Jackie and I took advantage of this and crammed until 11:15, rather unnecessarily, when we finally just gave in and just took our exams. Started off with the written exam, on which we both got high 90's (96 and 97, methinks), then moved on to our practical exam (20 different drinks for each of us), which we both passed. I am now a certified bartender, and Chip will call me back by sometime next week with job leads. Huttah.
Anyway, Chip administered the exam, but Mike came in at noon, after we were finished, with his two sons, one of which is five and the other of which is two years old. He commented earlier in the week what a pain in the ass it was for him to "babysit" them, after which I promptly pointed out that one does not "babysit" one's own children; instead, you babysit kids you have the intention of returning to someone else. Jackie, meanwhile, said if they were such a pain to "babysit", he ought to bring them in, and so, he did, a little surprised to see that Jackie and I had already finished by noon.
So, yesterday, while making layered drinks, we made Buttery Nipples and Slippery Nipples, and Jackie commented on "nipple" being a dirty word. Chip and I both disagreed; nipple, after all, is the anatomically correct term, and there are much dirtier words that can be used to describe that general region. So, after that, Chip and I lightly make fun of her for that whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Today, before we started the practical exam, we were filling up our bottles and Jackie spilled some orange dye on her chest, so Chip and I make a few more cracks. When Mike came in with his kids at noon, he noticed the stain, and Chip and I explain what happened and her take on the word "nipple" from yesterday.
"Psssh-aw," says Mike, "nipple isn't a dirty word at all. Collin," he says, addressing his two year old son, "say 'nipple.'" Collin looks at him, unsure. "Go on, say nipple."
"Nibble?" he offers, nearly inaudibly and with his mouth full of spit.
"Good, good," says Mike, "but say it again, louder this time."
"Nibble!" he shouts out, beaming from ear to ear. The boy, who barely comes up to my knee-cap, stands up and begins jumping up and down while clapping his hands. "Nibble nibble nibble!"
Meanwhile, Mike's five-year old, Michael, cocks his head to the side, inquisitively. "Nipple?" he asks.
"Nibble!" replies Collin.
Jackie is turning beet-red from embarrassment and from laughing uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Michael walks up to Jackie, tugs on her ankle, and asks her her name, and Jackie answers.
"And what does Jackie have, Michael?" asks Mike.
"Nipples?" answers Michael.
"And what does mommy have?"
"Nipples?"
"And what does the bottle that Collin drinks from have?"
"A nipple."
"There," says Mike to Jackie, "I don't see why you have to make everything so dirty." Jackie can't help but laugh.
Michael then strikes his best fighting stance and says to Jackie, "Watch out, I'm going to punch you!"
I lift him out of the way and sit him down on the bar. "Now now, you must never hit girls," I say to him. "If you do that, you'll never get nipple." Chip and Mike crack up, and Jackie, understandably, punches me (but with a smile).
All of us then proceed to play with the boys and talk for about an hour or so. Michael and Collin fight over a calculator with numbers, so I offer Michael my watch, which he plays with and eventually discards.
Collin begins jumping up and down in the window and waving at people. "Be productive," Mike says to him, "yell at them to give you money."
"Give me money give me quarter!" he shouts at passers-by, the last three words suggesting his father has asked him to do this before. "Give me money give me quarter!" he shouts, as the people walking by hear nothing through the window and see nothing but a cute child who they ogle and wave at.
The two boys grow bored again, so I tear the table of contents out of my bartending book and fold it up into a paper airplane, which the two play with for a bit and then cast aside. I then see a flashlight on top of the fridge, so I turn it on and hand it over to Michael, and the two of them play with it for nearly half an hour, targeting things with the light and chasing after it (Collin chased it and ran into a wall, which was, at once, both adorable and hilarious), until Mike finally tells them that they have to leave. Despite all his supposed grumbling about "baby-sitting" them and encouraging them to say "nipple" and encouraging them to panhandle, it's was clear from watching him that Mike is crazy about the kids, which is certainly a good thing.
We then all depart on our merry ways. I have lunch, swing by Penn to see Min, realize Min isn't readily available, so I sit around and read another sixty pages of K&C in the Penn Bookstore until Min is, see Min, meet up briefly with Ericson, and then return home.
I remain steadfastly hopeful that I will get a job with this whole bartending gig, but it does not help that my mother is saturating me with her asian motherly cynicism. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...
Meanwhile, I'm all thought out. Toodles, boodles.