Gastro-intestinal vengeance

This weekend, I hung out with a bunch of my new "younger" friends. We pre-gamed at my fantastic apartment and then ventured out to bars. As we stood in the throngs of people at Tiki Bob's, I made a comment about how I thought a lot of the girls in Kirkland were cute.

This one guy, who was already quite inebriated, looked surprised and then surveyed the ladies as if he were just noticing them. After a moment of drunken contemplation, he blurted:

"Yeah, I guess they're alright if you're-- Like, at your stage in life."

It was such a shockingly condescending evaluation that he delivered so deadpan and casually. I wanted to stab him with my tiny tiki drink stirrer.

But instead, I played it cool and offered to buy the next round of drinks. I got everyone in the group a Southern Comfort and lime... except for the Condescending Asshole. For him, I decided to order something a little special.

Me: What's the worst shot ever?
Bartender: The worst?
Me: Yes, I want a shot that you get somebody you hate.
Bartender: Get an Abortion.
Me: What is it?
Bartender: Irish Cream, Peach Schnapps, and grenadine. You'll gag on it.
Me: One of those, please.

Then later when Condescending Asshole puked in the bushes outside the bar (seriously happened), I innocently asked "Oh, is he not feeling well?"