One night a week, I stop being a paper-pushing bore and become . . . a karaoke jockey.
The bar I work at is a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, with wood paneling and dogs. Don't order the wine. No, really. And while the bartender can build you a decent pint of Guiness, most patrons drink beer imported all the way from Milwaukee.
KJing (yes, that is what it's called) requires a defensive plan. People come up to me to put in their songs, and it's my job to encourage that. Unfortunately, that also makes me approachable.
The Women:
My station is set up near the ladies room--they have to walk behind me to get there. Sometimes, if the one-seater is occupied, they choose to wait in my personal space. One regular likes to lean her head on my shoulder. Occasionally, she drools. Another regular thinks it's hilarious to rest her boobs on my arm. On one memorable occasion, a woman who was a total stranger simultaneously humped my leg and sneezed on me.
(True: The parts of your brain that are stimulated by a sneeze are the same parts of your brain that fire during an orgasm. The only part of your brain that is stimulated by a humpsneeze is the "Ohmygodmakeitstopickickick" part.)
I almost choked on my chocolate cake...so thanks for that. The almost part I mean. I'm not supposed to be eating chocolate cake and if I'd choked and ended up in the emergency room my husband would have found out and blasted me for not bringing him any! So thanks. And thanks for your blog; I love your humor!
ReplyDeleteLori--you just made my day! I'm doing a little chair dance right now. My co-workers think I'm nuts. (Also, you may want to learn how to perform the Heimlich maneuver on yourself. So that you can eat your cake worry-free.)
ReplyDeletePlay it once, Sam. For old times' sake.
ReplyDeleteNew times are good, when they don't include invasion of personal space or transferral of (ugh) bodily fluids.
ReplyDelete