Just Wear The F*cking Mask

September 3, 2020 at 12:12 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

“All right you motherstickers, this is a fuck up!”

“Mask on, please.”

“Gotta wear a mask.”

“Can you pull your mask up for me?”

“Mask. Mask. MASK. HEY! Ignore me and I REALLY WILL single you out.”

It’s the new “Welcome to WalMart.”

As you all know by now, we are in the brave new world, things have changed, and we all have to do our part if we want to survive. That includes wearing a face panty.

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A Case of the Mondays

June 1, 2020 at 6:51 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly, That's not funny...)

Courtesy of The Oregonian

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May 31, 2020 at 4:20 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly, That's not funny...)

Standing Up To Stupidity

Because This Helps

Defending Home

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The Hangover

May 30, 2020 at 9:27 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly, That's not funny...)

The day before my birthday has always been a big party day. On my twentieth, I spent a day and a half getting ready by going to a Judas Priest concert and then drinking in the park. My 21st was a work night, a Saturday night, and I did work, but I was in a bar seven minutes past midnight, already drunk. I’d stay up way too long, then wake up wondering WWWWWTF I’d been doing?

It’s been years since I’ve had a hangover, which is why it seemed weird that I woke up in a mild panic, trying to remember what happened last night? I hate that sense of dread.

* * *

I’d planned a four-day weekend, taking a rare Saturday night off. I texted Dizzy at lunch, “Four days! If I can only make it until midnight.” Three hours to go.

She wrote back, “You can do it!” A cat meme reminded me to keep hanging in there.

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Crazy Bitch(es)

May 25, 2020 at 11:22 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

Once upon a time at The Mothership, I was working a particularly busy shift about 10 AM. In those days, a radio was not only okay, it was mandatory for keeping ones sanity. If a customer starts to ramble, or I choose not to be interested in their topic of the day, I could drift off to my special place, nodding in agreement to whatever they’re saying. Other times, I’d get busy and forget the radio was on. One such time, manager Whitney hurried over and snapped the radio off while the above song was playing. After the crowd left, he turned the radio back on.

“What was that about?” I asked.

He smiled and tipped his fedora. “That old lady you sold a coke to is the head of Metro. She was probably in here looking for something to complain about. While the song was apropos, do you really want to lose the radio over Buckcherry?”

Point taken.

But there are a lot of crazy bitches downtown…

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Old Man Problems Part I

January 29, 2020 at 11:30 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

“Long in tooth and soul
Longing for another win
Lurch into the fray
Weapon out and belly in…”

“You’re…OLD! You make me laugh…”

I toed the line of the store’s door, quietly giving him the stink-eye as he picked himself up off the ground, adjusting his coat.

“C’mon, man. He ain’t worth it.” The friends led him away.

I had a customer.

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A Nice Howaya Punch

February 11, 2019 at 11:11 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

“Aaaand stay out…”

Over the years I’ve worked at Master P’s, I’ve bragged that I’ve been punched/punched-at by no less than four different people, and have yet to swing back. I am proud of my restraint. (Also, I know enough about fighting that a misplaced move can leave you open to even more damage, so I am strategic about my attacks.) I’ve experienced minimal damage, come off like a cool cucumber, and still walk the night with minimal fear. It’s my world.

I am now the longest-tenured cashier, and behind only Grinder and the bookkeeper in longest-employed. Expected to lead the new hires by example, I have been given fewer trainees to baptize. However, some of the managers may need a Zen Refresher Course. Lately, shit and fan have been colliding, and managers are involved. Time to show them how to navigate these choppy emotional waters…

People complain about downtown, but in my humble opinion it’s WAY more livable that it used to be. Sure, there are panhandlers everywhere. Meth-heads wandering the night, crazy-eyed and stinky, raving at anything that flickers past their field of vision. They yell and scream at the demons in their head, snapping back to the moment when a voice breaks their psychotic reverie. Most return to the moment with minimal agitation.

Some need a bit more patience.

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Fast Food Workers…

December 28, 2018 at 12:05 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

“Oh shit, here we go again.”

Beer Runs

I was ringing up an old working-dude his daily reward, three tall cans of ice tea. (Alcohol content 7%.) A young man in a winter coat with the hood pulled up eased past us, headed for the beer cooler, grabbing two large packages, a 12-pack of Pabst Smear and an 18-pack of Henry Weinhards. As he headed back toward us, I told the old working-dude, “He’s gonna run with those.”

