Ah, adventures in Bingo-town. I was at Dillenger’s last Friday with my friend Laurie-Ann, after a lovely dinner at Cortese (YUM!). We had nice seats at the back bar, where they will take your credit card (front bar is cash only, because of the college kids). I was enjoying a Smithwick's, and L-A couldn't really make up her mind.
I went downstairs to the ladies' room, and on my way back, two guys came out of the men's room and were walking ahead of me. They looked like normal enough fellows.
I could not help but overhear their conversation. Since they were not in any hurry to climb the stairs.
"Dude! We don’t have to wash our hands!"
"Fuck that. It’s not like we’re girls. We don’t wipe anything, so really, why do we need to?"
"It’s stupid."
I kept my horror in check, and made sure not to touch the railing where they had.
Of course they are sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME at the bar. I tried not to make eye contact. One of them walked away, and the other one had some business with the bartender, and then he got up, but was coming back.
I leaned over and said to the bartender, "Be careful taking anything from him, as I overheard him and his buddy talk about how they don’t have to wash their hands after going to bathroom." I figured it was my civic duty.
“So I shouldn’t shake his hand?” the bartender asked.
“No,” I said, smiling sweetly, “because apparently he doesn’t wash the dick off of it.”
The bartender’s eyes went wide. “I think you just made my night,” he said with a smile.
I do what I can folks.
And... um.. YES!!! Yes you do!! Every time! With soap, you nasty bastards!!!!!
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