Questions that came up in conversation over an intellectual cocktail at the Jazzy-C:

1. Is that man engaging in internet sex talk? (the answer is “probably yes”)
2. Did Jazzy-C skimp out on the toilet décor (the answer, also “yes”)
3. Is that fruity thing that we can’t quite describe in German a cheesecake? (the answer was “I HATE YOU AND I’LL IGNORE YOU FROM NOW ON…but yes, kind of…)
4. Who was the first person to come up with circumcision?
5. How did that come about, do you think? 
6. Who thought of those tiny cocktail umbrellas and is he/she rich now? 
7. Why does the waitress hate us?
8. Is it because of the cake thing? We can explain: we wanted it.
9. Is it because Simon screamed out “NERDS” at the top of his lungs?
10. Is it? Because we’d really like to pay…
11. Are you ever going to let us pay?
12. What is going on with that man’s hair? An undercut and a ponytail, is that really necessary?
13. Hello? Are you going to bring our bill?
14. What would life inside of Jazzy-C be like, do you think?
15. Could we survive on alcohol and cake alone?
16. Has it really been 30-minutes since we asked for our bill?
17. Wow she really didn’t like us asking about the cake, did she?
18. Is it because we went to town on it?
19. Should we have been more courteous to the other patrons and, say, not made all of those slurping sounds?
20. Would it help if we licked the remnants off the walls and ceiling? 
21. How do you say “GIVE US THE BILL YOU STUPID WHORE!” in German? We don’t want to get it wrong (that would be impolite)

I’m going to finish this blog by reassuring you that eventually our waitress (who from now on shall be known as Dumb Arse Bitch Tits) finally gave us our bill and we left.

To show our indignation we didn’t leave a tip. That’s the last time old Bitch Tits will mess with us.