BJ=7?

I’ve always wanted to be a bartender. For one thing, bartending conflates two of my favorite hobbies:

• mocking people
• flirting with dudes

The drunker they get, the more opportunities for EITHER of the above activities. Win/win, people!

I’m one step closer to my cherished dream since I’ve been moonlighting at a local music venue. I worked the box office, and I did the lights a couple of nights, which was horrific and embarrassing and made me want to rip my face off. But really I’m just there to weasel myself into the sweet spot behind the bar.

Friday night I had a barbacking shift (or as Firecracker calls it, “barebacking”) and from the moment I stuck the metal scoop into the ice I felt like I was coming home. And it just kept getting better! I was initiated into the “Make-out Game” (trust me, if I’d been involved with the monikering of this diversion, it would sound a lot catchier), a codification of age-olde bartendery hunt-and-pursuit, in which a point value is assigned to various achievements:

• 1 point for a phone number
• 2 points for a make-out
• 5 points for a take home
• 10 points for sex
• -100 points for a pregnancy

I asked, No special points for a blowjob? Apparently not. Again, not my game, not my rules.

Throughout the night eager faces leaned forward, impatient to order drinks. Alas, each time I had to point to my two cohorts and say, “They’ll take care of you.” The one beverage I could provide was water, and once a dude tipped me $2. On a water refill! That’s the closest I’ve come so far to “PAY ME FOR LOOKING, ASSHOLE.”

Here’s something you don’t hear Left Hook say too often: “I like that.”

by Left Hook | 9 April 2007 | OTOMG | Comments