Sleep deprivation is like drunkenness


I love that hilarious concept: that running for hours and hours and hours, studying for hours before, and sleep was a vague tossing and turning attempt to snatch some “zzzs”

I don’t have much sleep under my belt but it’s better, so I figure I’d double check this post barely remember writing and I see three things: (1) I screwed up explaining the payout system, but, whatever. (2) My image link is no longer extant for how bad the drama was. (3) I didn’t even include a freakshow! And I totally had one! Oh, and I was so sleepy I didn’t even realize I had a fourth (4) screwup: my link wasn’t done right for the Christina Perri music video. So in descending order, here they are:

(4) 

How chilling, this “jar of hearts”. Can you imagine the last abusive ex or douchebag or cheater and how they screwed up your life, stealing your heart and putting it into a “jar”? What does one do with that jar of conquests, a bloodied trophy of ice cold steel manipulation and burning anger and passion? Does one leave it on her dresser, or does he put it in the bank? Does it go on the mantelpiece or on top of the TV? Does he describe it at dinner parties: “and this is a beautiful set I collected in college….those girls never saw it coming?”

Does this make sense to anyone?

(3) Featured Freakshow

Some guy named Bob. OK, his pseudonym is Bob. Apparently he’s a new bartender at the Pub. Not anymore.

I’m an excellent judge of character. I can tell when someone is just bad, it’s a vibe and a smell. This guy was bad and wasn’t good for us.

First, he didn’t know what was in a Royal Flush. I know my area’s version, the classical version AND the official version from the Crown Royal website and seminars, thanks to Eiffel. And he’s been doing this for 20 years.

Second, he’s not fast nor is he high-energy. He spent time schmoozing three people who came in to see him. I schmoozed the entire bar and then some and Eiffel and I made stupid money last night.

Third, he’s dumb. He’s hunting for tabs and acting like he knows what he’s doing in the computer, screwing stuff up big time. I’m repeating three times that cocktails are made in 11-12 oz glasses, not the 16-17 glasses, unless one requests a TALL. And you’re screwing up my KM’s post-shift cocktails buddy, better steer clear.

Fourth, he is a shitty tipper. Like 40 cents on 100+ $ tab last week. Eiffel ragged on him all night for that. He spent the night making excuses and then got called out on it, repeatedly because Eiffel isn’t dumb.

Fifth, I couldn’t go behind him anymore and fix his mistakes, deal with his dumb questions, or work around a lack of common sense. He was dragging me and Eiffel down badly. I essentially had to do a “Peach, get him out of here”. He’s gone and is told to call back “sometime next week” and she’ll talk to him. He doesn’t work.

(2) Last night was a five car pileup.

It was bad.

This is how had the “everyone gang up on Peach” meeting was.

(1) Screw the payout system.

Love y’all!

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About Malachi the Drink Slinger

Finally transferring to that four year school in January, my goals made, my life set, the blinders dropped, my past signed and sealed, my future bright and airy, a writer, a thinker, a feeler, someone who is enthralled by beauty, an artist worth slightly more than two shits, a lover, a fighter, a person on the way to become the person I have always wanted to be....

2 comments

  1. I’ve heard this song before, but never knew who sang it. Chilling is a perfect word to describe it. Unfortunately, all I’ve ever dated are guys who have a jar of hearts. Douchebags.

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