Mansplaining! What would your pretty little head know?

Aw, you should’ve drunk the Old Style! You could’ve imagined yourself at the bar in my grandmother’s basement.

I have actually always wondered if there was enough ammonia in urine to do that. Thank you! Glad your Mom made it out of there okay.

It’s funny, the “kid” story got me thinking about a customer we had at the Ahwahnee one summer in the kitchen.

“That’s how you learn English, kids: through shame and humiliation.”

Well my email isn’t opening up for some reason or I’d send you this one..so I’ll just share here. It’s long but worth it, yall.

I was at a Bob Evans several years ago with my grandfather, who paid the bill by giving the money to the waitress, even though you’re supposed to bring the receipt up to the register. (This happened all the time apparently because this is a retirement community in Florida.) The waitress, who has been great, goes to…

My mom did it in the toilet bowl once. By urinating on a bowl full of bleach. She sat down, started to feel ‘bad tingling’ after a few seconds, and luckily was aware enough after the fact to flush quickly and run the overhead fan.

Yeah, she does sound like a bit of a snob. Sure, it is silly that he didn’t know what neat meant, but being that way about ‘whiskey’ is silly.

As an aside, I do like my scotch neat, and I do run into bartenders at times that do not know what neat means. Never bothers me to let them know how I want it.

Does it count if I say that I don’t see what’s so hilarious about ordering a virgin margarita, even if you call it a “kid’s margarita”? I would expect that to be a normal thing at most restaurants that serve margaritas. Of course, that doesn’t detract from the point/punchline of the story at all, but I don’t get why…

Christ, thank you. The bartender was dumb for not knowing “neat” but the customer just looks like an ass for trying to look fancy by ordering his drink neat (because, that’s how the true connoisseurs drink it) and then not knowing that both bourbon and Scotch are whiskeys.

We gays only see movement. When straights stand still they become invisible. Also we don't have object permanence.

Same with Old Fashioneds as well - brandy, not whiskey. There is a supper-club-saluting bar/restaurant on the Capitol Square in Madison called the Old Fashioned. (And when I was a kid, my mom’s go-to drink was a Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet, made with 7-up instead of sour mix.) I’ve also read that Wisconsin drinks more…

My dad (and probably the whole state of Wisconsin) disagrees. Manhattans are made with brandy. Though one time outside of the state, he ordered a brandy Manhattan and got a glass of brandy.

I’m pretty sure calling in dead is a Massachusetts thing, because I’ve seen it happen at two very different jobs.

That meatball story is a textbook case of sexual harassment, as legally defined. No tip.

The soup of the day is usually Hitler miss, but I’m sure you’ll just Goebbels up today’s gestapo soup.

My first job was at a restaurant where all the employees were kids from my high school. I was the dishwasher. We still employed the three sink system, meaning I was adequately shackled with the proper “Work is Hard and It Sucks, But Goldurnit it Was Much Harder In MY DAY” attitude that has helped me successfully and…