues to grind on Blonde Friend, effectively making a Douchebag Sandwich. Cute girls, very nice, I had talked to them earlier… was very disappointed in them for letting this happen. Buys them all shots and a beer for himself, proceeds to knock over his earlier beer (which was still ¾ full), looks at it, looks at me, winks, and walks away.

Somehow this threesome breaks up, and at next sighting he has reunited with Purple tank top girl. He resumes dancing with her, from behind of course so he can still eye f*ck every other girl in sight. Back to the bar, buys them both bottled beers. Lifts his to his lips, misses his mouth by a good three inches, pours beer all over his exposed chest and down his flannel shirt. Embarrassed? Nope. Grabs girl behind the head and rams it towards him, so that she can lick spilled beer off his chest. I try not to puke in my mouth. He looks at me… winks.

I get busy, lose visual contact. When I get a break, I find him again on the dance floor wrangling in new girl. Big girl (refer to last post). I realize he has a signature move: I call it Quicksand. He corrals any girl not currently dancing with another guy when she comes within his wingspan. He reaches out an arm, wraps it around the waist, and curls her in like an octopus (or what I think octopuses (octopi?) do). He is the center, his reach is the radius… get within that circumference and you’re a goner. Just like quicksand.

Anyway, he has roped in Big Girl and she seems to be enjoying getting it from behind, so much so that she gives some back. Big butt bumping into him proves too much for little guy, and he literally goes bouncing off. Bounced in the direction of the bar, naturally he comes for a drink. At this point, Chad (other bartender) have literally been laughing at and providing our own commentary on this guy for nearly two hours. I lose Rock, Paper, Scissors, and have to go see what he wants. Orders bottled beer. I can not make this up – as soon as I place the fresh beer on the bar, he once again knocks over his earlier beer.

Why keep serving him, you might ask? 1: He tips (Chad and I have already decided that based on his clothing, his attitude, and the fact that he has money, he’s probably from Shawnee Mission East). 2: He cannot be that drunk, seeing as how the beer in his hand is always at least ½ full and he continuously spills that. 3: It is a horrendously slow night (Plaza Art Fair night), we can’t really afford to turn away business when his only sign of drunkenness is foolishness, and as described above, I am quite certain that is his overriding character trait.

He orders a beer and a shot of Rumplemintz. For those of you who may not know, Rumple is 100 proof peppermint schnapps, so it's super strong. It's also delicious and tastes just like Christmas. (And in one of those cases where dumb/drunk people say something so stupid it kinda makes sense, I was once told: "It's the perfect thing to take at last call because it's so minty fresh. If you're going home with somebody, you don't have to brush your teeth. And if you get pulled over, the cops won't smell the alcohol and won't think you've been drinking." But I digress...)  The important point here is that it's also clear. So I grab a shot glass, turn my back to him and fill it with water. It's close to last call, and I've decided I am done dealing with this guy (Thursday night a guy threw up on the bar in front of me... not in the mood for a repeat). As described in the rest of this post, this guy is clearly a winner. He takes the shot, slams the shotglass down on the bar, and shakes his head like he's motorboating someone, like he just took straight well tequila. And winks, like now I'll really think he's a badass for taking the whole shot. Clearly he's convinced that I am under this impression, because instead of walking away, he leans on the bar and leans toward me. Trying not to laugh right at him, I raise my eyebrows as if to say "Yes???" He proceeds to tell me how beautiful I am and how beautiful my eyes are. Now, if I didn't already know he was drunk, this would be a clear giveaway, as I have horrible allergies this time of year and my eyes are completely bloodshot and I look like a total crackhead. Again, I try not to laugh in his face (though I do laugh, but hopefully he doesn't realize it's 100% at him and not at all with him), and mumble thank you or something along those lines. Bad move. Now he asks what my plans are after work. I tell him going home with my boyfriend and point to Chad, who is standing behind me eavesdropping, laughing so hard his face is about to turn purple. (Chad is fantastic, but all you have to do is look at us to see that we have COMPLETELY different styles, and that Chad is about 10 years older than me.) I fear this didn't work, because he grabs my hand from across the bar. He kissed my hand... winks... and walks away.

Somehow Purple Tank Top Girl is still around and has not been swept up, and they reunite on the dance floor. A little more skanky dry humping before last call and the lights finally come on. Much to my breathless delight, I get one final wink as he and girl head up the stairs. While I would have preferred to be too busy to witness any of this, if I couldn't make any money, at least I had some good laughs.

