Night out in the City

I actually wrote this last night - Feb 3rd at around 11:40 p.m., and today blogger deleted it... so here it is.


Episode one:

Oonagh and I went to this really nice French restaurant called Cafe Claude, downtown San Francisco. French waiters and waitresses, at least they sort of pretended to have a French accent in their American, and they said "Bon jour" and all that stuff when I came in (note: French people say Bon Soir after 4 p.m. in the afternoon...) Never mind, our waiter tried to be especially charming and asked me to marry him. I can't recall the exact words he used, but I remember that he took my hand and I blushed and it was really stupid. Oonagh found it hilarious ... especially since our topic was "how to find the right guy." When we left, I was passing him and he said: "Please let me know when you get divorced." Argggghhhhhh

Episode two:

We took a cab to Harry's Bar on Fillmore and landed in a mix of late thirties American country boys and early twenties barbie doll girls and college boys. Great. The drinks sort of sucked, the music was too loud, and Baywatch was playing on the projection wall. I could count every single one of David Hasselhoff's chest hairs. It was disgusting. Not to forget Pamela Anderson's boobs, which looked like the size of watermelons. Well, that was probably 1:1 then ...

Episode three:

I drove home in a cab driven by a Punjabi cab driver who told me that he's making 5000 dollars a month by renting out 10 shops along a main road in some Punjabi town. One of the shops has a big satellite antenna on top. If he really makes 5000 bucks a month, why does he drive a cab in SFO?

And why do I come back and start writing this post? Blogsucht, I'd say :-)

Good night.............