Archive for November, 2013

Survival In Auschwitz

The Bully Pulpit

Holocaust Survivor Tattoos

“Silence slowly prevails and then, from my bunk on the top row, I see and hear old Kuhn praying aloud, with his beret on his head, swaying backwards and forwards violently. Kuhn is thanking God because he has not been chosen.

Kuhn is out of his senses. Does he not see Beppo the Greek in the bunk next to him, Beppo who is twenty years old and is going to the gas chamber the day after tomorrow and knows it and lies there looking fixedly at the light without saying anything and without even thinking any more? Can Kuhn fail to realize that next time it will be his turn? Does Kuhn not understand that what has happened today is an abomination, which no propitiatory prayer, no pardon, no expiation by the guilty, which nothing at all in the power of man can ever clean again?

If I was God…

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Bartenders View/Coffee Date

Last night I saw something I have only seen in movies. Those of you who read my post “The Bartenders View” got to laugh at all the stuff the we bartenders see on a daily or event basis. This post will be a tad different, as it deals with types of women, and as I AM a woman, I get to speak freely here.

This was a wedding reception, a big expensive wedding reception. It was beautiful and the bars were very nice (rented) and workable (some that we get are only for looks and no thought is put into the people that have to work behind them). As usual, there were about five hundred guest and probably four hundred and twenty of them, the bride didn’t even know. One creature in the crowd was other worldly and it was not in an ethereal way. She stood out in her spike black heels, on the way up, there was lace black tights…way up was a slinky ruched skin tight blue satin mini dress. It was so tight I dont know how she walked and allowed it to stay below her rear end. She had a tiny black shrug over her shoulders but busting between was cleavage so exposed it must have been taped together. She had sleek satiny looking blonde hair. Of course.
Now…I hate course words describing women in short tight dresses that expose cleavage. No one knows the hearts of people. I do try not to predispose my opinions based on someones choice of clothing. That being said, in my near four years bartending these events….and seeing plenty of short tight skirts, and boobage-I finally saw someone with total power over the visual stimulation of men. It was a sad night.

This girl oozed, she slinked and she knew she had control. I have always been told that confidence is attractive. Walk like you know where you are going and hey you are attractive. I know this to be true, from personal experience. Even on my worst days with god awful make up and little sleep showing on my face…if I walk around like I’m the only woman in the place, I’ll still get respectable flirting…or not respectable cat calls. This was different. This was not attractive. This was “I’m unattainable and dont you wish you had a piece of it”. She swayed to the bar, and being a girl, I felt I needed a bath instantly. She flicked a dollar out of her hand bag and in a deep sultry voice asked where the tip jar was. I explained the tip situation and she handed me the one dollar bill. Every where she was spotted there was guys attempting to small talk although they were chatting with her jutted out breasts. She oozed sexual power. It was gross. It was the kind of girl that made you want to walk up to the poor souls around her and scream “snap out of it! you’ll catch something there, even if you hit it!” Not that they would have heard your warnings or anything.
I thought of all the young women I have seen in cocktail dresses, and how my male co workers stare and or make remarks under their breath-good or bad. There is “skank” “sluttpuppy” and other names. Then there was this. I dont know what this falls under. I suppose it is the elusive women that men talk about that lives to make you want to sleep with them but then doesnt? Or is that the tease? No. I have known teases…I think this was a slut. A skank is probably the more desperate or easy version. I dont know. I’m not a man. It was just gross and pathetic.

At the end of the night when most of the crowd was outside seeing the newly wed couple off, this woman literally was walking like a cat in her spiked heels across the floor while this guy was literally walking backwards in front of her, falling over his words and most likely anything else behind him…”So…are you from the um Birmingham area?” “No..” she breathed looking down on him like he was a minion.
“Where are you from”
“Florida…” she breathed like she was talking about a far far far away land full of magical wonders. I and my girlfriend were dragging trash across the floor in our penguin suits. We witnessed her run back …or prance back for her purse she had left on the table. Not too fast of course.

All of this ran through my mind today while I was debating on whether or not to wear heels to a coffee date I had to “meet someone”. I have promises to keep you see. Meet people. Move on. There is more fish in the sea. Some “lucky guy” etc. I have a new pair of Alabama themed heels…although Steve Madden probably wouldn’t describe them as such. Hounds tooth and red…really high heels. I was thinking I didnt want to make “too good” of a first impression. I dont want to look like “one of those”. Then I realized..there is no earthly way to “look like” one of those. You either are or you are not “one of those”. It is an oozing attitude and men can (cough) smell it. I ain’t one of those. I still didn’t wear the heels. It’s just coffee for godsake.

So I met the guy. Air force dude. Interesting. Much in common. Just getting to know each other. We both like coffee. He is from…Illinois. Well bite my tongue and smile, what are the odds. Somewhere in America my mirror is reflecting back at me again. I’m trying to break it. I really am. I a lady after all, and that is what slinky blue dress will never know. Mirrors.


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