Posts Tagged ‘Girls’

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Breakfast server here: Today two broke ass looking girls got sat at my table. I grab the coffee pot assuming these ratchets are going to need some caffeine. As I approach the table mess #1 says to mess #2 “I went in to wake you up this morning and you had a condom draped across your throat like a necklace. There were no boys in the house last night, what were you doing?” I tried so hard not to laugh as I asked if they wanted coffee.


Me: “Will you be having dessert this evening?”

Old Man: “I was going to ask for sex but I assume that isn’t on the menu….is it?”

Me: “Just a minute, I’ll ask our 6’5″ chef Hugo if he’s got any in the back.”


That awkward moment when you whip out your black book to pay at the bar instead of your wallet and you pay in all ones and the bartender looks at you like you’re a stripper….


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16 types of drunk chicks

(6 single WOO Girls) + (47 sugary shooters) = me the bartender spending an extra hour after my shift cleaning up their puke


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This 40 year old balding guy last night said, “you have very pretty eyes” I said, “thanks” he replied, “that’s just the first thing I said, not the first thing I thought.” then he gave me this creepy wink. I had other servers go to the table the rest of their meal! What a creep!


Was working at a restaurant. Kid and father come in. Kid has a hot dog (our hot dogs were not the greatest). Kid asks for a balloon. I bring both the balloon and the hot dog. Excited kid wants to be able to hold both, so the dad ties the balloon to his–the kid’s–wrist. Kid eats the hot dog and projectile vomits all over the table, the booth, the floor, and (importantly) the balloon.
Dad cuts the balloon off the kid’s wrist, takes the kid to the bathroom. While they’re doing their thing, the balloon starts drifting, dripping vomit on other tables and nearing a ceiling fan (uh oh). So I grab the balloon and say, Hey, I need to deflate this, so I also grab a fork.
Let me pause here to say that my concentration face, when doing a meticulous task, involves a slightly open mouth.
I’m a genius, so I grab the skin near the nipple of the vomit balloon between my fingers and try to puncture it with the fork to let the air out slowly. The balloon popped, spraying my agape face with hotdog vomit.


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