So here’s the thing: If you’re sleeping in the bar it’s time to go home. Don’t tell me “he’s fine, just leave him alone” What a great friend you are that it’s more important that you keep partying than it is to get your friend into a safe environment. I’ll tell you what, how about you take him out of the bar, or Denver PD will, that way it’ll only cost him about five hundred dollars to spend the night in detox. You dick. Ohhhh I’m the asshole because I wont let your friend sleep in the bar? The only thing that will make this situation better is if you argue with me for ten minutes about your friend leaving, then finally decide to carry him out of here while he vomits all over the middle of the dining room, sweet that’s exactly what just happened. I’ll just grab a mop. I should have gone to college.

So here’s the thing: When I’m President there are going to be a lot of changes around here. For starters I’m going to have a team of FBI agents who surf Facebook and when they come across a guy who takes a selfie in his car, their going to track him down and punch him in the face. For every selfie violation he commits, that’s one extra punch in the face, so three violation equals three punches in his stupid face and so on a so fourth. The girls who take selfies in the car? That’s fine, their girls. Also, the guy who takes a selfie in front of the mirror with no shirt on will be put to death without a trial, unless he’s fat like me and doing it to be funny. If he looks good with no shirt on, death. One last thing to all the ugly people who seem to take the most selfies, stop, you’re ugly and nobody wants to see your ugly face that you put the camera way to close to when you took the picture. God man!! Don’t you own a mirror. I can say that because I’m ugly. Don’t forget to listen to the Amber and the Trash Man podcast right here on trashmanradio.com Listen, like, share, thanks.

So here’s the thing: So this young little pretty girl is in the bar the other night and she was lucky enough to have me serving her. I say to her “hey sweetheart, what can I get ya?” Now, she didn’t know what she wanted of course, I mean why would she, that would demonstrate having a functioning brain. As I waited for her to make a decision, she asks me “what’s your favorite thing to make?” The first thing that popped into my head was “You cry”, but I didn’t say that of course, instead I made up some bull shit about vodka and some more bull shit about some other bull shit, all so I didn’t grab her and start shaking the annoying out of her. What’s my favorite thing to make? I don’t even want to be here bitch, just order a goddamn vodka cranberry with a fucking bull shit extra lime and get out of my face.