Wazzup rude boiz and girls,
Since I last blagged (obvi the past tense of wrote here), I thought my life was falling apart mainly because I kept losing my phones due to alcoholic tendencies. Well, today I realized I might be ruining my life due to myself being a complete and total dumbass. No seriously…^^that is me, albeit it with uglier hair and a wider ass. ^ needs to meet an elliptical, amiright ladies?!
Anyway, here is what prompted these nagging questions: In my stress of deciding to find a summer job, I turned to Craigslist – the ultimate website of pedophiles, stolen iPhones (hey, maybe mine is somewhere there, being sold for 400 pesos!?!?), and bazillions of real, authentic job postings…or so I thought. One in particular struck my eye: “SoBe Bartenders – take a $100 class and become a bartender in the party city of the world!” Doesn’t that sound good? Almost too good to be true? Like seriously, I just take a simple class for $100 and I can work at Liv or Mansion and charge some poor chic’s unborn child for a drink? Holllaaaaaa. I promptly jumped in my beat up leased Toyota Corolla (’12…keepin it soooo classay) and hurried to 1234 Washington Ave, South Beach, Miami.
As soon as I walk in, I feel the sand beneath my toes. Not even joking. The small two room business was modeled after a freakin tiki hut. Some Bob Marley ripoff band was playing in the background, and Christmas lights decorated the place like my old fraternity had just used the joint for a Christmas/Easter party. The only thing missing in the room was the smell of alcohol…my finely tuned nose immediately honed in on the imposing faint queef smell of water and food coloring posing in hundreds of liquor bottles. But what the hell – there was some quasi cute guy sitting in the desk, probably thinking “who the fuck is this jew and what does he want with my liquor!?!?” (he was only 1/3 correct).
I introduce myself, babbling on about how I ‘need a good summer job’ and ‘I love meeting people’ and ‘I’ve always wanted to bartend in SoBe’. To him, I just became a bunch of $$$$$$$ dolla dolla billz. Which is why he quickly asked me if I had the registration fee – $100. Naturally I beam at him and exclaim “why of course sir! I’m just so happy this class is affordable – as a [job that pays less than Honey Boo Boo can count to], I can’t afford much more!” In hindsight, the look of disgust/horror/$$$$$$ dolla dolla billz in his eyes should have clued me in to sign #1 that this mighhhhtttt not be legit. Nevertheless, as he tried to explain to me that the class actually costs $495 after a $300 discount I’m sure he invented to lure me back in, all I could think about how cute his face was (not his body!!!!) and how it might be worth it if I can make this money back in a week working on SoBe, where half coked out bartenders can make $2000 in tips in a NIGHT just for opening up some gross bottle of Ciroc for a flash in the pan rapper *cough cough 2chainz*. So, I was like, what the hell….I’ll just
dip into raid my enormous meager savings and pay him. In 2 weeks I’ll be a bartender and making so much money Rihanna would have to write the sequel version to “Pour it Up” in memory of me.
So for 6 days, T-Fri and the following T, I worked 7 hours and then sat from 6-10pm learning the ins and outs of bartending in sobe. Except they sounded eerily familiar to how bartending in college was, sans the fact that people actually..had $$$$ dolla dolla billz. It didn’t help that the people in my class a) must have never ordered a freakin drink in their life or b) were so perpetually fucked up on sobe drugs that their short and long term memories were completely malfunctioned so they thought a rum and coke was something the Romans snorted before war. I WAS SURROUNDED BY MTV REALITY SHOW REJECTS. But whatever…that $2000 was a mere weeks away, and I thought that my vast knowledge of alcohol would impress the teacher and he would hire me away to be a bartender with him and then propose and then id be rich and then…..never mind completely jk.
Then today happens. After fighting the insane traffic to get into Sobe and inhaling 4 cigs in the process, I smelled enough of cancer and looked like a homeless kretin from Israel that I knew it was going to be a bad night. That is, until I show up and MY WHOLE ENTIRE CLASS OF MTV REJECTS IS SITTING ON THE CURB yakking about how there was no class tonight because “the business was evicted today”. I’m not even fucking joking. Yesterday, our cute faced ugly body teacher was telling us Wednesday would be the night of “mixology – I’ll bring in ingredients and make everyone drinks while showing how bartending is a beautiful mix of creativity and drugs”. What he should have said is Wednesday will be the night “your plans of being a rich brat in Sobe this summer comes crashing down as you realize in 7 seconds that I swindled you $595 and made your life even more pathetic than you thought possible”.
Naturally my reaction is to light up another cigarette and contemplate whether the better choice now would be to jump in front of the next taxi promoting Madonna, the naked womens’ clubs, and sue those dirty whores for breaking, not caressing, my bones OR turn around and drive home amid a faceful of tears and beg my parents to help me out this summer because I got swindled on Craigslist. However, I didn’t choose either.
Stay tuned – as tomorrow we will find out if my choice (AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE PART OF THE ENDING BLOG THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO READ MORE TOMORROW) is smart, or if I am actually missing a few brain cells from 6 years of amazing partying. Until tomorrow lovvaaaaahs.