“Bite your tongue, young lady!”

This woman walked into the bar one day who was easily well in her sixties, refined, very well-dressed and as it turns out the mother of a famous news personality. She ordered a Smirnoff and tonic, I placed the drink in front of her, and as I started to walk away she called me back.

“So tell me there, bartender, what two things can’t a husband can’t get at home?”

“Geez, I don’t know,” I said, wondering where this was going. “What two  things can’t a husband get at home?”

“Eggs Benedict and a blowjob!” she said triumphantly. And we both had a laugh.

But mine was more of a nervous laugh, being young at the time and impressionable, and also in the cursed possession, dear reader, of your typical Irish complexion, not to mention a parochial education featuring nuns who flirted with tactics from the Spanish Inquisition, my face took on the blush of a mild claret. And who could blame me? I mean never having met this woman before (I do know her now for many, many years and she’s really a great gal who just likes telling bawdy jokes) this was quite a way to kick off a first conversation, no? And it’s quite a way to kick off this post but I thought if I shared that little encounter it would get my ass off the hook for what is to follow. An x-rated theme…

A couple weeks back I was working my shift, the bar was pretty much full, when in walked these two young “ladies” who squeezed through the crowd. In earnest. Both were dressed in casual attire… jeans, tan slacks and sweaters… they couldn’t have been more than twenty five years old and they couldn’t have been any cuter if an agency had sent them. And as I noticed them light up with sunny expressions more in keeping with those of cheerleaders, I couldn’t help thinking, Go team, Siss-boom-bah!

“I’ll be with you in a sec,” I said to the two, while mixing a drink for the waiter, then after I poured off his drink I returned for their order. “So, what’ll it be, ladies?” I said leaning in.

“How about a couple of Blowjobs?” said the one. “And a couple of glasses of water on the side,” said the other. Then they both began to grin awaiting my response. Like Alice’s Cheshire cat.

Holy Christ! I thought to myself, feeling my face start to redden, if that’s not a straight line Jay Leno never told a joke. But I had no punchline. For I didn’t want to come off like a dirty old man, given the difference in our ages, yet I sure as hell didn’t want to act like she’d ordered a sundae. So I just stood there looking dumb while their grins got wider.

“Am I blushing?” I finally said, breaking the ice. And thankfully they laughed.

“Just a little,” said the one who had ordered the drink.

“Of course you’re referring to the cocktail,” I said (of course they are, you idiot!), “but you’ll have to tell me what’s in it ’cause I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Aw, geez, I have no idea,” said the one. “We just heard about it and wanted to try it,” said the other.

“Well, I’m sorry, girls, I’m not really big on these fad drinks.

Which brings up two points. First off, and as I’ve said here many times before, I don’t take the time to learn all those drinks which are here today and gone before their ice melts. Because they’re usually bullshit concoctions anyway, ordered once a year in our place, so why stock up in my mind what will have no shelf life? And second, who are these guys who sit around making up these drinks? That’s what I want to know. These drinks with these crazy names right out of a porn site! I mean you’ve got Slippery Nipple, the Screaming Orgasm, the Slow Comfortable Screw, and a boatload of others just floating on a sea of suggestion. And it really is nuts. Or funny! In fact, if you’ll indulge me here for a second, I’m picturing right now a skull session where a couple of numbskulls are sitting around making up these drinks.

“Yo, Bobby, I got one. How ’bout I put some Sloe Gin wit’ umm, maybe some O.J., and then, get this, a shot of Southern Comfort after that. And Southern Comfort’s the kicker, ya’ know why, Bobby?”

“No, Nick. Why?”

“Cause then I get to call it a Slow Comfortable Screw! I mean can you imagine some chick sayin’, ‘Yo bartender, how about a slow comfortable screw?’ ‘Cause you know what I’m sayin’…  My place or yours?!!!” {laughs and several high-fives!}

“Holy shit that’s beautiful, Nick, be-fucking-yooo-tee-ful. Now check this out, my man, what I just come up wit’. How ’bout I put Dark Rum with Triple Sec, and add some light cream at the end as a topper.”

“Okay nice, but whaddaya’ call it?”

“A Menage a tois!”

“I don’t get it, Bobby.”

“Triple Sec, ya’ dumb fuck, Triple Sec. Triple like in a threesome, now do you get it!”

“Oh wow, I get it and I like it. I like it a lot! Perfect for two chicks who ask for a suggestion, right? Shit, this is fun, man, let’s keep goin’.”

Or something like that. But it really is quite revealing because clearly these drinks were created with women in mind. Just to put the game below the waist by having them name all these drinks that conjure up all these images. I mean can you imagine some guy walking into a bar, any guy worth his salt, and ordering with a straight face a Sex on the Beach? I can’t. And if he did I’d toss him a beach ball and point to The Hamptons. Or the Jersey Shore if he’s carrying a can of spray tan. But that’s what it’s like in Barland now, at least for some women in Barland, a new drink a minute and each one racier than the next. Which brings me back to my darling little Siss-boom-bah girls..

The art, if there is any art to this, is coming up with a title that’s suggestive and creative. Like, well, the Slow Comfortable Screw for a perfect example. Because the ingredients are all there to justify the name. But to come up with a drink that has Bailey’s Irish Cream, Amaretto and whipped cream (which I’ve since looked up just so I could write about it) and call that combination somehow a “Blowjob”, not only flunks the creative test it… well, you get the picture.. it’s just a reason for a woman to say that word. But the funny thing is, if the purpose of the name is to stir up some fun and to put a couple young women in a funny situation, albeit a suggestive one, in this case your friendly bartender was covered with whipped cream. In a manner of speaking. (Oh, to be young again, great god of bacchanalia!)

