Dear Barstaff of Montreal,

Stop buying me drinks.

I may have "the best ass in Quebec". I may cause you stop and think to yourself, "why is this great girl working in a place like this?". I might flirt with you so that you will change my ashtrays. BUT, my ass.ets and my friendly demenour must not invite you to get me drunk.

I may like a martini or even a vodka and soda, but 7 shots of vodka will only turn me into the girl that you didn't fall into lust with. I may like to get drunk, but please, not at work. Noone needs a drunk waitress.

Drunk waitresses only piss off customers. Especially repeat customers. You see, last night I served a bachelor party and needless to say, they adored me. So much so that I became afraid that they might request my thong for a souvenir. After I got drunk off your evil vodka tonight, they came back for more overpriced drinks and cigars, and I told 8 out of 10 of them to "go suck your own cock"... in marginally more polite terms.

After that angry and cockteased table left, I was left with two choices: Go home and sleep off my drunk, or sit at the bar and drink my face off at the expense of the regulars, the bartenders and the bouncers.

Now, I'm hammered, and I blame you, Barstaff. Please, no repeats of this evening. As much fun as riding piggyback on a bouncer's back up and down the stairs is, I don't think I can ever do it again. And yes, the busboys may give great massages and the the bartender may overpour my drinks but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I'M SCHMAMMERED AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I EVEN GOT TO WORK TONIGHT!!!!

And here's a little tip for the Holy Owners: Split shifts only mean that I show up in the morning hafl-asleep and that I show up in the evening half in the bag. If I have 3 hours off, I'm not going home. I call a friend and I end up on a patio drinking sangria until my face falls off.

So, dear Barstaff, if you see me out on the town, and I happen to mention my lack of sleep and the fact that I open the bar tomorrow morning, don't pour copious amounts of alchohol down my throat.

Thank you.

With much love and affection (and only because I'm shtfaced and can forgive anyone in this state),

septima.

ps: I might need a hair of the dog that bit me tonight, so if anyone is out and about tomorrow, come see me on Crescent Street. I don't want to get drunk, so lay off the shooters, but one or two drinks would be spledid. Thanks.vc