The B.H. Puts His Foot In His... Something

So we were at work the other day, and a regular customer came in and handed out some stickers. They said I (Heart) Head.
The b.h. and our boss each had one on their shirts. One guy put his on his daughter. This was only funny because it was only us. Obviously we all knew it was in poor taste, but we were having a laugh. Then we got back to business.
There was a lot of work to be done. Our Christmas party is coming up, so I was cleaning shelves and mirrors and trying to gussy the place up a bit. We also got a lot of liquor in that day for a big party coming up. By the time we left, I was exhausted. Still, we needed to stop at the grocery store for a few things.
When we got in line, we were both talking animatedly about whatever was on our minds, so we didn't notice at first that the girl at the checkout counter seemed slightly weirded out. Finally, our total was totalled and I was counting out my money. The b.h. was bagging our stuff and the girl said
"I love head? Does that mean what I think it means?"

The b.h. turned several shades of red- purple, even. He immediately ripped the sticker off of his chest, crumpled it up, and said
"It means I'm a really classy guy."

Happy I'm Not Eating Any Turkey Day, Everybody.

Every once in awhile, I like going out alone, sitting at a bar, and observing other people's bar lives. They are pretty much the same, but occasionally I am able to make an observation that I might have missed had I been otherwise occupied- you know, working.
So last night I stopped for a beer at a bar where one of my friends works. He had a small group of guys sitting at a table in the corner. They kept coming up, one at a time, every few minutes, and ordering rounds of shots. It was obviously a group of old friends who had come back into town for the holiday, and they were doing that thing that guys do where they buy round after round, proving how manly they are by showing how much they can drink. The trick is that none of them wants to be the guy who decides he's had enough, so they keep going long after a thinking person would. This was a particularly hilarious group because with each round, their requests became sillier and more girly (i.e.- they had more than four ingredients and a name that most men would be embarrassed to ask for). They did oatmeal cookies, fruity motherfuckers, and any number of shooters that can be described as "fruity but strong, and make it taste good."

My bartender buddy's wife was there, and after she had had a few she started making fun of them. Loudly. I remarked after listening to a laundry list of ingredients that they wanted in one round (there were like seven, and he only wanted four shots, which is just stupid):
"What do you call that, T - a Sandy Vagina?"

When she and I had gone to the restroom at the same time, one of the guys remarked to my bartender friend that "Those two lesbians are making fun of us for what we're drinking."

"Oh, you mean my wife and my friend's wife? Yeah, they're smart asses."

You could hear the other guy slap his forehead from across the room.

Half an hour later, when all the schnapps, flavored rum and pineapple juice started seeping into their collective bloodstream, I heard one of them outside getting loud and angry, and when I looked out he was on his feet, waving his finger in his friend's face.

"I WILL FUCK YOU IN THE ASS!!" he screamed.

It made me remember that old joke:

Why didn't Hitler drink tequila? Because it made him mean.

There's an updated version of that joke in here somewhere, but I don't know what it is.