So I went to the bar to order whiskey, because I like whisky, and it was cold outside, and when it's cold outside I prefer to drink either red wine or whisky, and there is no way in hell i am getting a red wine from a Stoke Newington dive like Jan's, so I got whisky. When I ordered it he started telling me about his glorified schnapps, and I was all friendly and interested, but I didn't want any fruity fucking vanilla schnapps, which I told him (in an extremely polite way) and drank three whiskeys over the course of an hour before going home a bit tipsy, but not having behaved badly in any way.
A few days later I went back with a different friend, and I had told this friend about the sweet dude that ran the pube, and how he reminded me of this other sweet dude that ran a real sweet bar that we used to go to on Anzac Ave in Auckland, and how he was despy for me to try his sweet schnapps. So we went in, and again it was empty, and he was doing a sudoku which I thought was pretty cute, and still dressed like a science teacher (Mr Pawson, New Plymouth Girls High School), and I said "hello", (cause we had chatted the last time for a bit and I thought he'd remember since there's no one ever in there), "I would like to try some of your delicious flavoured Belgian gin please." I didn't even want to try his fucking gin, I was just being polite, and I really liked Mr Pawson, and Russell from the bar on Anzac Ave, and I wanted this guy to be like them. So, he was quite excited that we wanted to try his fruity gin, so he went off to the fridge to get it, and we chose out fruity fucking flavours (there were creamy ones too! Bleagh!) and as he was pouring them he started to tell us about how a girl had come into the bar a few nights ago and refused to try his gin, and would only drink whisky. At first I though he was teasing me, so I was all charming and fag haggy and like "ohhh how RUDE!" but then he kept going on about it and I realised that he was bitching TO me ABOUT me without realising it was me he was bitching about AND to. I didn't really care though, cause, you know, I'm a laid back kind of chick. So I just drank my shitty schnapps and had another drink (I felt awkward ordering whiskey so I got wine, which was of course disgusting) and then I went home.
A few days later I went to Jan's again. If you are familiar with Stoke Newington you will be familiar with City Kebab. Best darn kebabs in London. They really are. So of course I had to stop there on the way to the pube to get a felafel kebab, open, with everything. When I got to the pube I was all like thinking 'I'm gonna have whisky cause it's cold and wine is arse,' so I went up to the bar and ordered a whisky, and he poured me my whiskey, took my money, THEN told me I had to go stand outside in the rain with my kebab! What a guy! In December! Fucking hell. It's a dive pub! There's no kitchen! What was his problem with my kebab? Was it going to scare off his other customers (ie. the 3 friends I was meeting there)? What a dick. I put my kebab in my bag, drank my whisky, (which btw was shit whisky, but I can't tell the difference, as long as it's not smokey, you could give me brandy and I'd think it was whisky) and went home to watch Dr Who on sidereel. I ate the rest of my kebab on the way home, it was not ideal, as it was pretty cold by then.
I didn't go back, cause I felt a bit personally offended after all that, and you know, it'd be kind of dumb to keep going back, like battered wife syndrome or something (I had a boyfriend like that once, but he didn't beat me, he just cheated on me and then told me he didn't want to be my boyfriend anymore, and then he'd tell me he wanted me back a few days later, and it went on and on for a year, god I'm a dingus sometimes). BUT, a few nights later another couple of friends were there drinking beer, and then they decided they wanted tequila shots, so went to the bar to order them, and old Mr Pawson look-alike over there gave them fucking schnapps, didn't tell them it wasn't tequila, (it's very dark in there) and still made them pay for it! The cheek.
I was so darn unimpressed I thought I'd write a blog about it. Here it is. Not a whole blog. A blog entry. I thought I'd blog. There. I used the word 'blog' as a verb. I have always been terrible at writing conclusions.
