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Hello.

There are stories we tell to one-up each other, and then there is this blog. Read wondrous tales of strange creatures, explore the depths of human indecency, and hopefully laugh a little as we find out what could possibly make people do what they do.

The Four Bs of My Halloween Hangover

The Four Bs of My Halloween Hangover

As I mentioned last week, Halloween is a cruel, cruel day, filled with all of humanity's greatest travesties rolled into cosplay.

Everyone walks away with slightly less stamina offset by fatter wallets. The weekend after shouldn't be bad, unless there's a full moon. And there was.

The full moon brought with it the four Bs of bar work headaches - Bachelors & Bachelorettes, Bridals and Birthdays. 

This - 0-10-03-69 - isn't a birthday of someone who is 21 years old. It isn't a number of anything, aside from a hatch on Lost.

It was repeated, along with several other wrongs, when a Birthday party bus pulled up to the curb. More on this bus later.

Bridal parties, especially ones that drop off groomsmen and bridesmaids in a hotel transport, are like giant white privilege beacons. Show up in your fancy suit and dress and walk in like you own the place. Just one problem with this thought.

Bridal parties always contain the worst period drunk period people period.

En masse.

Half of them never make it into the bar.

And the other half try to bribe me, telling me the guy who is drinking out of a flask outside the gate and can hardly open both eyes at the same time is the designated driver.

I bet he gets great Uber ratings.

And don't get me started on Bachelors and Bachelorettes.

Between fake dicks and fake chicks, pre-wedding rituals have become over-inflated.

I'll be here all week. Tip your waiter. Try the meatloaf.


Friday Fake No. 1 (269): Walla Walla Washingnone

This kid walked up and I thought to myself, "not a chance." And I was right. Now, Kevin Spacey probably thought he was too old,

but he brought his parents for backup. It was in my pocket before dad could get his defense out in the open.

Friday Fake No. 2 (270): The Long Pause Goodnight

I have a butt chin. It's not Bill O'Brien bad, but it's noticeable. And you can see it on my ID. This next minor, however, did not have one, but her picture sure did. After a staring contest, she left. Which is great news for me, because I never win staring contests.

Friday Fake No. 3 (271): Shame! Shame! Shame!

This ID has it all, bad photoshop, the feeling of a Fisher Price plastic table, poor holos, an address to an empty field, and not a single date matching another.

Friday Fake Nos. 4 & 5 (272 & 273): Nothing More Than Meets The Eye

Even an Allspark wouldn't have transformed these two into the right combination of human shown on the ID.

Saturday Fake No. 1 (274): I know what 30 is in Spanish

You know, I'm not dumb, despite appearances. So when a small woman tries to coach her friend what to say, in Spanish, I could pick up what was she was saying. Because I heard it.

In Spain.

Too bad the woman behind me was still wrong. First answer 28 was too young. The second answer, Treinta, was too old. And then after the sixth time, she says treinta the first woman steps out from behind me, obviously realizing her mistake.

"That means 29. She was saying 29."

"No, treinta means 30. She was saying 30. It's not 30. And she's not 30."

They stuck around for 45 minutes. 

Saturday Fake No. 2 (275): Birthday Bonanza

Was it 1995 or 1996? Or 1993? Yes, 1993, or was it 1994? Or was it in June or July? 

It is likely she still doesn't know.

Saturday Fake No. 3 (276): Almost Heaven, West Virginia

Younger than the mountains, yes. Older than the trees? Not quite.

Saturday Fake No. 4 (277): Law Abridging Citizen

Shows Indiana ID

Has teeth in photo

ID goes into pocket

"They changed that law."

"They did not change that law."

Leaves immediately

Saturday Fake No. 5 (278): Fight and Flight

Remember that party bus from way back when? The birthday one. Well, it came around to pick up the guests, and Fred. Who is Fred? No idea, but he stayed with us the whole night.

The bus loaded and unloaded loaded passengers until one prospective bussenger decided to call out an interracial couple. He was promptly beaten down so hard his beanie popped off his head. And then the beaten and bloodied man came over to me and said, "I got you on cocaine charges!"

And within five minutes everyone around me, all 25 people, were gone into the foggy night.

I was not picked up on cocaine charges.

In case you were wondering.

WOW. So much to unpack there I almost forgot about the ID. During all the commotion a kid tried to pass off a fake Ohio. He was all sly, too.

"I'll just slide right through ... oh, I didn't know anybody worked here."

Brass Knuckles, Butt Chins & Bosnian Murderers

Brass Knuckles, Butt Chins & Bosnian Murderers

The One Where Bob Ross Gets Trashed

The One Where Bob Ross Gets Trashed