First off, let me begin this post with thanking each and every one of the people who shot emails/Facebook messages/Myspace friend requests my way while I was on tour for the last near-month. Every time I had some downtime, I went to my laptop, opened up my email and was encouraged by the literally hundreds of people that expressed their sadness over not getting to read about my dealings with idiots for a whole month. For all of that and more, I thank you.

I decided (probably against my better judgment) to leave my contact info on the right sidebar, so if any of you want to share a drink sometime in the near future, shoot me an email.

Back to the idiots.

One night, I was serving some “bros” at the sushi bar. For those of you not familiar with “bros”, let me break it down for you:

#1: They are always popping their collars. Always. And said-collars are always attached to some ridiculously-colored polo shirt. Where exactly do you find your Robin’s-egg-blue shirts, guys? And no, pink shirts do not make your fake-tans any more significant. The only thing it enhances is the internal struggle you’ve been having with your budding homosexuality. Sorry.

#2: They cannot stop calling each other “bro” or other forms of the word “bro” (see: “broseph”, “brother”, etc…).

#3: They also attach the nonexistent prefix “bro-” to words rendering them stupid and/or meaningless. For example: “Bro! This Natty Light is bro-tastic!” See what I mean?

Bros are a downright waste. Their taste in beer is about as deep as their taste in women and if you mentioned the author Ralph Waldo Emerson, they’d think it was one of the four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

But I digress.

So one of the bros bets the other that he won’t snort some sake. The second bro takes his bet. He’s about to do it when I, their waiter, pass the table.

Bro #2: “Bro, you think I could snort some sake and be okay?”
Me: “Yea, dude. Goes down like water. Easiest twenty bucks you’ll ever make.”
Bro #2: “Thanks, bro!”

For everyone that’s ever had sake, I’m sure you’re remembering not just how hot it is going down but the after taste in your mouth is unlike any other wine you’ve ever had. It stings a little, but your mouth is strong enough to take that punishment. Your nostrils are not.

Suffice to say he screamed like a girl, got the check early and left holding his red nose. Bitch.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 4th, 2007 at 3:47 and is filed under Guys, Couples. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.