How You Doinnnn...

A sensual stare and a crawling grin meet my gaze from across the bar. Their fluttering eyelashes and a flick of the hair gives me the impression that they're interested. I firmly tap the cool stainless steel boston shaker onto the glass. Pick it up over my right shoulder and begin to forcefully shake it back and forth as its contents mix with the frigid ice. While I jostle the containers, a warm body cautiously approaches as if preying on me from afar. Nervous, I clinch my jaw in anticipation of whats about to come next. They lightly place their finger tips on the unvarnished counter as they begin to gently stroke it. Pursed moist lips gradually open as they say

"Hi. I'm...

                     Bruce"

FAAAHHHHHHKKKKK, I exhaustedly yell in my head, while smiling and introducing myself and slowly dying inside. It has now become a weekly ritual that gay men chat me up. Don't get me wrong, I'm still very flattered, but is it simply too much to ask for a single Eva Mendez to walk in and find me sexually desirable for the rest of her life???? Ohhhh, Bryce, Ryan, Chris, Josh, and Albert, I do appreciate your desire, although one in the bum is one too many. Perhaps my slightly feminine tendencies have carried over to New Zealand as back home I would get the occasional cat call as well, "Ohhh Heyyyy Cupcake." It really does astound me that people question my sexuality. I actually think its quite obvious...

What? Can't a motha fucka just treat himself?

I Want You To Blog All Over Me

The wooden planks creaked and the stiff air was parted by the hefty dough-balls known as bloggers wandering in. Unnecessarily large cameras were slung around their necks, and their demeanor conveyed that being in a social setting was a rare occasion outside of their cyber life. A sponsored event led these socially inept bloggers to get a feel for The Glass Goose by putting on a cocktail demonstration. Black lenses were my sole audience as their eyes were transfixed through the viewfinder and their fingers were busy Snap Chatting, Instagraming, and mammogramming. The restaurant's suave ambiance came to a halt as the shutters of the cameras roared through the dining room and dribble slowly emerged from their mouths at the smell of food. The potted plants would have grown into "Jumanji" status if they were fed with selfies and peace signs. Below you'll find their reviews.

Blog #1

Blog #2

Blog #3

Feeling more popular than a Korean pop star, I impregnated zero out of all zero of the attractive bloggers. Speaking of which, who even reads blogs????? 

LOSEERRRRRSSSS

The White Family And Their Asian Exchange Student

I suppose it was only inevitable that the original cast of The Glass Goose would become a family more so than awkward co-workers. Once the few douchebags and retards were weeded out, it was the core group of friends that stood strong even through the repetition of the same playlist day after day.
Even I became quite efficient behind the bar, not only pouring water from the dispense gun, but also being able to translate through the thick Kiwi accent...I know, a true success story. It took numerous mistakes and embarrassment to get to this pivotal stage, but thats all behind me now. I refuse to remember the occasions in which someone asked for bourbon on the rocks and I gently placed small pebbles in their drink or when neat translated to an extra clean glass...awkkkwarrrddd. Perhaps playing Vanna White when asked about the variety of whiskeys we carry suited me a bit better as I would vaguely open my posture up to point in the general direction of the 3 massive shelves of spirits behind me. Becoming more acquainted with alcohol, I have learned the following:

1) There is no such thing as an overpour
2) Apple Sourz taste like an orgasm in your mouth...but thats negated by everyone thinking you're a little bitch
3) All beer still taste the same
4) Limes burn when you get them in your cuts, your eyes, and your butt
5) No one actually knows anything about wine
6) James Bond is really not that suave as martinis are meant to be stirred, not shaken
7) That exercising your liver doesn't really make it stronger
8) How to spell shampain
9) Popping champagne bottles is oddly erotic
10) Fireball is significantly less tasty when in comes back up

Even found myself a bit of true love...for coconuts

Time For A Change...Of Your Sheets

The violet hair of the Korean lady with an affinity for scarves matches the colorful walls of the hostel she manages. Baring an impeccable resemblance to Edna from The Incredibles,

her directness and sheer Korean voodoo feng shui cleaning styles make her an overbearing disaster to deal with. With that said, we bartered our cleaning services (and our life away) in return for discounted accommodation.

On the first day of bed making, I was very thoroughly (mis)informed on how to rid any and all beds of bedbugs. You see, under the fitted sheet there lays an airplane freebee blanket that she considers the bed protector. When a guest checks out, you just seizurely shake this bed protector and obviously all the bedbugs will fall onto the floor. It is then that you get those little bastards by sucking them up with a vacuum that has less suctioning power than a blow up doll...known from experience.

The communication barrier is quite substantial as she attempts to catch her own thoughts and then spews them out in an unorderly Korean accent. I spend minutes on end listening to her lecture at me while I nod, smile, and laugh at what most likely are the wrong spots in the conversation. But on the upside, I get to wear Summer's latest fashion trends.

Quack Attack

The week of suspenseful anticipation finally came to an end, as I felt like a duck face blonde chick on Tinder. All employers swiped right to me and the emails tsunami-d in. With more choices than Baskin Robins, I narrowed down my decision to 3 options:

1) A coffee shop entitled Circus Circus (no its not circus themed, no I don't dress like a clown, and no... I unfortunately don't wear a top hat) wanted me to be a senior waiter at a pay rate of $16-$18 per hour.

2) An informal British General Manager wanted me to be a manager, cook, and cashier for his Mexican Restaurant that was only days away from opening.

3) A restaurant entitled The Glass Goose was also on the brink of opening in the center of downtown. They wanted to hire me as a waiter at a rate of $15 per hour.

After much deliberation I came to these conclusions about my options:

1) I don't get to wear a top hat-deal breaker.

2) Doing a little research, I decided to check this place out. Not only was it in the boondocks of a suburb, but the estimated opening date of "a few days," must have been a direct translation to at least a month. The unfinished painting of Pancho Villa on the wall was Hitler-esque, as he must have been wondering where the rest of his mustache was. I've seen pictures of tribal villages in the Amazon that had more kitchen equipment, chairs, and tables than this desolate room that he deemed a restaurant.

3) And so it was decided, I would get loose at the Goose. As confident as I was about serving, a curve ball was thrown into the mix as the Site Manager purposed that he wanted me behind the bar. Having NO bartending experience at all, my total knowledge about alcohol was as follows:

• All beer taste the same...like piss
• Everyone feels the same when uncorking a wine bottle- I know what I'm doing, just don't make me show you
• James Bond likes his martini's shaken and not stirred
• Anything that gets you intoxicated is just called alcohol-period.
• Blended margaritas taste really good
• A Jager bomb involvers Jager and...the bomb?
• Filling a beer glass with mostly foam is still looking at the glass half full

Get ready Auckland, cause all i'm giving you is water or soda