I click my teeth when i'm counting my pours. Is this something new? Or have I been doing it for years now and only noticed last night...wierd.
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I also hate Cinco de Mayo. And Sangria. And Mojitos. (Two items that are not usually on our drinks menu.) I squeezed more fruit and muddled more mint leaves in one night to make up for the rest of my life. Really. I still smell like mint leaves. And, my feet still hurt.
You know how you manage to con yourself into doing something? Skydiving. White water rafting. Playing with sting rays. Wearing cowboy boots with two inch heels behind the bar. It seems like a great idea. I mean, more people die in car crashes on the street everyday. Right?
I walked out of work the other night like a bow legged cripple born without toes. Six hours into the shift my dogs were barkin. Loudly. Was it the fact that there was no cushion support sole? Or that we were crazy busy? The heel? The gallons of beer that managed to find their way down my legs and into the boots creating some odd sort of friction? And I'll tell you, no matter how cute your halter top is, especially with your short shorts--there is nothing attractive about your bartender limping around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Nor is there anything fun about bruised and swollen feet partaking in the ice then heating pack shuffle. Though I have had several offers for foot rubs...
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