Comes to mind a similar story, speaking of being young, which took place out in L.A. in a men’s hair salon. Here’s what happened. After this buxom Swedish woman finished cutting my hair, instead of saying, “Can I blow dry your hair,” she said with Nordic delight, “Would you like a blowjob?” And the expression on her face told me she knew what she was doing. Despite her broken English. And as I noticed they had a room in the back, the brain above my red face began to burn logs. “Do you actually mean…” I stated to say, but “Tsk tsk,” she playfully interrupted. Then she grabbed a hold of her hair dryer and added, “I meant can I blowjob your hair, you naughty boy, you!” Yeah sure, I’m the naughty boy. Now if you’ll get your boobs off my shoulder maybe I can pay you. (Red-faced again with nothing at all to show for it!)

But this was actually another case where suggestion implied much more than the task at hand. Simply for the sake of it. Oh, and by the way, after I admitted my cocktail ignorance and my face returned to the pallor God had intended, our darling young ladies ordered two gins and tonic, water back. How perfectly civilized! But I’m here to tell you if they come in again and ask for water back with whatever they’re drinking, I’m calling those “water backs” Water Doggy Style. I can do this!

See you next week-end, dear reader, sorry I was late with this week’s post but I had (what can I say?) a rather rough week-end. Cheers!

11 Responses to ““Bite your tongue, young lady!””


  1. 1 physiobabe October 3, 2011 at 5:29 pm

    You just outdid yourself with this post, Scrib. Best one yet!

    When I was young(er), I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask for one of those drinks. I was a bit timido.

    Ciao sweetie.

  2. 2 scribbler50 October 3, 2011 at 8:19 pm

    physiobabe: I find it hard to believe that you were ever timid!
    Grazie, bella mia.

  3. 3 Comrade PhysioProf October 3, 2011 at 8:32 pm

    I can vouch for your ability to blush floridly!

  4. 4 Anonymoustache October 3, 2011 at 8:47 pm

    Haaahahahaha…..one of your funniest yet, bro.
    Also, I would like to believe that if presented with the scene you set out including the line, “How about a couple of Blowjobs?” I’d have replied with “Why, that’s mighty fine of you two and I’ll certainly consider it at the end of my shift, but, for now, what can I bring you two?” OK I would like to believe that, but I doubt I’d have had either the presence of mind or the guts…..in reality I may have settled for a much tamer, “Ah, I’m just the bartender here……..you’re seem to be looking for the bratender and he’s not in right now….”
    OK, I’ll sign off before I get into more trouble and get banned from the internets…

  5. 5 scribbler50 October 3, 2011 at 9:09 pm

    Comrade Physioprof: Hah! And I can attest to the fact that you can vouch.

    Anonymoustache: You can never be banned from the internets, Sir, or certainly not from this site, and believe me many of those thoughts ran through my mind. For as I said, this was a straight line with wings on it. But if you saw those smiling faces you’d’ve done the same thing. Which was nothing! (“Bratender”? Bite YOUR tongue, my man!)

  6. 6 The Hornet October 4, 2011 at 12:42 pm

    Scrib — Living out west here in a college town we get plenty of blowjobs {wink, wink, nudge, nudge}. What you’re leaving out — or what perhaps your two lovelies didn’t tell you and didn’t know either — is that part of the allure of a good blowjob (the drink not the act) is the manner in which it is consumed. The drink, you see, stays on the bar, and the drinker puts her open-mouthed lips around the rim of the shot glass and then picks it up — without using her hands– throwing her head back and gulping it down…and ultimately splooging the whipped cream all over the place

    Makes a bit more sense now, no?

    [Good Lord I can’t believe I just wrote all that.]

  7. 7 scribbler50 October 4, 2011 at 5:04 pm

    Hornet: So it’s less about the ingredients (save for the whipped cream) and more about the execution in downing them. Okay, that makes more than a bit of sense, especially in a college bar setting which we’re clearly not. It also sounds like something that should be done with a bit of an audience to cheer them on, which I think is great. And fun. But it wouldn’t have made much sense in the setting I described. And more important than the wrong setting… your friendly bartender doesn’t like cleaning up “splooge”!

    Thanks for the enlightenment, Hornet, always happy to learn.
    (Even though you can’t believe you did so!)

  8. 8 jc October 8, 2011 at 11:47 am

    Shit. I howled all the way thru this, splooge and all.

    Thanks for the Blogasm. *wink*

  9. 9 scribbler50 October 8, 2011 at 1:41 pm

    jc: Glad you enjoyed, my friend, welcome back.
    (“Blogasm”, now that’s a howl!)

  10. 10 Pieter B October 9, 2011 at 4:00 pm

    I like to think I’d have had the presence of mind to say “Sounds good to me, but the second one could take a while . . . “

  11. 11 Jennifer October 12, 2011 at 8:29 pm

    The drink, you see, stays on the bar, and the drinker puts her open-mouthed lips around the rim of the shot glass and then picks it up — without using her hands– throwing her head back and gulping it down…and ultimately splooging the whipped cream all over the place

    Exactly. I was going to say the same thing… it’s not so much what’s in the drink as in how you drink it. 🙂


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