How To Behave at a Bar by Susie's Favorite Bartender

Since I think it's only my parents, Stacey and Ben who actually read my blog, it may be silly linking to this. However, Ben is easily my favorite bartender (and the only person at work who knows this blog exists, otherwise I'd keep my big ol' mouth shut), not only because I consider him a very nice friend, but also because he's a great leader and does his job extremely well. And always with a smile. And that shit's harder to do than one might think. (Especially if you're sitting at a desk and thinking to yourself, "I smile!". Doesn't count. Sorry!)

I don't think my parents go to many bars. Although, they could very well have a secret retired life I don't know about. And I certianly approve of their behavior when we do get to go out to any sort of establishment (well, my dad does flirt A LOT. I think he may just be using his age to his advantage. Although, again, I could see him doing this THROUGHOUT his life. Dad, you're crazy (he always says it's women "under 7 and over 70" who like him. But ALL my mom's friends (between 7 and 70) love him. Wait a minute. So do MY friends! Geez..that's one smooth fella you picked up, Ma!))

ANYWAY. (Susie, stick to a subject, for God's sake!) Ben's Rules on Bar Patronage will be helpful to many-a-asshole. And, no!, I'm NOT saying Stacey or my parents are assholes! Quite the contrary. I do, however, believe that you are the only four who read my blog. And I'm OK with that. I quite appreciate it, in fact.

Maybe I'll go scan some pictures of Ben, Cassie and me. We had fun a couple nights ago at Union Pool in Brooklyn. I may still be recovering. Or, I may just be really really cranky. Which is a distinct possiblity.

I think I'm cranky because there is 100% ZERO adventure in my life. My fault? Must get resolved, real quick-like. Crankyness is a theme that I really hope doesn't last. Like I hope it ends tomorrow. It's boring and it must be mildly boring to read. Thanks for sticking with me.

PS Mom, I need to come back to MN and scan all those old photos before they get cracked and die. By now they're almost 10 years old. 9, I know, but 10 is more dramatic.