The Skeeze and I tried a new place last night in Astoria. The bar/restaurant combo was still trying to figure out its identity. There were bronze Buddhas next to African drums with a Mexican menu; Euro music selected by an Indian D.J. while a Russian bartender manned the bar. Since moving to Astoria this is only the third restaurant I've tried. I'm looking for a closer alternative to my Cuban food on the Upper West Side, but I don't think it's going to happen. Next time, I'll make the trip.
I was desperate for a dirty sapphire martini. The bartender was a blonde Russian girl who was clearly new to the job; profession. I ordered my drink and she told me they didn't have olive juice. What kind of bar doesn't have olive juice? I ordered a bloody Mary instead, but I tend to like olive juice in those too, so I was ultimately annoyed. Sympathize with me here, okay? I work long, boring hours and all I wanted was a little olive juice.
I was desperate for a dirty sapphire martini. The bartender was a blonde Russian girl who was clearly new to the job; profession. I ordered my drink and she told me they didn't have olive juice. What kind of bar doesn't have olive juice? I ordered a bloody Mary instead, but I tend to like olive juice in those too, so I was ultimately annoyed. Sympathize with me here, okay? I work long, boring hours and all I wanted was a little olive juice.
There were about eight people in the bar, a fact that I noted to the Skeeze when commenting that the bartender should probably throw on a bra. It's 30 degrees outside--a temperature at which it is not okay to whore yourself out if you're not making any money. I could see if she were making $500 a night, but it was probably more like $65. Not worth it. (Yes, I'm an expert in whore economics). Same goes for a prostitute making $500 a night. She may as well be a stripper. And a stripper who is making $150 a night? May as well be a waitress... The level of whoredom should directly correlate with money made (that is, if you insist on being in the whorin' business). The Skeeze replied that she didn't get hired for her skills. Duh.
I moved onto a lamb quesadilla that I thought might save the night. Nope. It was hoof meat. Or maybe nose or earlobe meat. Whatever it was, it was cartilage. I don't really get into cartilage, especially lamb cartilage. Beef cartilage is okay, well, if you have to eat some form of cartilage.
Anyway, when the guy who was replacing the girl bartender came in, I asked if their lack of olive juice was a regular thing or just a temporary one. "We have olive juice," he said as he pulled it out. "Did you want a martini?"
I moved onto a lamb quesadilla that I thought might save the night. Nope. It was hoof meat. Or maybe nose or earlobe meat. Whatever it was, it was cartilage. I don't really get into cartilage, especially lamb cartilage. Beef cartilage is okay, well, if you have to eat some form of cartilage.
Anyway, when the guy who was replacing the girl bartender came in, I asked if their lack of olive juice was a regular thing or just a temporary one. "We have olive juice," he said as he pulled it out. "Did you want a martini?"
"Well, did is the operative word here. I don't anymore."
Whatever, the Russian and her nipples needed to close us out, because her nipples were frigid and wanted to go home. We gave them a 20% tip, but warned her that the tip was for her boobies, not for her. I know that she, like a greedy madame, kept the tip for herself.
Posts
1 comment:
Not that I would, for any reason whatsoever, require anything with olive juice, but if she pulled that shit with me she would have got nothing and liked it.
Post a Comment