I swear no one who was in the bar that night owns a mirror. There was also a memo that went to half the bar that stated that you no longer have to dress up when you go out and summer is a totally OK time to wear flip flops to the bar and dress like a hobo. And not like cute, "I don't care" totally, casual kind of hobo. More like the "I've been sleeping in this for days, and I kinda stink" hobo.
|Beer covered shoes|
Apparently the total lack of fashion in that place was noticed because my shoes got a lot of compliments. Which is always nice. Except when some drunk bitch was marveling at my shoes (they have stripes, in case I didn't notice) and knocks over an almost full beer, which promptly lands on my right foot.
Foam is spraying all over the place, mostly on my pants and shoes, and Beer Girl just stares.
"Was that yours?" she asked.
"No, but it got on my shoes," I said picking up the now almost empty can, setting it on the bar and dabbing my shoes with napkins, convinced they're ruined.
"That sucks," she said, drinking what was left of the spilled beer and getting up.
Stunned, I wiped my shoes clean and cursed at her as my husband and friends came back.
"Some whore just spilled a full beer on my right shoe," I explained.
They all kind of stared at me, knowing that trying to console me would do nothing but fuel the fire.
"I'm sure they're OK," my husband tried. I shot him a look, called Beer Girl another nasty name and went back to my drink.
Really, what kind of person spills a drink on another person's shoes, doesn't apologize and then finishes a drink that isn't theirs and was just on the floor of a bar?
I bet she was in flip flops.