From Kira Davies, Wonkette

I was bartending at a nightclub on a very busy night. One of our regulars (who I loved) was at my bar with a guy I had seen once or twice before, and that had a super creepy stare that made you feel so gross you wanted a shower. But he had never actually said or did anything that would make me toss him out. Until that night.

I was completely weeded because the next bartender on was late. Creepy man hadn't ordered a drink, even though everyone else he was with was now on their second round. I kept an eye out, waiting for him to make up his mind and trying to keep moving to maximize my money.

He called me over by name multiple times, only to just stare at me and show me his creepy-ass smile as people are demanding drinks all around me. Frustrating, to say the least.

He calls me over 2-3 more times, and I ask him each time what he would like to drink. On the 4th or 5th time, I am completely exasperated, because it's obvious he is doing this on purpose, and thinks it's funny/cute/flirty.

I stomp over and go, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

He looks me in the eye, and very, very slowly shifts his gaze to my chest, lets his eyes stay there for two more seconds than necessary to make his point, then slowly looks back up to my eyes.

He smirks to himself, then says "Milk."

I completely snap. I immediately scream expletives at him as I leap across the bar. I shove him in the chest (almost knocking him completely off his barstool) and shout at him to get the fuck out. His friends don't even attempt to help him.

My manager is close by and comes flying over to rip my hands off him and defuse the situation.

He pulls me away back behind the bar by waist, screaming "What the hell are you doing?!"

I'm still seething--steam was probably coming out of my ears--as I tell him what happened. He gets a disgusted look on his face, turns to the guy, and says, "Oh for fuck's sake--get the hell out of here and don't come back, you piece of shit."

--Kira Davies