Give me my f*ckin' drinks

San Francisco has not been treating me well lately.

Last night Cohen and I go to this place called Club Six . We had both been there before an had an okay time, but the one thing we remembered is that the drinks were tiny and overpriced. Oh well, we were in again and were thirsty.

I go up to the bartender, some grungy looking guy, and order two Jack and Cokes. He takes out too small plastic cups, fills them to the brim with ice and does a simultaneous coke and jack pour. It is at this point we know we are being ripped off more. We are talking 3/4s of a shot of Jack here. What the fuck is that going to do for me .... nothing.

Anyhow, I am not one to not except fate and as he sets the drinks in front of us he says "Fourteen dollars". FOURTEEN DOLLARS. There is more alcohol in my piss at this point from my preparty drinks than there is in those two Jack and Cokes.

I say "Fourteen dollars" and give him a raised eyebrow looking. At the same time I was reaching in my pocket for the cash to pay. At this point I was going to pay anyhow.

So what does "Grungy" do -- he takes the two drinks, throws them in the trash and walks away. Once again (if you read my last entry) I was speechless. I turn to Matt and say "Did you see that?" ... We both shared a confused look and decided that it was time to go downstairs and get drinks there.

The rest of the night we drank 2$ Pabst Blue Ribbons.

-Stein