Customers react differently; some step in and clobber the guy for me, others just kick back and watch. (Which is about all I’m authorized to do.) As the young man approached the counter, I said, “I don’t suppose you’d mind setting those down until they are paid for?”

He grinned. “Of course! I’m sorry you even have to worry about such a thing. I was just wondering which was cheaper?”

I recognized him. He was one of the line cooks at Killer Burger, and he’d had a couple. He was happy and feeling his oats.

“Nice. Thank you,” I said. “The Henry’s is a better deal. Two bucks cheaper and six more cans.”

“Since this one is the better deal, I’m going to set it right here.” He put the 18-pack on the counter. “And I’m gonna take the expensive one AND RUN WITH IT!”

He took the 12-pack of Pabst and took off running. Yelling “I’m doing a beer run!” all the way back to the cooler, where he opened it and put the Pabst away. He stopped, scratched his head. “I think I did that wrong.”

His smirk gave it away, and I couldn’t stop laughing. “Dude, your technique needs work.”

He came back to the counter, paid his $13.79, and after giving me a two-minute tutorial on how to cook the perfect burger (“Next time, seasoning!”) took off running out the door, “I’m doing a beer run!”

I hope he didn’t get tackled by Clean & Safe. He’d be the one they’d catch.

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Tour of Doody

December 8, 2018 at 11:49 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

It Happens

Have you ever been downtown enjoying the Xmas tree, wandering with the Ale-festers at Pioneer Square, when nature calls?

I tell people I got my job just so I have somewhere to go to the bathroom.

Anyone spending time downtown knows a clean, comfortable, accessible bathroom is a treasure to be safeguarded with near-death-penalty consequences for anyone who causes a toilet to go away. If you go in to shoot up, don’t take a nap afterward. That’s what the park is for. Free up le jon, asshole!

Same thing with mess-makers. You’ve been locked in there for an hour, and then you emerge and hurry out of the business, casting a sidelong glance that emits guilt and shame. (Among other things.) When we go investigate why, we see that you put ten paper towels on the seat to protect your precious ass, then can’t get the whole stinky mess to flush so you leave a few friends floating at the pool. Oh well, someone gets paid to clean it up…

This is why we hate you.


We don’t hate you nearly as much as those who just ‘let ‘er go’ wherever they are. Foul most foul! This is how we met the Dook of Earl.

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Those Magic Moments

August 29, 2018 at 11:11 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

Hall of Fame

As I approached the Pink Store, I noticed someone in a ventilator mask doing something to the front-door lock. WTF? It’s 10 PM, and union rules say… As I got closer I saw it was Mrs Brady’s husband behind the mask, with Grinder at his shoulder, supervising. Oh goody.

It was the final stop on the middle day of my three-day weekend, excepting this short shift giving lunches to the stores. I had been rolling along, smooth and sure, didn’t even have to open separate tills, just take over for whoever was working. Piece of cake! But all of a sudden I’m walking into a construction zone full of supervisor-types.

I repeat. Oh goody.

Grinder has risen! After a long bout of office work, he’s back to managing a store. When the city closed The Mothership, Master P bought an old corner store a few blocks away, in the West End. $20,000 in electrical updates later, the store has gone from rickety old bodega to somewhat snazzy snack shop. There was a lot of cleaning and updating to do, and after Southie finished dealing with the construction aspects, Grinder was brought in to pretty the place up.

Grinder is an early-bird, workwise. He gets in, gets his stuff done, and ducks out when possible, but when duty calls in the dark hours, he’s there with minimal grumbling. (The situation he’s dealing with gets plenty of grumbling, but the fact that he has to come out on his off-hours isn’t usually an issue.) He was in an exceptionally good mood this night. I figured it might have something to do with the fact that he was stuck overnight doing heavy physical labor, and the large travel-cup he was not letting go of for any reason. Pure speculation, of course…

I took over Carlito’s till, and made a few sales. Grinder and I chatted amicably; he heard tales of Dr T’s wedding and updates on all the buzz around the Nightclub Store. Igor dropped by, and it was like an employee meeting.

That’s when El Cunte walked in…

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