First and foremost, don’t call me “sweetie.” It makes me uncomfortable, Awkward McCreepsterstein. When I asked you for a refund of the fifteen dollar cover charge that I paid to get into your skeeze bar, I was not joking. Hipster bars in Bay View are a dime a dozen and I would never pay a cover just to drink shitty beer and give myself osmosis lung cancer. I paid the cover to see Eyedea & Abilities. You bastards over sold the show and took my money and the money of my five friends, knowing that you were already packed. The concert hall was wall to wall with bodies of thrifted clothes and ironic haircuts. There was only standing room in the bar and the douchebag bartender would not even turn the bar music down so we could hear the show. Needless to say, I was not pleased. That bullshit line about how they already collected the money from you just made you sound like even more of an incompetent boob than I already thought you were. Trying to appease me with a free bottle of PBR was like trying to fix a car with a melon baller. Free beer would have not put fifteen dollars back in my clutch and restore my faith in humanity. Thanks for nothing, Asshole.
-the girl who called you a jackass and then apologized specifically
for sounding mean, but definitely not for calling you a jackass