How was your Saturday night?

In a bar, you sometimes have those nights, where there are just a few highlights in an overall shitty night. Last night was like that - just without the highlights. Douchebag United decided to have their annual clubmeeting in my bar. Oh the joy.
I had people throwing garnishes - a hen party that started a cucumber fight, and when all the cucumber AND mint was on the floor they went for the ice. Then some promoter with half of Essex in tow was 1 hour and 20 mins late for his bookings - just because you require VIP treatment does not mean you can act like a diva. On top of this another hen party dressed up as "Pink Ladies" where the maid of honour, straight out of Newcastle with the manners to boot, had the audacity to ask me "Can we have free drinks? Can we have free shots? Can we have half price drinks then? But its a hen party, can't you give us anything for free? " The answer was No, No, No and I don't give a flying fuck.

And these were the nice people.

MOTHER, HOW DARE YOU?!

Of course I don't drink at work!

emcartoons.com

Bad, bad, baaad tequila

When you wake up to the sound of a London ambulance and the morning sunshine physically makes it hurt just behind your eyes, that's when you know its bad. When you wake up and walk into the kitchen, only to walk out again because just looking at food was enough to make you want to vomit. When the crowd at Balham station makes you dizzy and having to stand on a packed train even just as far as Clapham Junction makes you nauseous beyond belief. That's when you know it's up there with New Years Day and the morning after graduation. When you finally get to Victoria and find out that you are in fact not supposed to be at uni until 12, which means you couldve slept for another two hours AND the woman at Burger King keeps saying "We do breakfast menu until 11" dispite you pointing out that "You slogan is 'Have it your way', why can't you just make some fries?" with a voice desperate for fast food and a sugary drink, that's when you know the day is a lost cause.

Very generally speaking...

... there are two types of cocktails bars in London, American and English style.

American style cocktail bars: They are either in posh hotels and staffed with ponsies who believe that the costumer is there for them (and not vice versa) and they take pride in knowing 13 different shaking techniques. OR. They're speed bars a la TGI Friday's, where most drinks are spiced up with sweet-and-sour mix and the frozen strawberry daiquiris sell like naked girls in Soho.

English style cocktail bars: The bartenders who roam this oak are constantly trying to outgeek eachother by coming up with the most outrageous combination of ingredients in their drinks - wierdest drink always wins, and the one who has gone through the most effort (making a glass out of chocolate, home grown spices, steeping herbs in the most unobtainable liquid you can imagine - the list goes on) wins the competition. They take ten minutes to make one of their cocktails and think it's ok.

I love them both. Like a mother loves her child, a lover loves another and like a pregnant woman loves wierd food - like a bartender loves Jägermeister.

The end of an era - pt. 2

It is the same feeling I had when I left Sweden. I know I am going to something good and exciting, but leaving my loved ones behind is harder than I thought.
I had my last night at LAB/Academy Bar yesterday and bathrobe-clad vikings, ducks and sailors all joined in and made it a good one. Danny set the bar for the evening at the start of shift when he put on my frilly black knickers (don't ask me why he chose to ask ME for extra undies) underneath his Presidents' Club bathrobe. Delightful.
I cried in the end. Loads. I am going to miss it. The bar, my little work family and all the regulars that I have gotten to know. I salute you. Thanks for the Jäger.

The end of an era

I am bracing myself for my second-to-last shift at LAB tonight. After working for the company for 1,5 years (first bartending at massive FAIL ChelseaBar, then waitressing at legendary LAB, with a short three month stint at Townhouse in Knigthsbridge, before coming back home to Soho where I belong) I am leaving. There will be many many tears, probably even more Jäger. I love LAB and those who have passed thorugh over this year have all become part of my London family.

Me and another scandilous Swede, Victor

Glenn smashes drinks

My big sis and former boss Sarah who is now going to be my boss again at graphic bar

Victor and Danny behind the bar

Ready to rock out another shift

My beloved french croissant Machi and Vix

Photo: Des Yatigammana

(oh yeah, and I've ordered temporary tattoo paper so that I can try out possible tattoos on myself. I promise they will not say 'Ian forever' nor be a butterfly. Stay tuned for news)

The sweet little lie about the Pornstar Martini

We are learning how to make flash slideshows in Convergent Journalism. My dear friend Harri made one on me and my short career as a bartender. In it I claim to love shaking up Pornstar Martinis and Margaritas.

That is a lie. I hate making those goddamned passionfruity sugarbombs. I just like to say it. Pornstar. Poooornstar...

Where Margaritas came from I do not know...

You can take the girl out of Soho...

... but you can't take Soho out of the girl!

There is no way of explaining how much I frikkin love my job. I'm back at LAB again, at least for a while and dear lord it feels good! Payday Friday after Christmas and I hadn't carried a tray for over two months. My muscles are still aching (you want toned arms? start carrying a tray full of cocktails over your head for eight hours straight - that'll do it, believe me!) and my feet are sore but the worst pain is in my stomach for laughing my bum-bum off all night. I've missed my boys and girls.

The LAB team giving Gill a send-off last summer

Quote of the night (add scottish accent for full effect):
"I watch a lot of strap-on porn"

Come over to Townhouse and watch Mitchell and Malm rock it out!

Don't be shy, I know you want to.

There will be vanilla sugar! And passion fruit! and perhaps a little bit of Jaeger...

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Ego quotes and This is now a pregnancy blog

I must say I have my moments - at least last night I had a few. Enjoy...

My dearest Al, now managing B@1 Balham has walked past the lovely Lauren earlier and ignored her. My reaction to the situation:
"Its fine, don't take it personally, we all know Al doesnt function before his first Jaeger." (I actually got a high-five for that one)
Stomachpain and regretting the alcohol intake:
"When I die and they do the autopsy they are gonna take out my liver and go: hey, why is there a stag imprinted on this?"
And on those who work in bars:
"You know how you always blame the alcohol for doing stupid things when you are drunk - the problem with people in this industry is that we are always drunk so when people meet us sober - they think we're ill or something"

By the way...
Pregnancy blogs are in the rise AGAIN, especially teenage preggers blogs. Maybe it's time to turn this one in to a teenage pregnancy blog. I do believe I am pregnant. With steak, mash and bearnaise sauce...