I'm a nice girl.

I am. Truly.

Tonight, I watched Milton, a 23 year old regular sit at my bar, minding his own business, drinking his Captain and Coke get molested by Michelle. Michelle is a 30-something (damn near 40 something) bar-whore who fancies herself one hot piece of tail. Michelle would be a hot piece of tail if she had one ounce of self respect. But...she doesn't.

Michelle's not an ugly girl. Not at all. She's actually very cute. Nice body, cute face. Decent smile. Dresses nicely...

I've been the main bartender and manager of that bar for 7 months. I've worked there for what? 9 months, I think? Since I started, I cannot tell you how many mens tonsils I've actually had the displeasure of watching Michelle's tongue seek out. And...this is rather disgusting to me. One time, I remember seeing her literally (and I'm so not kidding) climb onto an old dude's lap, wrap her legs around his body, and lick his face.

This gets her drinks. A lot of them. Men actually fall for her crap and purchase drinks in mass quantity for her. And, rather than being decent about it and ordering a 3 dollar shot, she always tells them she's expensive and makes them buy her $6.00 Jager-Bombs. (Which, for the non-bar-going readers is a shot of jagermeister in a small shot-glass, dropped into a straight glass of Red Bull).

So, Milton...anyways, she gets up and goes to the bathroom and Milt says "Shan...that chick won't leave me ALONE. She keeps putting her hands under my shirt, and she won't leave me alone!" I said "Milt...next time she says or does anything uncomfortable, tell her to watch it because you don't want your girlfriend to get pissed and jealous and point at me. She won't know any differently."

So, about three minutes later (she was in the bathroom for 2 of them) she says "Hey, Shannon. Come'ere." I said "Yeah, Michelle. Whatcha need?" She says "Aren't you married?" I said, "Yeah? So?" She says "Well, Milton says that he's dating you and that I better watch it. I said that your husband's huge and that Milton better watch it." I said "Yeah, well...if you feel froggy...jump. You threatening to tell my husband about my relationship with Milton?" She says " I won't if you'll let me take him home with me tonight." I said "I'll tell him myself tonight. Milton's mine. Hands off." (mind you, this entire time, Milt's got a Cheshire grin on his face.) She says "Well, I'll just call him now." I said "You want his cell number, or will you call him on the land line?" with a cocky grin. She says "You're a bitch. I like it."

And with that, gets up, and moves to another table with 3 other men. Within a whopping 2 minutes, the big hairy, tatoo'd biker grandpa that she sat next to was ordering her two Jager-bombs.

Ick.

Well...at least we know that when we're old and wrinkly, there'll still be the Michelle's of the world to keep us warm at night...

One last thought on it...wouldn't she make more money if she went out and found herself a corner?

sdk