People use that pet name for reals???
We may make too much noise in the lunchroom, but at least none of us have EVER had hella loud personal cell phone conversations in there that included the phrase "WELL HELLLLLOOOO, SWEETUMS!!!!"Sweetums?? We are all very very sorry.
posted by Britney, yo @ Wednesday, May 31, 2006
5 Comments:
Sweetums? OH my! That's something that I would expect to hear in the Vegas lounge called the Peppermill, said by a bartender named Marge, who dons a frosty bleached blond ends and dark roots, as she plops the beernuts in front of a repeat customer.
"Good evening Sweetums, are you going to have your regula?"
Sweetums? OH my! That's something that I would expect to hear in the Vegas lounge called the Peppermill, said by a bartender named Marge, who dons a frosty bleached blond ends and dark roots, as she plops the beernuts in front of a repeat customer.
"Good evening Sweetums, are you going to have your regula?"
Sweetums? OH my! That's something that I would expect to hear in the Vegas lounge called the Peppermill, said by a bartender named Marge, who dons a frosty bleached blond ends and dark roots, as she plops the beernuts in front of a repeat customer.
"Good evening Sweetums, are you going to have your regula?"
Vegas Lounge called the Peppermill...hee. That is also the kind of place where you would meet a local. Some guy named Sirus--desperately clinging to his youth in a white sleeveless shirt over tightish, straight-legged Levis and dusty boots. He shoves pieces of newspaper in the bottoms to make himself appear taller, but all it manages to do is make his ankles wobble unnaturally when he walks. He wears too much gel in his hair, and has bizarre orangey make-up all over his face that ends in a noticeable line halfway down his throat. He thinks he "still has it" and spends his time hitting on all the young ladies who really must think he is all that, and want him to show them around town. He has probably just come back from burying someone in the desert, and is most likely the very "Sweetums" to whom bartender Marge is speaking.
Actually, I believe it was juxtaposed between some racial epithets by an offensive skinhead who sidled up next to me at the $5 minimum craps at the Fremont, when I was finally stringing some numbers together. Somehow in less than five, he managed to bring the kharma crashing down around the happy community we had established. So I colored up and headed across to the Fitz, where I proceeded to get another roll going, only to look up from the layout to see his dour visage at the end of the table. Guess it's time for bed!
Post a Comment
<< Home