I'm not an alcoholic, I just crush easily on bartenders

Which is why I wished I hadn't upset one of my favorite bartenders of all time. She works at Groggies in Mesa. I haven't been to Groggies in ages. You should visit the bar and her sometime and make yourself a regular there.

If you do go, don't make the same mistake I just did. Pretending not to remember her after being away for so long. I think I offended Groggies best bartender when I replied to her observation that she knew me by mouthing the words, "no she doesn't" to my friend. Over and over again. Like I was embarrassed to know her or something. Which of course isn't true.

Now the bartender with gold highlights and curls hates me. This makes me nervous. When she liked me she used to put Tabasco sauce in my shots in order to watch me puke on my birthday. I have no idea how she will treat me in the future, but I can say it may be dangerous for me to go back.

That's not the reason I didn't say goodbye to the bartender when I left. I tried looking back at her as I walked out the door. I hoped we could at least make eye contact.

I remember when it first started to get weird between me and the groggies bartender. I think one of my friends let it be known that I "had a thing for her." Which I suppose is true, but we both knew that it wasn't reciprocal. So we never had to broach the subject. Once the subject was "broached" by someone all my "innocent" flirtations were deemed creepy impositions by her.

Not that she didn't flirt too. That little bartender has a sensational smile and she loves to flash it for you. But she saves those flashes to interrupt her normally grumpy personality just at the moment you may decide to "write this chick off, that she is just another stuck up hottie always in a bad mood. Then she'll look at you and her eyes will sparkle and she'll give you that smile. And she's got your attention. I guess I am saying she's like Bill Clinton now. She "locks" into you. And suddenly you feel like a jerk for even thinking anything bad about her at all.

And then with a twist and a turn she raises her cleavage back up and is off down the bar chatting it up with some tattooed poser. Leaving you to swallow down your beer and take off with your friend for the next bar. Not that the friend hadn't noticed how you gushed over her, so there is no use to playing it off. But you still try and look cool. You finish a small pitcher between the two of you and slowly exit the bar.

You look back two times as you open the door to leave, but the bartender is busy pouring drinks for others. She is too busy to notice you leaving. And when she gets back to your spot in the bar your absence will confirm for her all her mental impressions of you. All those inadequacies you see in yourself you hope that others don't. She sees them.

We forgot to pay the bill at another bar in town in Tempe. I was pretty sure I saw a friend of mine slip the bartender some cash. I guess she didn't need the money because she refused it. She used to work as a stripper, so maybe she is loaded. A fellow bartender and co-worker of the ex-stripper is here tonight. Very hipster cute. For a while I was worried that the co-worker was going to mobbed by the desperate men that frequent this dive bar. They crowd in on her and press their bellies into her back. But she gets a free drink out of it.

Hipster bartender's bill came to 33 dollars which surprised her. She looked up at the ex-stripper barkeeper like "you're going to rape me too?" But she piled out the cash and left it on the table without a fuss. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it. She was just hoping that she could drink for free in the bar that she works in. Not a crazy request.

The Palo Verde was dead tonight, but not as dead as the Re-Work lounge. A total of two other people sat at the bar at 9 P.M. on a Saturday. Bad. Arizona's smoking ban has basically killed this bar. It has no patio or smoking section. Just a jive jukebox and oddly smoke free clean shine to the furniture which I remarked upon. Dive bars should not be this clean.

The barkeep was 21. She was cute and personable. She cheered for us to come in and order a pitcher of beer. So we did. Whenever I meet a person for the first time I always do my best to creep them out. That way they know just where I am coming from.

The bartender asked us how what were up to. I told her we were hunting for fat chicks. Because we want to get laid. I asked if she knew any fat chicks, but she said she didn't. So I asked if she was a fatist, and she said she wasn't. Then I called her parents hippies. And she told me I was right. That her parents were typical Boomers that used to be hippies but now work for the "man."

"They even live in a gated community." She volunteered. Her Dad worked for Honeywell which in my mind made him a bomb maker. She claimed that he worked in fiber optics. I replied that I thought there was quite a lot of fiber optics these days in bombs. Bombs these days being all smart and such. She asked if we would like another beer. There was no chance in hell of that.

Next bar is a Karaoke bar that Foxxxlove does her singing at. I gave the most interesting interpretation of Gloria ever "sung" at that bar. Which to my dissatisfaction contained no hipsters to "get it." Though I must say that the aging Karaoke DJ who sung like Alice in Chains "got it."

We fled that bar to get Tacos from Jack in-the Box. 2 for 99 cents. The drive thru nearly let us leave without our waters. And then it was back to the Palo Verde. This time the bar had filled up with 2 cute hipster girls playing pool. We watched as the two beat the pants off a couple of guys. I think they went about getting those guys pants off the hard way. I am sure they just could have asked. Anyone in the bar would oblige.

The girls got served after 2 am. So did we but we had to "buy" our drink before 2 am. The male bartender nearly refused to give us the second pitcher of beer, but we reminded him that we already paid for it. He kindly poured us another pitcher. I poured out my old beer in a glass and poured myself a fresh cold glass of beer. I did not finish drinking the beer. And I didn't beat myself up about not drinking it either.