First of all, I apologize to everyone in the world for being a bastard.  I can't help it sometimes.  I can be a real dick.  An @-hole deluxe.
     I have mood swings, and sometimes I just don't feel like being nice to people.
     Sometimes it has to do with my sleep schedule, or digestion.
     At other times, I can be a real nice guy.
     Of course, it also depends on who I am talking to.  If I have seen someone waste their time for ten years in a bar, never doing anything, then, if they want to become instant friends, I can be a real prick.
     Anyway, I am sorry if I have offended people.  I will try not to do it again, and I will work on improving my social graces.
     Of course, I will still be annoyed with people who turn the bar into a high school cafeteria, but that can not be helped.

     My entries on 'The Drunken News' are sporadic.  Yesterday, I wanted to write, but I had to endure three hours of bad drumming, and I couldn't even hear myself think.
     Today is nice and quiet, and I am really happy.

     I slept in nice and late today.  I feel great.

     I guess I could start with last night, and move on from there.
     I arrived at the bar, and there were four ladies talking.  I would describe all the details I can remember of their conversation, but to save everybody's time, let me just say that this woman finished with, "You know what everybody?  Cats are finicky with food, but dogs will eat anything.  But you know what?  My dogs won't eat french fries."
     That is fascinating stuff.  Of course they won't eat french fries.  It is dead animal food.  Dogs can smell how bad it is for them, with all that grease.

     Anyway, napkin art is a constant struggle.  I have sales every night, but it isn't enough.  I'm only mentioning it because a lot of people want to talk me down on my price, or they want an extra one for free.  They want to feel like they are getting the better end of the deal, and I have to take the hit, donating my time and labor to people I don't even know.
    Truck it, I'll raise my prices, and then it won't matter if they talk me down.

    There have been lots of little events that have happened, like ten bums in the alley at one time, arguments, spats, hot chicks, beer can stacking, drama, gossip, and the continuation of old men trying to flirt with young ladies.
     One of my favorite subjects is, however, the number of people who bus tables who don't even work there, haha.
     For them, it is a way to flirt a little and interact with people.
     Unless if things were really out of control, I would wait until the people leave before the table is bussed.  It is intrusive to interrupt.
     People bus tables while they have their outdoor coats on and a backpack.  Geez.

     An incident that sticks out is a busser picked up about twelve ripped pieces of cardboard coasters off of a table.
     "Good job," I was thinking.
     Then, the pieces were thrown from three feet into the trash, with half of them going onto the floor.  The bus man didn't even bother to look if he had missed or not.
     Finally, after about a half hour because it was driving me nuts looking at those pieces on the ground, I finally went over there and picked them up, and properly disposed of them.

     Just so you know, one of my favorite people to write about is 'White Wine Jessica' because she is very public, and very vocal.  It annoys me a lot, and the only way to get things of how I feel off of my chest is to write about her.  I don't want to be mean, but I want to reply.
     Here is an example why:
     David:  Jessica, can I just say one sentence?
     Jessica:  Sure go ahead.
     Then, I tried to say my sentence, and she interrupted me during the last part of it.  She would not let me say my sentence, even with repeated attempts.
     That woman just does not listen.
     She is a one-way street.

     She talks in the bathroom, in the bar, and outside.

     It is hard to escape the drone of her voice, and most of the time it is this drunken banter sh**.

     Don't get me wrong, she is somewhat literate, and entertaining on some level.  That is why I like to write about her, but g**d*** does that woman drink a lot.
   
     Where does all that booze go?  She can't be taller than 5'4".

     Thanks for reading.  I'll try to have more entries, if I am not too lazy.

     Oh yeah, one more thing.  A 'frenemy', ( combination of friend and enemy ), was telling me about his movie idea that I had to listen to.  He never brings a notebook to the bar.  His medium is talking.
     I can make a movie trailer for his idea, and have it posted on youtube in about twenty minutes to a half hour.
     I can also write a synopsis or story treatment for it in the same amount of time.
     In other words, I can get the ball rolling.
     He would be amazingly difficult to work with, so I don't have any interest in collaborating with him.
     I kind of like his idea, too, and now I am burdened with it.
     We did discuss his idea moving forward, and he did say that, "Writers write".
     Basically, you can't sit in a bar and make a project happen through talking.  You have to write the idea down, and work on it even when you aren't at the bar.  Otherwise, it will never happen, even if the idea is good.
     I can see his project idea being developed, but if he doesn't do the work, I can't help him.
     I am not going to do the work for him.
     He is a lazy bastard.
     Instead of telling me his idea, he could have written three pages of his idea in the same amount of time.
     Even after telling me the idea, he could have written down some key points of the conversation.
     He could even tape record his idea, which could later be transcribed.
     He is just too lazy, or afraid to do the work.
     I don't know what it is.
     What the hell does he expect, that a script is going to be magically written and delivered on his doorstep the next morning?
     It just doesn't work that way, no matter how good the idea is.

     I spent many years in L.A. listening to people talk and never get anything done.
     Where does it get them?  Nowhere.

     At some point, one has to do the work.
     It isn't fun to do the work.
     It is hard and difficult.
     That is why they call it work.

     Now I am bothered with his idea, that I know he will do nothing about, but it is in my head, so I will have to do something about it if it keeps bugging me.
     If anything does come of it, I'll have to say, "Based on an idea by _______."

     He would just be awful to create something with.  He always argues and never listens.

     Why in blazes would I want to work with him?

     What he wants is a secretary to take dictation whenever he has a thought.

     Dostoyevski did dictate a novel, but this person is no Fyodor.  This only happened when he was too old to write, and he needed a new novel to pay off his gambling debt.

Author's Notes:

1.  Wow, this entry has been seen by nineteen people.  It is hard to imagine why anyone would make a fuss.