That is the line, dear readers, which was very tactfully uttered to me by a random man at the Latin American Club in the Mission last night.
If you've ever been to the Latin American Club, you know that there is an elevated platform (perhaps a stage in a former incarnation of the space) toward the back of the bar. All the barstools and tables in the place were taken, so my friend Wendy and I took residence on edge of said platform, where we enjoyed our cocktails. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, our position put us along the pathway to the bathroom. So not only did that charming fellow choose to comment on one of my limbs, but a random woman also asked us if we knew which was the women's restroom and which was the men's room. And yet another woman asked us if we knew of a bus that would take her to Reno because she had to go there to "make some money."
While Wendy herself was in the bathroom, Leg Man came back and explained to me that when lays his eyes upon something so beautiful, he can't help but comment. My leg was very flattered, I guess. He then asked me not to tell his girlfriend he was talking to me. Um, don't worry buddy, this was not a conversation about which I'll be bragging. Well, except to mock you on this space. Another random man stopped during his pass to the loo to tell me he thought he'd seen me at the Latin American Club before, but he didn't say much more.
The lesson here: don't sit on the edge of the platform at the Latin American Club if you don't want a lot of people to talk to you as they move to empty their bladders.
In other news, I just got together with my friend Jacob, who is in town for a philosophy conference. Jacob is a friend from Brown and is now a political science professor at McGill University in Montreal. Too bad he never made anything of himself, huh? Anyway, he and I took in the brunch offerings at Sears Fine Foods in Union Square and caught up on all things fun. We also reminisced about the crazy, ridiculous, amazing experience that was college. Ah, to be young, idealistic and privileged enough to attend an Ivy League university.
While Jacob brings his political science experience to conference halls full of philosophers, my own work life continues. Yesterday, I had to interview a pop culture and television expert about the final nine episodes of "The Sopranos," which apparently begin airing tomorrow. I have never seen "The Sopranos" and frankly, never care to see it. Yes, I know the show is brilliant, and everybody on the planet respects, loves and reveres it. So shoot me. Anyway, the co-worker who was interviewing the expert with me has never seen "The Sopranos" either, and he and I managed conduct the whole conversation without actually talking about the show. We made the interview about the hype around the finales of long-running television shows and the phenomenon of these finales becoming cultural events. I even managed to summon the names of a few programs I actually have enjoyed: "Sex and the City," "Six Feet Under," "MASH" and "Friends." And never once did I have to discuss the specific plot lines navigated by Tony Soprano. I call that a victory.
Oh, by the way, I booked that acting job I auditioned for on Thursday. So watch out Academy of Art directing students... you have a Sassy actor in your midst.