Texan asshole bitchass cunts

I awoke to gray skies on a thursday afternoon when I had to work. While I love gray skies, I was always displeased at a week of sunlight and the rainy lovey clouds came when I had to work and be stuck in a kitchen where I could not enjoy them.

I g o t t o w o r k to find out that I was to not answer the door and hide in the kitchen more avidly as my boss was running errands and the TABC was out to get us. Apparently they don't believe we sell enough food and for some reason that's a problem (oddly enough). So I take note that if I use the bathroom and they are pounding on the door to hide back there till they leave.. Or more what I would like to do is crawl behind the bar and dart, crouched, in to the kitchen and resume work. I always try to finish up pre-preparing the sandwiches and weighing out the cheese before she gets back so I can relax in my empty bar and do as I wish before she arrives, hell I could grab a little shot of the beer we have on tap, though I never do, just as I never finish in time. I always want a drink when I can't or shouldn't have one.

S o n o t h i n g came about while I was at work in the kitchen, flipping between random alternative music stations, acoustic stations and ocassionaly the 80s brit channel, finding decent music on satelite radio; untill a phone call came in. While I have been answering the phone with this TABC business I did not. The message sounded rather important, I heard voices clutter in the background untill a man named alfred something announced he was calling and that it was very important that my boss or someone representing the bar called back. I told her about this when she got back, though she chalked it up to telemarketers and never listened to the message.

At about a quarter to six we thought we had a TABC spy so we started asking everyone if they wanted to so that we could encourage them to eat so we looked like we sold more food. Let me tell you we have slow ass days where i might do 5 orders in the 6 to 8 hours I'm there, other times I'm thawing chiabatta bread to make a sandwich we're out of at the same time I'm weighing out cheese for another cheese board, so I find this un humourously rediculous. We give a regular at the bar near him a free finini. His name is fin and it's his custom sandwich only he gets. we get my father to order something also, cause he just got off work and popped in. We find out he isn't a spy, though I knew he must have been. We slow down, I can read slackjaw a bit more, when I need to wash some glasses. I take them out to dry them and put them away when the supposed spy calls someone and tells them about the town population, some of the food, how he loved our olive dip and the great selection of wine; then going on to claim there were 100 people in there when there was maybe 20. It's a small bar with a limit of 35 to 40 people at one time and even with 25 there's not much place to sit.

I t e l l m y c o - w o r ke r a bout the call and I thought he was ecstatic over this place, while still wondering about his motives. She says he probably was a spy and to tell bosslady. So I tell her and she comes to the conclusion that he must have been a friend of an agent as to not give way to the motives, because cops, TABC agents, FBI and CIA agents(I would imagine) have too hard a time being normal to act the part.iwasright. My father an ex bar bouncer cannot go to a bar without scanning it and judging people on if they need to be barred or not.

My dad left early as to not get to big a tab, kindly enough asking me if I was going to the Saloon, which I replied "nah" and added that Joe's first solo show was going to be on saturday if he wanted to go with me then. He agreed that saturday would be amazing and he'd rather do that than tonight.

At about 9:30 Joe got there after a long night at the hair place and decided to tell me a funny story I will save for later. He asked if I had a smoke and Fin and his piece of shit buddy smoked the last of my rolling tobacco without giving me a cigarette in return, so I ask my co-worker if I could grab some of my tips and run next door. I could. So I run to the grocery store which is literally next door and go to get some. They're our of bugler and so we look in the case for something else. There was this awesome bourbon tobacco, but it was for pipes. thats it, I want a pipe. I've wanted one forever and now it's time to get one. So I jog over to the shell right next to it and get some there. Return, roll two cigarettes and light up. Joe showed me pictures on his cell of the girl he's been getting friendly with, who he thought he'd never date again. He showed me old pictures of him and various things. My co-worker said I could shut the kitchen down, the boss had left briefly to feed her dogs at her house. So I close the kitchen in about 20 minutes, get everything cleaned up and scrubbed down. Joe told me I should come the saloon and that he was going to play that night, it was open mic night. So I leave the bar before him go and head down there.

I g e t a n i c e q u i e t table and then Pat comes over and starts talking to me in the middle of reading slackjaw, so I put it down and respond. We sat for 20 minutes maybe, I was waiting for Joe he was getting ready to head off. Joe arrived and went to a table in back with some friends. I sat there and mildly enjoyed the band for a few minutes, rolled two cigarettes and went to ask Joe for a light, as he had jacked my lighter in my bar. They mostly cleared out so I sat down and talked with Joe. He was about to leave and quite literally had a cookie for me to try that his friend had baked. So I gave him a ride to his car which was 5 blocks down and I got the cookie and headed home. For those that don't know I live on my parents ranch but in a different building, so I called them to let them know I was on my way, in case I hit a deer or a racoon jumped in to the underside of the truck... Or god forbid some helpless drunk idiot wandered out in to the street by the longhorn and I hit him and was in jail for involuntary manslaughter(these things come in to your mind in a town like this with a bar like that). I drive home in a beautiful 74 degree night(we've been having 108 temps with 90 degree nights). I get home all is asleep which I realize is why my father had answered the phone. I take my dress shirt off and leave it and grab my newely arrived Jim Knipfel book and make the walk to my house, while grabbing brews for me, my sis and my girl who is living with me.