Late one night, a very drunk blonde woman stumbled into a crowded bar and slid onto a stool near the counter. Looking completely serious, she waved at the bartender and slurred, “Barfender, I’d like a marhini for my heartburn.” The bartender raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh, but he mixed her a martini anyway and placed it in front of her. She smiled proudly and took a long sip while the people nearby quietly chuckled.
A few minutes later, she waved him over again. “Barfender,” she said loudly, “I’d like another marhini for my heartburn.” This time the bartender sighed, shook his head, and made the drink anyway. The blonde looked pleased with herself, completely unaware that several customers were now listening closely to the strange conversation unfolding at the bar.

Not even five minutes passed before she called him over a third time. “Barfender!” she shouted. “One more marhini for my heartburn!” By now, the bartender had completely lost his patience. He slowly walked around the counter, looked her up and down carefully, and prepared himself to finally correct her once and for all.

“First off,” he said, “it’s bartender, not barfender. Second, it’s martini, not marhini.” The blonde blinked at him in confusion as the entire bar went silent waiting for his next words. Then he pointed downward and added, “And third… you don’t have heartburn. Your boob is sitting in the ashtray.” The entire bar exploded with laughter while the blonde looked down in horror and nearly fell off her stool.