Tuesdays are pretty much my nothing day, by which I mean to say even more nothing than my other days. Grocery shopping replaces my morning walk, and that’s not a lot to blog about. Well, I did catch the scamming bastards not honoring the posted sale prices once again. These days I keep all the items that are marked down on the shelves in one place in my cart and watch as the cashier scans them. And sure enough, the full price rang up on all of them. It just seems to me this must be intentional. If you can make a big deal out of posting signs on the shelf showing the discount, you can sure as hell update the price in the scanner database. It pisses me off, and I’ve been warning my fellow Royal shoppers.
I came across an article confirming that when I say “y’all,” I speak the King’s English. Just wanted y’all to know that in case you were thinking I was just some cracker spouting redneck talk. Just sayin’ that dawg won’t hunt. Alrighty then, I’m fixin’ to let go of this subject and move on now.
Today’s Facebook memories carried me back to the final year of my working life.
I’m not sure what to make of this:
Saw this flower on today’s hike, and it reminded me of something.
Speaking of hiking, Scott shared a handy color code we can use when deciding on which trail to take.
Alright, this post isn’t totally without substance. I attended a birthday party yesterday at Alley Cats bar for owner Dean. I’m not going to try and sort out the pronouns, she was born a female, so I’ll say she and her. Knowing Dean, she won’t be offended. It’s been months since my last visit to Alley Cats, as I’ve had no reason to go since retiring from playing darts. But Dean messaged me an invite to her party, and I appreciated that. I’d been going to the bar three days a week (at least) for over four years, and she is the first person who even bothered to check in with me. That’s the difference between bar friends and real friends in a nutshell.
I guess I got a little forward and asked the waitress if she would give me some head.
A dart tournament followed the party, but I did not stay for that. Headed up the highway to a relatively new bar called Sloppy Joe’s and had a couple of beers there. I’ll do a Bars of Barretto review tomorrow.
I finished my night at Queen Victoria, where I met an Irish girl.
Bedtime rolled around, so I made my way back home. Alone. As usual. I’m thinking it is time to change my luck. We’ll see how that works out for me.
Time to shower up now and get ready for another night on the town. Those girls at Hideaway Bar aren’t going to feed themselves. That’s because they know I’m coming.
Her name is literally “Irish”? Interesting.
Hope you had fun chomping down on that pig’s head.
Birfday food all looks good. Happy Birfday to Dean!
Even in that old photo, you were doing that weird puffy-lips thing even back then. Reminds me of those photos of bee-stung dogs.
Interesting how the color-code chart has no color for “dangerous.”
That pie-vent meme is hilarious. Reminds me of Dane Cook’s joke about how he doesn’t like women who are too “lippy.” Too much flesh down there reminds him of a middle-schooler in a school play struggling through all those curtains to get onstage.
Feedin’ the girls tonight? Y’all have fun!
Yep, and she insists it is her given name, not a bar name (a lot of the girls use fake names at work).
I think I only do the lip thing in selfies…it takes all my concentration to reach out and touch that button.
Tragically, the designer of the chart was killed in a hiking accident before he could complete the “dangerous” color code.
A lot of girls use fake names at work. Like a stripper?
So this is a performance 👏 in a way.
Now don’t I feel stupid for thinking that Irish likes me for who I am.
Did the other shoppers understand your warnings about this new scam that you’ve discovered?
I hope you don’t find too many aggravating things in your daily life abroad or else you may as well be like my uncle Tom in Ohio .The man is irritated by everything from teens playing music too loud, to kids being quiet when they play.
Speaking of teens, can young people get into bars there? Or at least restaurants where alcohol is served.
Good on you.
You’re really trying with this non-binary thing, trying your best to use the correct pronoun even if you don’t fully understand this. And happy birthday 🎂 to your friend. Glad that you do have friends who remember you even if you haven’t visited in a while, that might jolt you back from the girls with their bar/stage names and bar personas.
Cole, even in the regular bars (meaning no takeout), most of the girls don’t use their real names (I find this out when I know them well enough to become Facebook friends). I’m not sure why this is, but I’m guessing they don’t want their family to know they are working in a foreigner bar, which apparently has some stigma attached. But I’m sure Irish really does like you!
Yeah, I’m developing the grumpy old man syndrome, too. But the irritations are minor, and I get over them pretty quickly. At Royal, I just watch my groceries being scanned; that’s what I’ve advised the other shoppers to do as well.
18 years old is the legal drinking age here. I occasionally see minors in the bars (especially where there is food) with parents, and no one seems to object. I don’t think there is a law against it.