Perverted Bar Experiences Make Me Laugh

"Do you like it creamy?"

Someone actually asked me this over the weekend.

No, I wasn't filming a porno. All I did was order a chocolate martini. But instead of inquiring whether I prefer Stoli or Smirnoff, the bartender, aka Sketchy Mcsketscherson, countered back with that gem, laden with sexual connotations.

I wish I could say I responded with something clever like, "Only if you're the one providing the cream."* or the standard, "That's what she said."

Unfortunately, I'm not very quick on my feet when it comes to, well...anything, but witty comebacks in particular. Hamilton "The Babe" Porter would annihilate me in a putdown war.

Instead, all I could muster, through muffled laughter, was a pathetic, albeit enthusiastic, "Yessss!!" a la Buddy the Elf when asked if he likes sugar.

The bartender probably thought I was the perverted one after that exchange. Either that, or he gets off on responses to that question.

Although the 'creamy' martini was amazing, I'm not sure I want to know the secret ingredient.

A similar situation occurred to me and my friend Lo over the summer. But instead of a bartender, the pervert was a bar patron.

Let it be known that Lo doesn't put up with shit from guys. She is far better than I am at getting random, sketchy men to leave us alone. Take this weekend, for example, when the DJ honored our request and played Britney. We, being typical girls, jumped up and down, hightailed it to the dance floor, and busted out our best Britney moves. At least three guys try to join us, but Lo wouldn't have any of that nonsense. "You have to respect Britney. This is a girls-only song," she said as she moved closer to me before they could try to sandwich in between us.

Anyway, Lo came to my hometown to visit me for my birthday. We went out to dinner, and before she left, she said, "I need a good, strong drink for the ride home." This is why we are best friends.

So, we went to a nearby martini bar called 3 Monkeys. All the decor is monkey-themed. They even garnish your drinks with a tres cute plastic monkey. Lo and I liked them so much we both kept ours and have them hanging from our rear-view mirrors. They're like the grown-up version of friendship bracelets.

We're sitting at the bar, enjoying our martinis, when this older, sleazy guy slides onto the bar stool next to Lo. After a few minutes of awkwardly hovering, he taps her shoulder and asks if he can eat her monkey.


Clearly, this guy was a regular and used that line hundreds of times if for nothing else than for sheer shock value. You'd think that by age 35 he could think of something a little more creative.

Lo's response, after looking at him with the perfect mix of disgust/disbelief: "No, you cant have my monkey, but I'm sure if you flirt with the bartender he might give you his."

The only thing worse than a bad pick-up line is a guy that can't take a hint. Even with Lo's back to him, he continued hitting on her, even claiming that he invented The Gazelle. Um...I'm pretty sure that's a Tony Little trademark, dude. But, whatever. If we can't shake you, we'll at least humor you for the benefit of a good laugh later on.

Oh, the bar scene. An adult playground for the good, the bad and the perverted.

*courtesy of Just Jack