Tuesday, January 31, 2006

No Sarcasm Allowed

I’ve always wanted to get kicked out of a bar.

My friends usually don’t get kicked out of bars. Usually, my friends are the reason OTHER people get kicked out of bars. Why is this, you ask? It’s because I have sexy friends. When a big guy picks a fight with my friend Chrissie at her local bar, he’s going to lose, and get kicked out, which you can read about here on my old website.

There was the one time when Amy got kicked out of a bar for forgoing the long line to the ladies’ restroom and going into the men’s restroom, which you can read about here.

Nothing tops the absurdity of what happened on Friday at O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica. Justine and I had one of our many non-romantic dates at Bossa Nova, after which we made the drive to Santa Monica to go to O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street. Chrissie was meeting a friend there for a going away party, and she invited us to join. Just about the whole group would be there, so naturally, we wanted to go.

We found parking quickly, and then went and stood in line for O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica. O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica isn’t normally a venue we would frequent, being gay girls, but we’re always open to experiencing new bars. There was a line of about 10 people, we were in the back. After 15 minutes of standing in the cold, we were finally at the front of the line. Two self-important bouncers stood guard at the gates of O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica.

A guy a little taller than one of the bouncers came up to said bouncer and said, in his guyspeak, "Hey man, we’re trying to get in to meet some of our friends, can you just let us in?"

The line at this point was only about 5 people long, and we were at the front. The bouncer said, "No," and motioned to the line.

The guy replied with, "Oh, come on, our friends are in there. We don’t want to wait in this stupid line."

The bouncer looked at him with a look of not wanting a fight, so he let him in.

Justine smirked and sarcastically said, "You know, we’ve been waiting in line too, and we’re ALSO meeting a bunch of people in there. You don’t see us making a fuss. I see you let the boys in."

The bouncer looked at her as if he didn’t have to justify his actions, because HELLO, he’s a BOUNCER at O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica. She might as well be questioning God, or P. Diddy. The bouncer’s reply was: "You know what, I don’t respond to attitude, so I’m not letting you in."

Never one to plead, Justine said, "Fine," and got out of line. I followed her. She made a call and within three minutes, six of our friends, all girls, all beautiful, four of them hovering around the 6’ tall mark, filed out of the bar. Lindsay said loudly, "It’s cool, we can take our business elsewhere." Eight girls total, we probably would have spent between $200 and $250 there, including tips and buying rounds and guys buying drinks for us. And because this guy has a small dick and makes $7.00 an hour at a bar that doesn’t matter to anyone anywhere except for people that live within a mile radius of O’Brien’s Pub on Main Street in Santa Monica, we weren’t allowed to drink there. We stick together… if one of us leaves, we all leave. Not only did he effectively kick out a bunch of beautiful girls, he also kicked out two television producers who have worked or will at some time work on TV shows about bars and nightclubs. He also kicked out two USC students who have a bunch of 20 something friends, and one 30 something who can drink any man or woman under the table in a heartbeat.

And we will never go back there.

Instead, we’ll go to Finn McCool’s, a great Irish pub JUST DOWN THE STREET, on Main Street, in Santa Monica, which is where we ended up Friday. They have Pyramid Hefeweizen ON TAP. And we also met some really cool, funny guys there, and walked away with cool bottle openers for our keychains.

I also got really drunk and was extremely hungover the next day, but whatever.

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