Make any resolutions?

I decided this year to forego my usual resolution to have no resolutions and make a list for the upcoming year.
Just a few, don’t want to overdo it. Check it out:

I will not pay an arm and a leg to get into the same old bar just because it is New Years Eve. How many of you went out on the 31st? How many of you paid out the ass for the privilege of doing so? Same old bar, same old people, but you pay at least double at the door. Granted, it is nice to be able to wear the new Christmas outfit somewhere without being accused of being a hooker, but it’s just ridiculous to have to pay so much. Same old people, same old bands, but the place is so packed the chances of you getting a two-cent party hat or a glass of the “free” cheap ass champagne are slim to none. Considering it’s the one night of the year the bars can be assured of capacity crowds, therefore great sales, you’d think they’d give you a break. Happy New Year my ass. I will not go see any band that puts a flyer on my windshield. You know the drill here. You’ve been downtown for the evening having fun. You’ve politely turned down “The Street Team’s” efforts to hand you a flyer, explaining you can find nothing in your purse now much less with 3 or 4 8.5 x11 pieces of paper shoved in it. (Where are the men supposed to stick these anyway? In their wallets so it looks as if they have more cash? In their pants to look like they have more…never mind). Anyway, you get in your car jump on I-4 and there it is, flapping in the wind. Grrrrrrrrrrr. I love it even more if it’s raining. Same shit, except this time the obnoxious obstruction is swishing back and forth in front of you under the windshield wipers. I have to tell you the timing involved in grabbing wet soppy paper as it reaches the outside perimeter of your windshield without being soaked after indulging in a B52 straight up and 3 beers is nothing short of amazing.

• I will not go to a show that has a “No Re-Entry” clause.
  Am I being held hostage here or something? I paid my cover, what do you mean I can not go outside and come back in? What’s the real deal? Are my captures more afraid I may partake in the evil weed and come back in hungry enough to eat their lousy food or that I might spend five dollars and buy a draft in a plastic cup somewhere else? (Plastic. Another of my pet peeves but I’ll let it go for now). I was at a show at a “club” one night that was so crowded I became nauseated. There was no way I could make it through the crowd, down the two flights of kid littered stairs and to the restrooms in case I had to puke, (another friggin all ages show), so I had to beg the door guy to let me stand just outside of the “smokers corral” to get some fresh air. Ridiculous.
  
  
• I will not frequent a club that has that woman living in the restroom.
  Going to the restroom shouldn’t involve guilt. You go in, stand in line if necessary, wait for the giggly bimbos in stall three or Cindy puking in stall two or the cocktail waitress smoking in stall one to finish and take your turn. Hover, wipe, flush, wash hands, fight for mirror space, re-apply war paint and return to main room. Simple. More and more frequently, however, I have to contend with Rhoda Rooter, Restroom Attendant. She’s got it all folks! Paper towels in case you cant figure out how that contraption works, mints, perfume, make-up, hairbrushes, you name it! (Yeah, like I’m going to use the same makeup or brush as anyone else, and we wont even mention the fact that they sit in the restroom all night). For this service I am supposed to tip. Newsflash. I don’t need help in the restroom. I do not want to feel the guilt involved when I don’t want to wipe my hands off with paper towels that someone else just handled or when I don’t tip because I don’t need help. I also don’t want to have to wake the woman up if she nods off in her chair and almost falls off.
  
  
• I will not frequent a club where the doormen have attitudes.
  I should say door person. I am not at the door for a quiz or to hear your or so witty commentary. I went to a club with a male friend a couple of months ago, there were a guy and girl at the door. (Is this really a two person job?) The chick kept saying, “You and your girlfriend go on in, you and your girlfriend blah blah blah.” Oddly enough I can recognize sarcasm in a voice and I was this close to asking her what the fuck her problem was but blew it off in favor of the apple cider beer that luckily appeared in my vision. I don’t know you, don’t assume you know me. Just check my I.D., take my money and shut the fuck up.
  
  
• I will wage war on neon arm bands, drink snatchers and women that won't wait on women.
  While none of these offenses are bad enough to write a club off, they are obnoxious as hell, all the same. Nothing like having that perfect outfit put together and complimenting it with a fucking neon orange armband. Gag. Drink snatchers. This one really pisses me off. I’ve got about a quarter of a beer left, or I leave the bar for a sec and the bartender dumps my drink. Especially if it’s last call and I don’t have time or don’t want to slam another one. Give me a minute for Christ’s sake. Funny thing is it’s usually one of those women that won’t wait on women. You know the type. Bends over in front of and waits on every man at the bar before she finally notices you. Worse still if the man beside you she just waited on has to point out that you’ve been standing there twenty minutes. Then she can’t figure out why women don’t tip her. Stupid bitch. Sure is quick to dump that drink though. Ahhhhhhhh…I feel better now. I can see 2004 will be a better year already. Oh, one last resolution. Don’t want to make too big a list. I’m weak you know.
  
  
• Last one:
  Until the editor actually starts reading this shit and dumps my column I will continue to share my thoughts and feelings as a patron and all around smart ass. Hey, I don’t profess to know everything, but Who knows, it may help for our local venues and entertainers see another point of view. I’d like to think it could help them not join the growing heap of failures residing in The Zone.