Hey, Arghoth, I think this customer wants to buy you a drink.
And here's a beer for you too, Westmore. *Tucks a colorful paper umbrella into the beer mug*
Well, I've got forty-seven boxes of those paper umbrellas, so any drink where I can use four or five of them is hereby declared to be on sale. May I recommend any drink whose name ends in "-tini"? How about this on on page 4,327 of the menu, the "OMG I Think My Liver Just Combusted And Left An Oozing Hole In My Torso Appletini"? It's made with cinnamon, jet fuel, a dash of apple juice, and a bit of napalm ... Okay, maybe quite a bit of napalm. A lot, really. But it comes with a paper umbrella, so it must be tasty, right?
A person of indescribable complexion enters the bar, with a marble notepad in hand. They appear weary, yet very content, an evidently somewhat travelled figure. They scribble down on their notepad, seemingly noting down every sight and sound of the bar, consistently distracted as they ask around about the culture, history, and notable inhabitants of the establishment. Around ten minutes later, the person stops scribbling, and sits down at the front bar. They look up at the menu, and begin to talk;
"Bartender, a glass of North Novodmitrovsk Chenin Blanc, and a bowl of kleicha, please". They put thirteen dollars onto the table.
🌍 Day 9
The Bar on the Corner of Every Region Embassy Collector, Roleplay, Large 💚💚💚💚💚 (5) The Bar on the Corner of Every Region is a fantastic place. It serves as an interregional hub, a common RMB which provides a relaxed roleplaying atmosphere for all nations alike. The region has significant history, being developed over the span of years into a place for creative ambitions to thrive and develop. From my look at the dispatches (and several of the literary works produced by frequents at the Bar), I can say this to be the first region in my travels to properly warrant a 5/5 rating.
The health inspector died the moment they stepped into the kitchen. Which I know is an automatic fail. But I feel if they'd survived they'd have given us a 1/10. Surely a .5/10 at least.
"I agree. If the health inspector had lived, that would be proof that the kitchen was survivable and not completely hostile to organic life forms. Being alive is the minimum sign of health, and that's why we deserve a 1/10 rating."
Does anybody know if there is a backup judge? The rules (we don't follow them exactly nowadays) say that I am to be the backup judge if the previous winner is not judging.
The original winner was Zombie Barmaid. When they couldn't judge, someone suggested Youtube Inc as the alternative judge. I didn't mew about the rules and back-up judges of course. Well I guess then you should judge?
Oyez, oyez, oyez! This is Week 375 (I checked the dates) of the Bar's most venerable and ancient Weekend Poetry Contest, which was first held in January 2017 and has continued ever since. Participants are asked to write their own poems. According to the rules, if neither the first, second, nor third-place winners of the previous contest can judge the current contest, the back-up judge will be the judge. I am listed as the back-up judge, so for the first time in several years, I will announce the winners for the Weekend Poetry Contest.
First, let us note that participants did not have a theme for a time, so people could submit whatever they wanted. And then a theme was announced as follows:
I have looked at all the entries, whether they followed this theme or not. None of the following were actually submitted during the weekend, but the lack of a judge+theme was an exceptional circumstance.
Ratfink, a Rat, has won third place for this entry:
Oooo, thank you Kissinger-Monroe! Very happy and proud to be given the honor to judge the bar patrons' distinguished poetry this weekend. Since the weekend is very close by, I'd like to declare my theme choice. I'd love to read some futuristic poetry! Think of folks like Mayakovsky or Marinetti. You may write about computers, artificial intelligence, transhumanism (or transfelinism), or whatever. Looking forward to it!
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