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Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Random Absurdities
by The Angry Bouncer
Summer is finally here Minnesota. I must say, it's about time. I really don't enjoy donning a winter coat to go outside in May. Enough bitching about our god awful cold spring though. The sun is shining, and like clockwork, a new batch of morons has ended their hibernation, flocking to the 612 area code like flies to shit.
Recently, I heard a man say to another customer outside a club "You better show some respect when you in the presence of a muthafuckin' gangsta... bitch." Whoa, whoa, whoa pal. Hold on a hot second. If we were really in the presence of a ‘gangsta,' I can say with a fair amount of certainty that he wouldn't feel the need to loudly announce it to everyone around him. Take a hike ‘gangsta.' Go back to your mother's basement. And for god sake, don't forget to take out the trash.
This is always a fun one... "Umm, its like raining out here." Really? Honest to god, I hadn't noticed the torrents of rain falling from the sky. It's raining? Get the fuck out of dodge, I don't believe you. Rain? Are you serious? I can see that its raining, and I promise to get you inside, and out of the hair-deflating, makeup-ruining mess that is descending upon us from the sky. One other thing. In that I'm standing here talking to you, did it occur to you that I'm getting wet too? It's not pleasant to get rained on for me either, but your bitching about it isn't making the rain stop, or improving the situation. Quit your whining, and maybe cross Seattle off your list of places to visit.
I've encountered quite a bit of puke while working in bars and clubs. Chunky puke, watery puke, colorful puke, you name it. I've even been puked on believe it or not. Puke is disgusting, but its surprising how you can develop a tolerance to its presence. Puke I can deal with. Shit I cannot. As she walked out of the club, she mumbled, and staggered a bit. "She's done for the night," said the security personnel walking her out. "What's her deal?," I asked. "Dude, she shit herself," they responded. I was busy, and kind of blew it off. Later though, I had to ask them if they meant what they said. Had she literally shit herself? Yes, she had indeed. Really now, what kind of adult shits themselves? I could go off on a long tirade making fun of this poor soul, but I think she accomplished that all by herself.
I had a gentlemen threaten me with the mob last weekend. Upon my denying his re-entry at 2:10, he blew a fuse. He told me that "I had no idea who I was fucking with.." and that "His family in Chicago would be hearing about this." I'm shaking in my boots, really. This wasn't quite as funny as the young woman who threatened to "lawsuit my ass," but regardless, I had to laugh, and laugh I did. Loudly and in his face. This pissed him off more. Pacing the sidewalk, he made phone call after phone call. It appeared that nobody was answering. I'm not a mafia expert, but I have seen "Goodfellas" and "Casino" quite a few times, and own all "The Sopranos" dvds. From what I gather, someone who is "connected" can get a group of thugs in bad Armani Exchange shirts and excessive jewelry together in minutes if they need to put a serious ass whooping on someone. Apparently his "connection" wasn't really that strong. On the verge of crying, he screamed various threats at me. He informed me that he wasn't scared of going to jail, and puffed out his chest as far as his Hollister t-shirt would allow. Finally I had had it. I took my earpiece out of my ear and walked toward him. He backpedaled with what can only be described as greased lightning speed. I put my hands behind my back and told him to hit me. I told him if he was as tough as he indicated, and not afraid of jail, he should take this opportunity to hit me as hard as he could. He declined. What a badass, huh?
In perhaps one of the strangest responses to denying someone's entry, a young woman informed me that "You aint my daddy." I had argued with her for several minutes, and had finally had it. "I'm definitely not," I informed her, "But I doubt that neither you OR your mother have any idea who is." She left without another word.
Have a great weekend,
The Angry Bouncer
You can email The Angry Bouncer at TheAngryBouncer@TwinCitiesNightClubs.com
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