I can't make that

I got to celebrate the Bestie's birthday last week and part of the birthday extravaganza was going to hear Dumb Blonde. 

I had honestly never heard of the band but the Bestie was stoked to see them and I'll go to just about any show if it's only twenty bucks. 

We got to Holocene, the particularly small venue, and I say particularly small because it looks more like a bar than a venue for bands to play at. 

And since it's my favorite persons birthday I want to buy her a drink. 

Well unlike me, because opposites attract, my girl is not the lush that I am. 

In fact she hardly ever drinks. 

She doesn't even know what to order, that's how infrequently she drinks. 

I know, she's fucking adorable.

So I channel my inner 22 year old & suggest an apple martini?

Sure, that sounds great. 

Ok. 

So I walk up to the bar to the skinny guy wearing a black turtleneck. 

Yes.

I said turtleneck. 

Hi, Can I get an apple martini? I ask.

I can't make that, he curtly replies. 

Oh, I'm fairly shocked. Ok.

And he hands me the menu with the cocktail list and I sit down with that. 

We look over the options and most of them are designed for the alcoholics like me but I point out one with rum and pineapple and declare that to be the sweetest. 

So that was the birthday cocktail to be had. 

I marched up to Mr. Turtleneck and asked for the Jam & Berry. 

I can't make that, he replies, annoyed.

What? Now I'm getting annoyed. 

I'm missing one of the ingredients. Here you can get a Tom Collins.

Which ingredient are you missing?

Or a Paloma. Or we have the slushee, he points half heartedly to a machine that looks like they stole it from a hot dog on a stick from a mall food court. 

Can SHE make the drink? I point to the female bartender I wished I'd spoken to in the first place. 

He pauses. No.

It's my friends birthday and she doesn't drink a lot so she wants something more on the sweet side. 

Well I don't know why she doesn't just come up here herself. She can get the sluuuuusheeee.

I can't believe this. 

What bartender can't make a fucking cocktail?

Does he even actually work there?

Or did he just throw on what he thought was a cool outfit and walk behind the bar to be the slusheeee pusher. 

Who wants a fucking slushee in winter?

What an idiot. 

I ordered a shot of Jameson --because I needed to drink after talking to him. I needed a zanax after talking to him.--And walked back to the Bestie mildly defeated at not handing her a birthday cocktail. 

Now I know for next time. 

If a man is wearing a god damned turtleneck and he's standing behind a bar, I will find somewhere else to drink. 

Because he not only can't make good wardrobe choices, he can't make a fucking drink. 

#fuckholocene