Deep Thoughts from the Boom Boom Room

So last night I was scheduled to work down in the Boom Boom Room at the Brooksider. I was pretty excited to go to work last night. For one, Thursday nights are huge at the BKS - don't asky me why, but they're almost as good as Saturday nights, while Fridays are pretty dead. For two, I don't have to go in until 10pm, all I do is stand behind the bar (no food service, no pretending like I care about a customer's stupid story or stupid food allergies.... which, PS, I'm pretty sure a lot of people say they're allergic to things just to ensure that it doesn't come out on their plate... I mean really, who is allergic to cucumbers???) Anyway, oh yeah, other reasons I love shifts in the Boom Boom Room: It's the shortest possible shift, it goes by incredibly fast, it's fairly fast paced and if it's not there's always plenty of entertainment to watch on the dance floor, and you still make good money (great money if you calculate it hourly).

It was a strange night from the start. If you've been to the lovely Brooksider recently, unless you were blacked out you noticed that there have been some major renovations going on. Most of these have taken place upstairs in the main bar area, but even the BBR feels different. There are now 2 staircases that lead downstairs, and coolers/wells/sinks behind the bar have been ripped out/moved/replaced/reinstalled, etc. So it felt kinda weird from the beginning. Cue music, and cue my deep thoughts....

1) The first guy who comes down the stairs arrives, looks around, see no one, and right on cue, says "Hey! Where is everybody? I thought this was supposed to be the Boom Boom Room. You should get more people down here.... blah, blah, blah." Yes dummy, it is the BBR, but by virtue of being the first person, no one else is down here yet! Don't ask me why, but this questions, which is inevitably asked every single night, is SUPER irritating. Chad (who I worked w/last night, has worked at BKS for 7 yrs, and is ridiculously funny) hates this part of the night so much he refuses to engage in eye contact with (and sometimes hides from) the first person down the stairs, no matter who it is.

2) White girls cannot dance. Ballet/jazz/studio dance, yes. Dance floor, pop/R&B/rap dance, no way. Again, inevitably the first group of drunk white girls to enter the BBR think that because it's relatively empty, they have full reign over the dance floor.... it makes me sad for my race. It's like watching Jerry Springer: so pathetic and sad, but you cannot tear your eyes away. What makes me even sadder is when I watch these girls and realize that a particular move looks familiar, because I have done it before.

When your brain is under the influence of alcohol, you think you look like you have rhythm and look sexy. In fact, you look like my puggle Wrigley when she stands on her hind paws and humps our lab's leg. But wobbly. And in heels. Throw in a few hair flips and it's a nightmare. Stop there?? Oh, no. The Brooksider has to go and add a giant fan. Girls, you are not in a music video, you did not achieve the slightly wind-blown look, you do not look pretty with your hair blowing all over your sweaty face, and you absolutely do not look sexy when you drop it low and body roll against the fan. STOP IT NOW! And if you insist on dancing provacatively, at least wait til after midnight when everyone else has had a chance to consume significant amounts of alcohol.

3) Liquor's expensive -- deal with it. If you want it cheap, buy it yourself and drink it at home. What's more expensive than liquor?? Red Bull. Don't get mad at me. Call your local Red Bull representative and complain.

4) The BKS has $1 draws on Thursday nights (which is exactly why 95% of the people present have showed up). Not $1 domestics, but "$1 Draws." SPOILER ALERT: it's Natty Lite. We take all the domestic beers off tap and hook Natty kegs up those taps, because otherwise, if we used only one tap for Natty, it would take us forever to fill your 9-beer drink orders and we would constantly be changing the keg, meaning the tap would be out of service even longer. You came for dollar draws, don't get mad when you get a draw that's only worth a dollar. If you really want a Bud Light, buy a bottle.

 5) Due to dollar draw night (see above), we strictly enforce our posted $10 credit card minimum. If you only want one beer, don't start a tab. It is not a difficult concept.

6) There’s a certain kind of reverse law-of-the-jungle that rules in the Boom Boom Room. The BBR is not a place for casual relaxing, political discussion, or getting to know someone of the opposite sex. It is a primal breeding ground, where young adults (and unfortunately, some middle-aged ones as well) come to hunt for a temporary mate, prowling the dance floor in search of prey to take home for the night. This is not always a bad thing, as there are rare exceptions that occassionally result in procreation and even life-long mating.

