While critics of bringing children to bars are vocal, some parents have embraced the habit with gusto. In recent years, mothers in Manhattan and in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, gathered for Wednesday afternoon cocktail mixers called Tots and Tonic. One former attendee, Christen Clifford, a writer and actress who now lives in Jackson Heights, Queens, proudly recalled breast-feeding her son, Felix, at the bar before ordering a martini.the solution, of course, is easy and easily applied: make bars be bars again. go there, and curse, spit, gamble, swear, fight, and smoke--or at least smell like smoke. hell, go outside, take a drag--relish it--come back, and blow that sweet secondhand cancer it in Felix's nipple-sucking, lactate-covered face.
when supermom starts screaming at you, gracelessly splashing her $12 martini in angry narcissistic froth, slowly turn to her, and tell her what she needs to be told: go wash your fucking hands and get me a cheese sandwich. though, admittedly, that's The Icepick's line.
then, calmly direct your attention back to the bartender and order "one of whatever this fucking baby is having."
2 comments:
Just to be clear, I'm the patron in that joke, not the wait staff. Let's hope we don't wind up in jail, or prison if we are extra bad. (apologies to lettrman).
Just to be clear, I'm the patron in that joke, not the wait staff. Let's hope we don't wind up in jail, or prison if we are extra bad. (apologies to lettrman).
Post a Comment