Thursday, April 12, 2012


             I just watched Bridesmaids. Pretty hilarious. Then on every other billboard I’m seeing advertisements about Lena Dunham’s new series Girls, all about a group of relatively attractive women who continually make mistakes and wonder why they are unhappy. Jesus, Lena, hang out in Brooklyn much? You could bottle the amount of livid dissatisfaction I hear from women around here. And the whole Bridemaids thing was spot on. Ever participated in a wedding? Women go CRAZY. There is more neuroses, madness, moodiness, insecurity, perfectionism, and good old fashioned bitchiness involved in the average wedding to fuel the next two world wars.
            It just seems to me that there’s big business these days in ‘women behaving badly’. And what are the twelve year old girls supposed to look up to? Fucking a Vampire? Dying in a Hunger Game? Nobody wants their daughter to be Lohan-ed.  
            So now that pop culture has given women permission to not only be assholes, but be raging, greedy, power hungry, dismissive, slutty assholes, it’s time for a Bartender Knows Public Service Announcement. As a child of a matriarchy, yes, actually spawned by women who are not only beautiful (we don’t so ugly women in my family) but successful, fair and firm in their opinions, and intellectual and ambitious enough not to just live only to drink, fuck, and complain (and in Williamsburg, get tattooed), I've got an interesting perspective on said topics.
This week’s topic is merely what intellectuals would call a ‘literary critique’ regarding observations this Bartender has noticed over the years behind the bar about the ‘fairer’ sex.

            STOP SHOPPING
I mean, buy shit if you need it, but not only has your gender been systematically taken over by fashion magazines, television commercials and cosmetic companies, but now I actually hear women defending their own enslavers.
“Shopping makes me feel good”. Yeah, honey, so does heroin, but it doesn’t mean we should do it! Other notable things that feel good: Unprotected sex, binge eating, cocaine, excessive drinking, hundreds of nameless sexual partners, bar fighting, habitual marijuana abuse, talking shit on others, etc, etc. This does not mean we should participate in these activities, and ON TOP OF THAT convince those around you that it’s a good thing. I mean, hell, most of my friends do all of the above, but at least we KNOW it’s bad.   
Fashion is the most self-aggrandizing, vacuous, shallow, competitive, vain and pointless thing that has ever been spawned upon this fine Earth. I’m not hating on theatrical costumes, film wardrobes, or any other of the creative arts, but the insistent concern over ones looks is absurd. Let me paint you a small logistical diagram. Shopping means forgetting your troubles. So you buy shit. Then you barely wear that shit. Then you’re upset again, feeling ugly and fat, so you buy more shit, playing right into the hands of the money-makers, guilting you back into spending your cash on bullshit. Buy a book. Buy a camera and take rad pictures of ponies or trees. But giving your money over to exactly the people that fuck your own gender up is psychotic.  
There are women I know with hundreds of pairs of shoes. That can’t be healthy. Let me make this short and sweet. You know the advertising world uses women’s insecurities against them (you watch Mad Men, right?). And when you buy (literally) into it, you truly are, to quote my favorite author, the ally of your own gravediggers.             

            Women fucking hate each other. I’ve watched you guys interact. I’ve seen more friendliness between two underfed Cobras. Sure, you got your girls, but what about those other ones. Like that bitch waitress who asked you if you wanted Diet Coke instead of Regular Coke. What a whore! Or those girls down the bar laughing too loud in way to short skirts? What bitches! I have never seen more animosity between individuals than I’ve seen between two women who don’t know each other. The amount of shit-talking rivals a Chelsea bar during Pride week.
What’s the deal, ladies? What are you fighting for? Tell me it’s not us men! We are a notch above a drunk monkey obsessively playing with his own shit, trust me, we do not deserve your concern. Then what is it?
            Take a moment and observe other women in a regular environment. Just during the writing of this blog here at an undisclosed café on Bedford Avenue, I have heard 1 out of every 10 women actually say thank you to the foreign women serving them their triple decaf soy Cappuccino. NONE of them made small talk (Note: More men make small talk then women. Just a side note, another café observation). And don’t just take this Bartender’s word for it. Grab a pen and paper, sit down like a scientist, and make the observations for yourself.
            Reality is right in front of you.
All you got to do is open your ears and listen.

            So your having guy trouble, huh? Who are the people you turn to first? Your girlfriends, right? Or how about your favorite gay male, he must know the confounding mystery of why he’s doing what he’s doing, right?
            You are asking the wrong people in the end. The only people who truly know about straight guys are straight guys. That’s it. Your girlfriends are equally as clueless as you are about our strange and bewildering ways. They are in the same battle as you.
You’ve got your ‘never gets hit on’ friend. She’s the one you constantly try to hook up with guys, but then the guys always end up hitting on you instead. The ‘never gets hit on’ girl is shy, right? Now, remember The Bartender Knows Credo about Shyness: If you are over 25 and you’re shy, it doesn’t mean you’re socially awkward, it means you’re just a dick. If you can’t handle base level dialogues with an average person (I’m talking eye contact, question asking, and smiling, it’s remarkable how many people can’t even do that), you’re just an asshole. Your “never gets hit on” friend doesn’t get hit on because she’s probably a self-obsessed jerk who can neither maintain eye contact, ask questions about others or smile. She hasn’t been laid in 11 months, what the hell does she know?
            What about your ‘constantly fucking’ friend? You got one of these, right? But she’s not much help either. Her legs are open so consistently she can barely speak unless it’s in orgasmic grunts. She’s the one who solves every problem by falling on a penis. However, the last time she had boyfriend was back in the day when she was slightly Goth and writing bad poetry. Now she’s a size queen with a subtle coke problem. She’s no help either, especially if want some kind of successful ‘normal’ relationship. The ‘constantly fucking’ girl is more afraid of intimacy then her own reflection in the morning.
            And your gay male friend, what does he know? Don’t be confused. Just because he has a dick like your straight guy doesn’t means he knows anymore about us than you do. Let me repeat: Gay men only know about Gay Men. You know the “my only friends are gay dudes” girl. These women look up and realize that every night they are in a gay bar. And not a cool Lesbian Bar. They’re hanging out in places like the Phoenix off Avenue A- a burly, all male, sweating not hot gay bar. The “my only friends are gay dudes” girl is no help at all either.
            So who can you turn too? In the end, go to the source. If I got problems, I go right to another straight girl to get the answer. And that’s what your Bartender is here for: so send over them questions!         

            Ladies. Please. Tell me what the hell is this?
            You like a guy. You act crazy for him. The guy is stoked. He’s crazy about you back. Then the next time you see him, it’s like you barely know who he is? Talk about mixed signals. And I’m not talking about when you just meet. Games are inevitable in the early stages of any courtship. I’m talking about even months in. I have heard from countless guys about this phenomenon. 
            I think there is some kind of confusion some ladies have. They believe that by acting cold they are either protecting themselves from pain or attempting to appear elusive (i.e. attractive). Either way, you are on the shortcut to being dropped like a bad habit.
            If you like someone, just be a regular person. That’s how they do it in Paris. If those girls like you, they’ll stare you down until you sack up and talk to them. Here in America, when you mean to girls they like you even more. It’s fucked up. And true.

            So there it is ladies, the state we’re in. And don’t worry. I’ll be continuing my ‘literary crtitique’ about the fellahs soon enough. But that one is just too easy, isn’t it?   
            Till next time!




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