When The Babysitter's Drunk, Bad Things Happen

So, I'm officialier a doorman now. I wouldn't say that it's one of my jobs, but I get asked to do it. I guess it's more of a bouncing, ID checking, freelancer. I got asked to work next Friday and Saturday and agreed, even though I'm going to have just had my head cut open by a surgeon the previous day. Luckily, when used without alcohol, Vicodin actually helps the situation. In addition, when people tell me that I should have my head examined, I can tell them that I have. Dad Joke. Nobody says that anyone should have their head examined outside of Bugs Bunny cartoons.

There are some things that you have to do to work the door because if you lose control of the situation, shit can get real weird. So, the first thing you need is a chain wallet. All doormen have chain wallets. It's usually a good idea to wear some kind of boot, too. Add a scowling look of disinterest, a jacket with a lot of pockets and a beanie and you are ready. You can also add a MagLight if you think you are a baller, but you usually come off as compensating for something. Oh shit. This outfit would also work if you were a dockworker. Also, how awesome would nunchucks made out of two MagLights be? It would be like a truly attainable lightsaber.

Now, for etiquette, there are some rules, it's not 'Nam. NEVER play games on your phone while you sit there. Even when it's slow. There is tons of shit to look at when you sit out in front of a bar for four hours. It's like being homeless without the beard and the smell and the crazy talk.

Being me, I try and scan the street, as I know at least four people for sure that would find pleasure in shivving me from behind. Plus, just checking shit out can be entertaining sometimes. If nobody wants to cause you physical harm, you aren't trying hard enough. Live by that, but do not find pleasure in other's misfortunes. It's a slippery slope that leads to a thin and fuzzy grey line.

You should also never drink. It can get real sloppy. When the babysitter's drunk, bad things happen. Babies drown in paint buckets with an inch of standing water in them like in the picture on the side of the bucket. Kids asphyxiate themselves with plastic bags on their heads like in the picture on the plastic bag. People spill hot coffee in their laps. That's right. All of those warnings are on the side of products and in instruction manuals because a babysitter got drunk. Learn from it.

You need to remember to feign interest in inane drunk stories even if they are being told by the unattractive set. That's the hard part. Lameness, lack of wit, and general uninterestingness can be overlooked briefly for good hair, nice rack and the like, but add a butterfly breast tattoo, a sagging tank top and a muffin top and it's a real challenge. You are earning your money at that point.

Here's the conversation:
"Oh I can't believe you need to see my ID. I could be your mother."

"Uhh. You could never be my mother with that jail tattoo of a butterfly on your boob. It just wouldn't happen. Plus, if you were my mother, I suspect I wouldn't have lived to see the age of 17 with what I assume are your stellar parenting skills mixed with excellent judgement."

So, if all goes well at the plastic surgeon, I won't look like the Elephant Man the day after my surgery and can cover up the affected area with a toque. Also, really banking on the moustache implant taking and not rejecting. It should work because the moustache donor and I have the same moustache type. Also, keeping the tail as it is part of my personality. If my head is wrapped in gauze and I bounce, I guarantee you that there will be an ass kicking of me that night while I yell "I'm not an animal. I'm a man." It's too easy of a target. Please, Jebus, don't make me a target.