Tavern Wench

U2, February 2002. There wasn't a dry eye in the house after Bono ripped open his jacket to reveal Old Glory.
It takes a lot to make a bartender emotional.

I would have loved to continue this blog, but technology got in my way the same way that it served as a blessing, at the time. Things catch up on you. Bosses find out. Shit gets real.
You can find my daily rants on Twitter, but I realize it's not the same. I hope to get back, one day, to telling anonymous stories and spinning delightful yarns about my guests. But, in the meantime, and yes, it might mean forever, I just can't blog...

Humor me...
So, like any other wide-eyed baseball-loving optimist, I entered the Cincinnati Reds post-season ticket-buying opportunity raffle lottery with the highest of hopes. Whatever it was, it was a chance at buying seats to watch my beloved Reds in the playoffs...

While walking to work, I stumbled upon a shiny object, and, being human, picked it up. Turned out to be a homemade DVD of some sort, titled, "Oil Dat Fat Ass Up." I shit you not.
Tagline could've used some work, but, to be fair, I have to compliment the graphic artist. Wish I'd snapped a photo of it before one of my coworkers (immediately) snagged it from my hands. Coulda, shoulda, woulda....