|"What's that drink you're mixing" the stranger asked the bartender in the upscale Tex-Mex bar.|
"I call it a lil' Texas Shooter", said the bartender as he continued to mix up several batches of the drink.
"What's in it ?" asked the stranger.
"Sugar, milk and rum." said the barkeep.
"Is it good ?" asked the man.
"Sure is senor." said the bartender smiling. "The sugar gives you pep, and the milk gives you plenty of energy."
"And the rum?" asked the stranger.
"Hell man. That gives ya plenty of ideas what to do with all that pep and energy." quipped the bartender.
|A warning to all you drivers at Christmas|
A warning to all you drivers, be careful about drink driving as we are getting close to Christmas and Police are out there checking on people.
Last night I was out for a few drinks. One thing lead to another and I had a few too many cocktails and then went onto the wine. Not a good idea.
Knowing I was over the limit, I decided to leave my car at the pub and took a Bus home. Sure enough, I passed a police checkpoint, where they were pulling over drivers and performing breathalyser tests. Because I was in a Bus they just waved it past.
I arrived home safely and without incident, which was a real surprise as I've never driven a Bus before and I am not even sure where I got it from....
|A man is in a bar and falling off his stool every couple of minutes. He is obviously drunk.|
So the bartender says to another man in the bar, "Why don't you be a good Samaritan and take him home."
The man takes the drunk out the door and to his car and he stumbles at least ten times.
They drive along and the drunk points out his house to the man. He stops the car and they stumble up the steps to his house the drunk almost having to be carried.
The drunk's wife greets them at the door, "Why thank you for bringing him home for me, but where's his wheel chair?"
|Ever since Rob was a child, he had a fear of someone under his bed at night. So he went to a Psychiatrist and told him, "I've got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there's somebody under it. I'm scared. I think I'm going crazy."|
"Just put yourself in my hands for one year," said the psychiatrist. "Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able to get rid of those fears."
"How much do you charge?"
"Eighty dollars per visit," replied the doctor.
"I'll sleep on it and if needed I will come back to you," Rob said.
Six months later he met the Psychiatrist on the street.
"Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?" he asked.
"Well, eighty bucks a visit three times a week for a year is an awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for $10. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new SUV."
"Is that so!" With a bit of an attitude he said, "and how, may I ask, did a bartender cure you?"
"He told me to cut the legs off the bed - ain't nobody under there now!"
FORGET THOSE PSYCHIATRISTS... GO HAVE A DRINK & TALK TO YOUR BARTENDER. There is always another way to solve a problem.