I told you there would be atleast one.

And when I say one I mean one post about the people at the bar sitting around me.

Four guys in a hipster douche type like band sit down to my left. I assume they are hipsters with the scruffiness, ironic facial hair, talking about how Depeche mode is fucking techno (I almost threw my laptop at that one's head) fedoras, shall I go on?

Anyway they are all ordering food and the one in a red Mr Rodgers sweater with matching Nike air sneakers (DOUCHE!) places his order as such:

"Can I have the artichoke quesadilla with no cheese and a caeser with balsamic dressing on the side."

Say it with me now. WTF?!

So you basically want an artichoke sandwich with no form of condiment on tortillas instead of bread annnndddddd lettuce and croutons with oil and vinegar.

Oh god that's a pussy right there all right. And to make matters worse he said it with such an air of condecension (it's late don't judge my spelling) that I wanted to vomit so imagine my shock and surprise (I really wasn't I figured it was bound to happen) when he slid up next to me and said:

"How's the writing going?"

"It's fantastic."

"What are you writing?"

"A blog where I rip people new assholes, and right now I am writing about that pussy dinner order you placed."

He has yet to say another word to be since.

On my right is a wanna be jersey shore juice head. Who ordered the same quesadilla with cheese. I turn and look at the TV behind his head and he asks me if I like artichokes (is this a pick up line? I'm confused) I respond no (a total lie I love them) to which he tells me if I did I could share his dinner because he can't eat it all.

I don't touch guidos with a 10 foot pole.

Again I say it, FML