everyone has to have a dream

Ten days and no new posts? For shame, for shame. Well, I have some excuses, starting with the fact that not a whole lot has happened. Last weekend was soul-crushingly slow -- usually The Bar is packed to the gills on Friday and Saturday nights, and I walk with at least $120, which, some nights, is not even close to the kind of compensation one would normally expect for having to walk back and forth through a colossal knot of total assholes with a knocked-over appletini festively splashed, Pollock-esque, all over my shirt. Those fuckers are stick-ee.

Ugh. I also got stiffed the other night on a hundred-dollar tab, which I am still not quite over. Seriously, dudes, it was like four percent. The only time I could see stiffing someone that badly as being remotely acceptable is if there were issue after issue after issue, and bringing those issues up with my server got me nowhere. Then maybe I'd do that. But I gave them great service and that's some bullshit.

Also, two nights ago, I was outside The Bar at around midnight, having a cigarette and minding my own business, when this teeny-tiny white dude starts talking very earnestly and very, very cluelessly to my friend Ryan about his "underground political hip-hop collective." Ryan, who fronts a local oi band, was playing enthusiastic: "Oh man, that sounds awesome! Let's put a show together!" I was trying to ride out the tail end of a monster hangover, so I was not in the best of moods, and I guess the effort of not laughing openly at/bitch-slapping this pint-sized dork-on set my mouth in kind of a grimace. So his little rat-faced friend, who had asked me for a light earlier by miming flicking a lighter (which I studiously ignored), looks at me and says, "You have kind of a poo face, don't you? Like, when other people are talking about their art, I bet you always just get that look on your face like you're smelling shit." I just looked at him for a long, long time, not saying a word, until finally I just said "I could give a fuck about your retarded little band. I'm really fucking hung over and right now I'm just concentrating as hard as I can on not throwing up all over you." Not my best, but I suddenly didn't have the energy to methodically tear down this kid's self-esteem. Like, had I the time and inclination, I would have really tried to break up their "collective," which, as far as I could tell, was comprised of three twenty-one-year-old car-wash attendants. They're not exactly a commanding presence in the Seattle political hip-hop community, I'm guessing. Anyway, when we got back inside, Ryan turns to me and says, "Oh fuck, if that dweeb ever calls me to try to set up a show, he's gonna get shut down so hard." Lena and Ryan: Crushing annoying white kids' dreams since 2007. Maybe we'll start calling ourselves an underground dream-crushing collective.