Hot Women on the Town
Why is it that being locked out of your new (and temporary) place of employment because you forgot your key card is somehow unacceptably embarassing if you are also holding a banana? And what's the good of working in the same place as your wife if she's not in her office to answer the phone and come let you in?
Monday night I rolled into Doc's Clock on Mission Street with five 40-and-50-something Jewish hotties in tow. Every mouth in the joint dropped. All wanted to be me, and who could blame them?
We sat at a table in the middle of the room, right next to the shuffleboard, too close to the young girls who shrieked in delight every time their puck knocked another one off the table. Over at our table, we talked about the ease and value in putting the toilet seat down after male use. Has there ever been an act that requires less effort and yet delivers such massive benefits?
Earlier in the evening, we had all attended the BHDS Volunteer Appreciation Dinner, the capper of Jewish Events Month. It was here that we sat casually, paid $5 for an Anchor Steam, ate tabouli and patted each other on the back.
For a few wiseacres, the Volunteer Appreciation Dinner offered a prime opportunity to ask if I was wearing my "pompous shoes." Unfortunately for these would-be Seinfelds, I had worn drab, black Hush Puppies, in fear that the bitter SF Susan herself would make an appearance, and grandly reveal to the crowd that I was wearing pompous shoes, thus destroying my hopes that I would be perceived as a tortured, misunderstood artist.
Later, at Doc's Clock, we celebrated the Mack Daddy's birthday (and her slick, calf-high black boots) along with Jenny from the Block, the Hammer, NYC Emily and the preternaturally groovy Dr. Melfi. At one point, a group of college-aged hipsters overheard us talking about school tuition. One drunkenly asked if we would pay his tuition at USF. Sadly, Stella was not going to get her groove back on this night. Instead, we shouted back at him en masse, something about how his college cost less than our kids' grade school.
How odd for him, to run into that during a Monday night of shuffleboard at Doc's Clock, I thought. Then I launched into my usual diatribe about how sad it was that young adults ape the social conventions and tired rebellion of their hippie parents, dryly pointing out the unkempt beards and sandals of the college-aged boys. Is that all there is?
I give them credit for having the good sense to try to work our table of real women. At that age, there's no way I would have tried my line anywhere outside of the 21-25 age group. I was, I'll admit, an ageist. Shame on me.
Give a shout out to the Jewish moms. Our evening ended at 12:30, long after the rest of the volunteers had gone home. Even to NYC Emily, who fumbled badly while ordering a drink.
Bartender: What would you like?
NYCE: (long pause) ...uh...BEER!
And so ends Jewish Events Month -- from the grandeur of a Presidio Terrace mansion to a beer-saturated table next to the shuffleboard at Doc's Clock. What will we do for an encore?