There's a glowing review of bartender...

There's a glowing review of bartender Misty a few boxes down. My impression as I sat through 4 sets behind as empty glass (she must have walked right by half dozen times) was the diametrical opposite. Her head was so far up her keyster all I could see was the bottom of her neck hanging out. The place is still dark, smoky and cold. Now you get a paper bracelet to qualify you for all the free re-fills. If Misty's your girl bring a lasso. Girl quality ain't what it used to be, but then neither am I. Spent the better part of three hours alternately pissed off, longing for the old days, and glued to my seat. Finally, well into hour two, Daisy showed up with her two splinters going all the way up to that postage stamp ass, and beyond to those humongas tatas--don't know how the poor girl stands up. It took such a freakish package and display to stir the old soldier to life at long last. Hallelujah!