10 Things The Boyfriend Learned Working at a Dive Bar

So The Boyfriend recently started work as “head busboy” at a pub in one of the now trendier/hipper locations in Montreal: St Henri.
It’s still sketchy as fuck.
Here are some things he learned working a dive bar in Montreal, where the stale, incredibly salty popcorn flows like Molson Export and Labatt Blue. Pick up a game or two of Shuffleboard while you’re there:

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Real Things that Really Happened (Part 1): First Missed Kisses

awkward-gif-1First Missed Kisses

“Do you know how to play poker?”

If these words are uttered by a cute boy with curly blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a disarming smile, the response should always be a resounding, “No,” followed closely by, “and don’t teach me.”

But at fourteen years old with nothing but a history of silent crushes to guide me, what did I know? Continue reading

10 (more) Ways to Piss Off Your Barista

Montreal is home to a scary number of cafes and coffee shops (Starbucks notwithstanding). This means that, at some point or another, you or someone you know will end up slinging coffee across a counter for minimum wage plus tips. And unless you’re working by yourself, the tips are pretty shitty.

Despite the necessity of an early morning caffeine-drip, often customers will insist on treating their baristas like shit. Even coming in two or three times a day in order to continue the barista-bashing while stimulating their already-caffeine-addled brains.

So while there is already a fairly comprehensive list of ways to piss off your barista over at HuffPost, I still felt as though there were a few items missing from Ruby Browne’s list. Without further ado, here are another 10 ways to piss off your barista:

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Oh, the Agony: Montreal Winters, Men in Tight Pants, and Obnoxious Cafes

Uuuuugghhh....

For any of my readers who are not inhabitants of The Far North (excluding my American readers who live in the mid-west, I know it can get pretty cold out there), you need to understand just how miserable winters in Montreal can be.

First, there’s the annual 23938503240934 feet of snow:

Yes, this is what my car usually looks like after a hefty snowfall. Yes, this happens more than 10 TIMES A YEAR
Yes, this is what vehicles usually looks like after a hefty snowfall. Yes, this happens more than 10 TIMES A YEAR

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Ram-Yum Yum!: Getting My Soup on at Ganadara and Pho Sho

Luckily for me, The Boyfriend loves soup. This is only one of the 13 473 reasons that he is a keeper.

Back in high school, I dated a guy who didn’t like soup. This was a red flag for several reasons the first of which was a very basic “who the hell doesn’t like soup?” And second of all, he was in a relationship with someone who’s appreciation for broth and noodles went as deep as an extra large bowl of Phở [fuh]. We remain friends to this day but my distrust of him for distaste for soup lingers like the subtle aftertaste of a large bowl of spicy Ramen. Continue reading

The Coffee House Quandary: Why Coffee Franchises Suck

Franchise: noun. ˈfranˌCHīz

“An authorization granted by a government or company to an individual or group enabling them to carry out specified commercial activities.”
Use it in a sentence: “I wasn’t ballsy enough to open my own coffee shop so instead I piggybacked off of a corporation and bought my own and tried to make it mine but it really just makes me look like a sellout. This is my franchise”

I attempted to write a rant against Starfucks the other day, but for some reason the force was not with me and I wrote no more than two badly-strung together sentences before giving up, not to mention I realized that no one wants to read a 1000 word rant and treatise against the scourge of Starbucks, no matter how fabulously wordy my sentences can get.

So, instead, I offer a plethora of franchised cafes and eateries who dare to call themselves Houses of Coffee that you should never walk into again. Allow me to begin with… Continue reading