Saturdeath Night

to all of you fabulous folks who speed from a downtown party spot or work in an attempt to make it to your local bar fifteen minutes before last call--needing that last (or first) little bit of liquid barbituant before the great doors of the mecca that is "the bar" or "the quick-e-mart" stop selling booze until the sun rises on the morrow, please remember that it is your local bar, run by your local bartender, who is at the end of HIS work day but not finished until he has rid himself of all of the miscreants residing in his bar, and what's more, cleaned up after them after putting up with them for the better part of ten hours strait!
there. done in one sentence. i love my job.