Restepah to the barman massive

I think my brain is going to explode. Last night I was just learning all the basics of the bar, I don't know how I'm ever going to cope, remembering where every single drink is, what it is, and on top of that, the 6 billion cocktail recipes. They also had me practicing pouring measures into test tubes. I don't think I have very good hand-eye-bottle-test-tube coordination, because I was constantly getting too much or too little in the test tube. If it wasn't going all over the floor that is.

Right now I think there's more chance of me joining the Corrs, settling down and having lots of little Irish babies with all 3 sisters (yes, I know there's a brother as well, but I think having babies with him is probably pushing the boundaries of chance, reality and heterosexuality a little too far, even for me) than becoming a good barman.

Afterwards I consoled myself by going back to Arron's house and eating about 57 chickens. My tummy did not feel good for that this morning, I can tell you.

My dental check-up consisted of the usual: have teeth and gums ripped appart, spilling my own blood everywhere in the dental surgery, foul tasting liquids, fat-middle aged nurses, wierd sensations, dark glasses and people telling me to drink less coca-cola and that I might need 20 fillings. And that was just the hygienist.

The dentist, who I saw straight after, was much nicer, and told me my mouth was fine (even though it was still dripping blood everywhere from the hygiene nurse's mini evil hook-claw-thing), and that I should rest up and take it easy. Actually he didn't say that, but he seemed like the type of guy that might. Then he gave me a lollipop and sent me on my way.

True story.

Erotic discourse in Cheadle

So I've got my first proper shift at Prohibition tonight - luckily I managed to find a black shirt this time, but it's one of those ones that have the sleeves sewn into a rolled-up state, so instead of looking like a ninja tonight, I look like a pirate. They're gonna think I'm some kind of one-man hippy fancy-dress parade at work.

No different from anywhere else I've worked then.

There wasn't any milk in the house this morning, and very little else, so I wasn't able to get my usual bowl of cereal. I had to make a rudimentary cheese and onion toastie from bread, cheese, and an onion. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't have a dental check-up before work. It's always fun to be able to breathe onion breath all over the kinky young dental assistant. Or it would be if the nurses at my clinic were kinky. Or young. In reality they're all fat and middle-aged.

More onion please.