Just a Dash of Kardash

I don't know what to say. I feel that brain injury feeling. I hurt so bad. Yesterday was hard. I caught the constant nasty bartender chatter, and I called him on the carpet. He said, basically, if you go to bars, people are going to talk about you. Well sir, we will just call you retard one and the quiet other bartender, retard 2. Everywhere YOU go from now on, BOTH of you will be heinously, anusly talked about, and eventually kicked out for being "weird", retard 3, Atom. What a freaky weird name. You make me sick, very literally. You AREN'T hot sexy, and Mr. Rob Kardashian will come at you, remotely, from now on. When they all stop into Brit's and then Applebees (Fridley) in one night, you will know your bowels properly. I defend MYSELF, but I always stick up for the uncool, accentric ones, and they then turn on me too and stand up for all of you. What a psycho cycle. Having been a bartender at all is going to put you in Putin path after last evening. Have fun with that.