Today's List: Top Four Reasons The Bartender Will Never Fuck You

So I was enjoying a beer at my bar last night when this guy walks in...it was all downhill from there.

1) You're a cheap motherfucker. When you only leave coinage, you might as well put your genitalia in a space bag. There won't be any use for them until 2014.

2) Those witty comments you think you're working them over with aren't witty. You're not Jackie Gleason when you're drunk. You're Josh the Cross-Eyed Douche Bag. Well that's at least how you'll be referenced for the next week to her friends.

3) You hold your liquor like a fourteen year old Amish girl. They don't need 20/20 vision to see you have urine on the front of your pants or are showing anyone who will listen the scratch you just got from falling down the front steps. If it's between you or masturbating for the month, have mommy tuck you in right now.

4) If you can't sleep with anyone in the bar, who is extremely intoxicated, how the fuck are you suppose to sleep someone who is sober. That's like expecting them to pick the fat, pigeon toed kid with cerebeal palsy in kick ball. You only do it if they're related to you and if that's the case, you deserve each other.

Table for Douche, Please

The workday started to drag, so Harms and I decided to get out of the office for lunch. After some debating we settled on Chili's at the Galleria. There is something about watching the desperate housewives of Houston and truant children shopping in the middle of the day. The hostess greeted us and brought us to our table. We didn't know it then, but we were about to bear witness to the biggest douche on US soil.

The douche in question was a Ginger with full on red facial hair. His guest seemed to be a nice lady, but we never heard her get a word in edge wise. He dominated the conversation from the get go, starting off with why she was so "lucky" to be with him. She looked thrilled. He then proceeded to tell her what a "hoss" he was at the office. We're quite sure he's just the mail guy. He rounded out the conversation with the reasons behind his recent break-up. None of them were his fault of course. This might be the last time this poor lady utilizes the services of eHarmony. I thought Harms was going to bitch slap him, but luckily our attention was diverted to something else...

Harms exploited my unhealthy obsession with grey-haired men by pointing out the older gentleman sitting to her right. I slowly looked over to find what could only be described as a cross between David Letterman and Harry Potter. We waited for him to show us his wizardry, but we were denied. The check came, and I pulled the ole "I forgot my wallet" routine. Success! But Harms is the shit, and she paid for lunch. I'll get her ass next week.

If we learned anything from this, it would be...if you have red hair, don't be douche in public. And don't forget to tip your waitress.