Sunday, May 24, 2009

Gabba Gabba WTF?

Random Scenes of Asshattery and Douchiness...


During a conversation outside the bar w/ a friend, recently, we were approached by a random young lady...

Asshat Chick: Hey guys, I hate to interrupt, but...

Me: ...but you will anyway, because anything we might be discussing obviously pales in comparison to what you have to say.

AC: Wha?

Me: Never mind. What can I do for you, hon? (knowing full well what was coming).

AC: (batting eyes) Do either of you have a spare cigarette?

Friend: I don't smoke.

Me: Sorry, this pack didn't come with any spares.

AC: (confused look)

Me: Seriously, I'm stuck here for a couple of hours, and don't have enough to share...but there's a store right down the block.

AC: (pouty) I'd go buy a pack, but they're so expensive here.

Me: (annoyed) So it makes more sense for me to subsidize your habit. I'll pass, thanks.

AC: (amazed) You're really not going to give me one?

Me: No, hon, I've only got a few left, and they are, as you said, really expensive here.

AC: (in a huff) I can't believe you won't give me one. You're such a dick.

Me: Well, opinions vary. For example, my opinion of you is that you're a selfish, self-entitled brat whose parents didn't use the word "no" nearly enough.

AC: (furious) What a dick! Fuck You!!!

Me: (walking towards the door) You said that already. Good luck w/ grubbing smokes from people that don't owe you a thing, though.

I stopped and spoke with the doorman before heading back inside, where I took a table near the window and front door. A few minutes later, after successfully grubbing a smoke from someone else, the Asshat Chick attempted to enter the bar, only to be refused by the doorman. She looked positively amazed. After pleading her case, he motioned to me at my table. I waved, removed a cigarette from the pack and broke it open on the table, mouthing the words "I'm a dick, remember?" and blowing her a kiss. She stalked off into the night.


1) It's rude to interrupt people

2) It's dumb to use "I'm cheap" as a reason to bum anything off people, especially when the person you're bumming from has actually paid for the item(s) you're trying to get for free.

3) It's even dumber to insult people that choose not to acquiesce and give you something just because you think you're cute/hot/smart/charming/blah, blah, blah. Please believe me when I tell you you're not/not/not/not.

Additionally, any combination of these three points not only make you an asshat, it can get you 86'ed from the bar if you do it to the wrong this case, me.


Wearing sunglasses at night does NOT make you look cool. It gives you the appearance of a complete asshat. Combine it w/ a polo shirt w/ a popped collar, and you start looking douchey.

(secret tip) The previously mentioned dark glasses are NOT camouflage for the fact that you are higher than the national debt. If you seriously think you're fooling anyone with the shades, you're dreaming.

(to the tune of Billy Ocean's "Get Out of My Dreams")

"...Get out of your dreams,

Get out of my bar..."

Also, get out of the 80's. The 80's died a horribly painful death 2 1/2 decades ago...friggin' douchebags.


If you have a drunken compulsion to pet every dog you see without checking with the dogs owner, you run a high risk of being growled at, snapped at or bitten.

If, after a dog shies from you and turns away, you smack him/her on the hind quarter, grab the tail, or do some other rough shit, you not only deserve the growl/snap/bite, I'm hoping it actually happens.

Not so long ago, Darwinism would have claimed you for trying to pet a mountain lion and subsequently being dragged into the woods, you fucktard.


My friend Jennifer took her daughter to the matinee performance given by the Broadway road company of Annie in Ontario, recently. Needless to say, there were hundreds of kids and their parents. Jennifer and Maia were fortunate to be seated behind the only two ladies slamming beers at the 3 o'clock show. The two Miss Hannigan wannabe's proceeded to get shit-boxed and bellow along with the songs. Oh, it's a hard knock life, indeed!

I'm a barman. My job is to sell people booze. Tha being said, if you're getting soused by mid-day and going to a show like this, a ballet, a museum, or anything along these lines, I have three words for you: IT's NOT NASCAR!!!

I'm not knocking drinking or NASCAR. I'm a fan of both. I won't wear my beer helmet to the theatre, however, because...well, because I'm not a douche.


Earlier in the week, I got sucked in to a conversation with a young lady that insisted Avril Lavigne was not only "punk", but "hardcore". WTF?

I tried to explain, that while I didn't feel the need to shove an icepick in my ear when her music started playing, she was in no way, shape, manner or form, punk or hardcore. She didn't get it.

Shifting gears, I attempted to give a punk rock history lesson. I gave up when she couldn't name any of the Ramones...more accurately, she couldn't name them by first OR last name. (sigh - I feel old).


  1. Matty, thanks for the nod!

    And yes: Avril Lavigne (who hails from Ontario) is about as punk as Henry Rollins is country.


  2. Thinking Avril Lavigne is punk is direct proof that drugs are harmful.

  3. I think you just have to stop talking to women. They're severely retarded. Especially drunk ones outside of bars.