Exhibit A

With the aide of alcohol, the attractive fit girls have all been claimed by about 1am, and frequently already scooped up and taken home, as their tiny little bodies cannot handle the vast amounts of alcohol that their stalkers have poured down their throats. From 1am – 3am is when the big girls feast on the leftover meat. By this time, the males who were unsuccessful in their original hunt have drowned their sorrows in significant amounts of liquor, and have succumbed to a condition commonly known in the jungle as Beer Goggles. The mixture of all these factors results in serious, indecent, R-rated PDA. These guys (some of whom I have gone/go to school with, worked with, partied with, dated…) are gobbled up like turkey on Thanksgiving.

I’m not judging – big girls have needs too. Just commenting on a very interesting female hunting phenomenon I had never quite noticed before…

This post was inspired by Jack Handy's "Deep Thoughts," which I frequently read to stay awake during class.

What I learned today...

1. When painting over a recently-patched hole in a wall, less paint is better. Otherwise the patching mud gets wet again and starts to peel away while you're painting, which totally defeats the whole purpose of painting over a patched spot.

2. Jim Rome is really annoying. He likes to take really long pauses  and repeats himself constantly (which makes me think he's probably facebooking or tweeting mid-show - even he's not that interested in 4 hrs of JRIB).

3. The only person I encountered today who is more annoying to listen to is Professor John Ragsdale. On top of that, I have to listen to him talk about Indian law and reservations from the 1800s. 'Nough said...

4. I think the only person who pays attention in Indian Law class is the one guy who doesn't bring a computer... what a stupid move on his part.

5. Cafe Axiou (or something like that) on Oak Street right by UMKC charges you extra if you use a credit card on purchases less than $7. They should tell you that.

6. ESPN the Magazine picked the Chiefs to win our division.... highlight of my day!

7. Nick is trading in his black, window-tinted BMW (which for someone reason I find super, super sexy) for a big ugly truck.... lowlight of my day :(

Kicking the semester off right

So (surprise, surprise), 8 days into the semester, and I no longer have a perfect attendance record. I know that sounds pretty typical for me (based on the fact that I maybe, at best, had a 50% attendance rate last year), but Absence #1 happened a lot quicker than I expected it to. Whereas KU didn’t have an attendance policy, UMKC has a very strict one, where attendance is taken every day and after a few absences your grade is automatically lowered.

But it wasn’t really my fault, well…. Sort of. I only have 1 class on Monday afternoons and had been getting a bunch of stuff done around the house all day. It wasn’t until I left the house to go to school that I realized my gas tank was on empty. For those of you who don’t know, I live North of the river (approx. 435 and 152) and it takes me about 20-25 minutes to get to school. So trying to make it to school on empty wasn’t really an option. And after I leave the neighborhood (once I wind my way out past the farms), it’s all highway driving until I get downtown. And of course, it just so happens that there honestly aren’t any gas stations off the highway until probably about half way to downtown. I might have been able to make it that far, but I really had no idea and I wasn’t in the mood to be sitting on the side of the road, waiting for a cranky boyfriend (who was at home sleeping) to come bring me gas.

So I used my trusty Sprint Navigation app on my phone and it said the closest gas station (5.2 miles away) was the QT on North Oak, completely out of the way. So I speed there, fill up, and while I’m waiting for my gas to pump I again use my trusty Sprint app to see if there’s a quicker way to get downtown than retracing my steps. It told me to take 169 South and wind my way downtown, which I did. (I still have no idea if that was faster, or if I should have just backtracked and taken my usual route.)

I pull up to campus and it’s 2:28. Class starts at 2:30. As Molly can tell you, parking is not always easy. There’s a lot where I have a permit, and a church lot (where Lauren and Chris Dawson got married), one on each side of the law school. After stressing out for a minute about which one to go for (Left for permit lot, Right for church), I put my faith in God and head to church. God rewarded me with 1 single, empty spot in the back corner.

But by this time it’s 2:31. Now, I absolutely HATE walking into class after it’s started. Kinda weird considering I have no problem not going to class, but if I have to walk in late my face gets bright red, my heart starts beating fast, and I know everyone’s staring at me, which then causes me to curse myself for not choosing my outfits more carefully. And especially a class like this: only about 12-15 people, tables set up in a U and I have to squeeze behind everyone to get to my seat. So I sit in the car, thinking about all this for another 30 seconds, and decide not to go. After all that stress, all those potential speeding tickets, and wasting a favor from God, and I don’t even go to class.

Story of my life. At least I made it to that class today. But then again, I just spent the entire class writing this blog……. Whoops.