Am I Their WTF?

Scene from Waiting for Karl Rove

“Are you their mother?” 

Am I their what? 

My reaction caused the waitress at the San Antonio River Walk restaurant to practically throw herself prostate at my feet. I can only imagine HER thoughts. 

There went my tip. 

But I’ll get back to her. This particular evening was about Kathy Griffin. Moses, High IQ and I had rented a room in a hotel a block from the River Walk so we could see her show at the Majestic Theatre. 

I’m not going to waste time here. If you ever have the opportunity to see Kathy Griffin’s stand-up, don’t make up lame excuses like you don’t have the money or you’re in the hospital in a coma. Get your ass up and sit through two hours of sheer genius. One of the most brilliant comics I’ve ever seen, she’s also gorgeous, energetic and her timing is so dead-on she should get an Emmy for that alone. And I know something about comic timing. 

The last time I saw her in person I could barely hear her because the two lesbians seated next to me kept up a non-stop discussion about who-knows-what. Did those bitches get their tickets for free? I also fell asleep due to my sleep apnea. I usually only get about four hours sleep a night so if I sit still for a while, I nod off. No offense to Kathy, it’s biological. 

I almost did the same thing this time. My body tried to conk out during Kathy’s slaughter of Elizabeth Hasselbeck, but for once my brain managed to take control. For anyone who doesn’t know who Hasselbeck is, she was a loser on Survivor and managed to parlay that bit of fame into a gig on The View and a gluten-free diet book. She’s a conservative with all the brain power of my cat Vegas, who likes me to pull her tail and spin her in circles while I’m sitting on the toilet. (I should learn to shut the door.) 

Since I work for a living (unlike Hasselbeck) I don’t watch The View. But here’s a YouTube clip of Kathy’s visit. 

When Kathy appeared on The View Hasselbeck pulled out all the lame tricks of a junior high cheerleader trying to get the attention of the quarterback dating her best friend. I looked closely to see if I could detect a set of pom-poms as she yawned and stretched with a vapid look on her face. (Further research shows that’s her usual look.) As Kathy waved to the audience and walked off stage, Hasselbeck mimed kicking the comic in the ass, clearly not comprehending the significance of doing so before a live audience. Classy. 

San Antonio is a military town and at the end of Kathy’s act, she thanked those in uniform and their families for their sacrifices and also graciously thanked everyone for purchasing a ticket, especially in these hard economic times. Now that’s class, Hasselbeck. 

Now back to my regularly scheduled event dramatization. 

The waitress laughed at something I said and asked, “Are you their mother?” 

The “they” she was talking about was my best friend, 27-year old Moses and 39-year old High IQ. My very first thought was – blog entry! I immediately began to give her a bit of good-natured shit and she groveled the same way I do when I go up to someone in the bookstore and say, “May I help you ma’am?” and it turns out the Mrs. is a Mr. 

Our waitress Lesley turned out to be a very good sport. She took several of my cards and agreed to pass them out. She looked a bit too young to have a 17-year old son who is planning to join the Air Force. Unlike me, who apparently looks old enough to be the mother of a near 40-year old man. 

High IQ took a photo of Lesley and me, but you won’t be seeing it. In fact, no more photos of me will ever surface. Between my sprained ankle and the Texas heat, I’ve quit walking and in two months it appears I’ve gained ninety-three pounds. 

Throughout the evening, High IQ and I engaged in stimulating conversation and debate. He’s gay, but with a strong conservative viewpoint. Unlike most conservatives though, he listened carefully every time I pointed out that he was wrong. I held my own with him, even though I didn’t understand half the words he used. This guy is a true intellectual. (I’ve never met one before. This IS Texas.) 

But near the end of dinner I asked him if he happened to be schizophrenic. He kept up a running commentary on Lesley’s service. (Our waitress was covering not only her section, but the section of another server who didn’t show up. She’s a hero as far as I’m concerned.) 

The following comments all belong to High IQ. 

“Where are our chips?” 

“She’s fun.” 

“She’ll still get a good tip, but she’s too slow.” 

“I love Lesley. She’s doing a good job.” 

“Why hasn’t she brought my drink yet?” 

“Lesley’s a hoot. I really like her.” 

Okaaaay… 

I had a frozen margarita and a beer with dinner. And dinner has to be included in this story. Two kinds of queso with chips and chile relleno smothered in cheese one hour before a two-hour show and some extra curricular activities has proven conclusively that I’m lactose intolerant. I discovered this potential disaster with thirty minutes remaining in the show. 

I can handle this. We’re going straight back to the hotel. We have a suite. I have my own bathroom. 

Unfortunately, Moses and High IQ decided we should walk to a convenience store to pick up some crack, aka Diet Pepsi for High IQ. 

Uh-oh. 

Thus began a bizarre case of life imitating fiction. There are two chapters in Waiting for Karl Rove which involves me, ten Slim Jims and an elevator which is eerily similar to the next portion of my evening. These chapters are the brainchild of my evil co-author Jeni Decker. She’s a sick woman. 

There are certain things I vowed to never do in public no matter how old and feeble-minded I become. But when I made this vow years ago I didn’t take into account two gay guys on a mission to find some Diet Pepsi while on foot in downtown San Antonio. 

The first mom and pop store was closed. This necessitated us backtracking to the theatre and then traveling several more blocks. 

I hate you, Mose and High IQ.