I can’t stand children in bars/pubs.
I see every single one of these little brats as a Veruca Salt or Joffrey goddamn Baratheon. Constantly demanding attention, climbing over the furniture, hanging from the bar, ignoring spacial boundaries, generally getting in the way.
It’s bad enough when adults do it.
Here I am sitting in a quiet, rustic Balinese warung for the past hour or so, enjoying a few cheap beers and attempting to write something meaningful or funny; both would be fantastic. And surprising.
Still, my ego is pacified when the waiter says he likes my look, my hair in particular. I understand it’s a pretty severe personality flaw to like/want completely random people’s adulation but spelunking that particular dank cave is a tale for another time.
I suggest to this spritely young chap that he too could have his hair cut into a Mohawk. I continue to ramble on that I had it cut not 500 metres from this very establishment, in a salon owned by a transgendered individual. I claim that she was one of the nicest men I’d ever met.
Goodbye meaningful. Goodbye funny. I mentioned the cheap beers right?
Continue reading “I Believe The Children Are Our Future.”