So after the party I treated myself. First, since I was in the area, I decided to cash in on the deal I made with LivingSocial and eat at this really nice restaurant at a "gentrifying" part of town. Ate pork to my heart's delight, although I'm shitting the consequences virtually as we speak. I then decompressed further by marching into My Favorite Stripclub (Non-Cover Division) for the first time since that ripoff bitch/stripper/waitress lit into me. I had a busy day, I was drunk and I didn't give a good goddamn about what she thought of me, so if she got pissed I wasn't going to tip to her satisfaction, well, she can go fuck herself.
But she wasn't there. Instead I got the other stripper/waitress who a long time ago gave up on serving me coffee. That's fine. To prove that I'm not cheap, I took that other bitch's advice and went up to the bar and order a soft drink. The bartender, who's been there a long time, got it for me, no problem. I gave him five bucks for something that was $2.50, and I was totally going to give him a buck tip because hey, look at me, I'm not cheap!!!
But then I got $2.25 in change. Wait ... the pop is now $2.75, and not $2.50. They raised the price of it by a fucking quarter?! You've got to be fucking kidding me. It's just fucking pop.
You know what? I think they're trying to push me out. They are slowly raising prices, kind of like how you slowly raise the temperature of a boiling pot of water so that the lobster stays in the pot so you can kill it. I don't know why you would want to do that to me, a perfect gentleman who has always followed the rules while at the bar. I tip the strippers just fine; if not, they would have complained by now. I just don't tip anybody else. And that, apparently, is a problem.
You know what? Many times I just waltz in, tip the strippers and leave without getting a drink. No one complains. Fuck it, I'm just going to do that from now on. It'll save myself three bucks.
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