weak nights

Weak Nights Brain Teaser

Here is a riddle for those who can read: A man walks into Albertsons, collects no groceries; he walks straight to the checkout line, reaches above the magazines that are about soap operas and retrieves a DVD on sale for the fair price of 19.99, plus traditional tax. The DVD is Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, starring Dustin Hoffman and Natalie Portman. The man is not mentally disabled. Why does he buy this DVD?

A: He is a fan of Dustin Hoffman

B: He is a fan of Natalie Portman

C: He is a fan of crappy whimsy

I Been There Pal

By this point in Life, you're probably looking for some sort of Guidance.  "What the heck am I supposed to do?" You might be asking yourself. Well, you're in luck.  Because I know a lot about this World.  I "get it," so to speak. I'm not like those people who don't understand things, and how they work.  The main difference between "them" and "me," is that me have--I mean, "I" have the drop on anything this topsy-turvy marble can toss at you.  When it comes down to it, we're all just spinning round and round on this big blue marble trying to make some sense of what those before us figured out.  Well, I can't tell you how this is going to end, and I can't tell you flat out what to do, but I can give you fellow travelers some hints:

Pogs
Windows XP
the name "Maleek"
Horse Shoes
Grand Canyon
Left
Ballet Folklorico
El Nino
T-shirt

The rest, my friends, is up to you.  Happy trails...

Bad Santa: Bad, Bad Santa.

For two years, Kelsey McConnell worked at a popular coffee chain.  This is her story.

He was christened Bad Santa on account of his full white beard, round belly and penchant for sweater vests. Well, sweater vest. Unlike the woman who made the entire block smell like stale urine, Bad Santa always paid. With crisp bills pulls from a manila envelope, folded and tucked under one filthy arm. And he always seemed to have enough for coffee and sometimes enough for an entire Ralph's birthday cake, which he would bring with him into the cafe and enjoy with his beverage.

One day, he came in and went straight to the bathroom. He stayed in there a long time, but we were preoccupied with a late morning rush. When the line had cleared, I handed Newbie a rag and bottle of sanitizer and told him to go spot clean the bathroom. He returned to the counter seconds later looking like a PTSD case.

His facial expression was so suffused with horror that I was convinced he had seen more than the usual bathroom grossness. So, I grabbed a co-worker and we went to investigate. We walked into the bathroom to find a thick line of blood smeared waist high around the entire perimeter, more blood on the floor and toilet and the sink filled with bloody paper towels. My coworker downed three successive shots of espresso, put on several pairs of plastic gloves and two aprons and she cleaned the shit out of that bathroom with her own mixture of sanitizer, bleach and tile cleaner.

Previously:
Just Have It Your Way, You Expletive Expletive
The Eye of the Siren

Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

PEEPTOWN - THE TRAILER!

In a town run by candy, one man stands alone...

WEAK NIGHTS UNDERCOVER

Just Have It Your Way, You Expletive Expletive

For two years, Kelsey McConnell worked at a popular coffee chain.  This is her story.

In the barista business, you come to dread the sentence, "Can I show you what I mean?" With those white cups in their eager hands, customers feel empowered to mime all manner of requests. And while their creativity is noted, it is not appreciated.

Drink orders speak to you. A sudden switch to decaf says, "I'm pregnant!" Half soy milk, half low-fat milk, one shot regular, half shot of decaf, two pumps sugar free vanilla syrup and whipped cream says, "Hey, I'm a fucking asshole."

That was the drink I made every day for a successful realtor on the Westside. She was very thin. Like Karen Carpenter thin. And when her trainer gave her the tragic news that she had gained one pound, she stormed the counter accusing me of messing with her soy to cow milk ratio.

Interestingly, [company name redacted] doesn't actually order "low-fat milk." They order non-fat and full-fat milk and to make low-fat milk, the barista combines the two in equal proportion. Adding soy to the mix does mean making a third milk recalibration. Well, Skeletor the Realtor could see that my degree had failed to equip me with the concept of thirds and she was gracious enough to make sure I got me some education on the subject.

I once heard Barry Levinson order a PA to get him "a medium, ice blended coffee, not too much mocha syrup, blended twice and scanned for large ice fragments (reblended if necessary), whipped cream on top, if it wasn't runny." I heard him say those words and thought, "that man has a very small… sense of hubris."

Fun Holiday Traditions

BRING THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON INTO YOUR WORKPLACE!

If your co-workers forget to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, pinch them!

If they aren't wearing a pumpkin on Halloween Day, scare them!

If they don't wear red on St. Valentine's Day, kiss them!

If they wear white shoes after Labor Day, step on their feet!

If they aren't wearing red, white, and blue on the 4th of July, shoot them with fireworks!

If they don't kiss you under the mistletoe on Christmas, give them herpes!

If they aren't grateful on Thanksgiving, poison their gravy!

If they don't wear a sweater on Grandparents' Day, throw them down the stairs!

If they don't see their shadow on Groundhog's Day, bury them alive!

If they don't look for eggs on Easter, boil them alive!

If they don't blow up Parliament on Guy Fawkes' Day, RAPE THEM.

No court in the country will convict you. Have an Irish day!

Peeps Go Green For St. Pat

    That's right, green is the new yellow. At least for today, these little candies are drunk and look like they might be sick. And you reader, should be too.  Happy St. Patty's from your friends at weak nights.

The Eye of the Siren

For two years, Kelsey McConnell worked at a popular coffee chain.  This is her story.

Being Irish, I can make a night out of whiskey, potatoes and spinning yarns. With the village children gathered at my knee, I tell tales of my years working as a barista at [name redacted to protect The Man]-- Tales that leave them squealing with delight, until they sober up and ask if they will suffer a similar fate after they graduate from college. And then I laugh and say, "yes, yes you will. If you major in American Literature."

But after I impress upon them that the liberal arts breed poverty, I reassure them that working at a [redacted] can be an enriching experience in its own right. From coworkers' diverse walks of life, the desires and shameful secrets of paying customers and a bathroom accessible to the mentally ill homeless, I gained enough wisdom to fill a pyramid...

The Castaway: Free Coffee and Street Alchemy.

Vagrants tend not to offer many personal details, so we baristas developed our own names for many of the homeless regulars. The Castaway looked basically like his namesake: tall and very thin, long crazy hair, clothes in tatters. I would see him walking a wide loop around the Fairfax/Melrose area, eye fixed forward and otherwise expressionless.

Without fail, he dropped a fistful of dirt and grass into the coffee that we would give him sans charge. The only day that I ever heard him say anything other than "free sample" was the day he brought in his own cup and tilted it forward so I could see that there was a small flower in the bottom. It was pretty, really, its bright yellow petals and green stem against the white of the cup.