Maybe I mean envy. I don’t know. How am I supposed to know what words mean.

Anyway, M. bought us tickets to see Joe Rogan tonight. (Incidentally, he might be one comedian destined to bring M. and me together, what with his love for the UFC and my love/hate for comedy.) Before that we met up with some friends for dinner. If I wasn’t a gigantic pussy or un-fucking-believably cool, I would have walked up to his table and said “hi” and shit when Joe, along with the other guys in the show, was sitting and eating dinner at the very same restaurant where we were eating.

It’s very likely we know some of the same folks and all, due to that comedy thing. Whatever. I will always work under the assumption that people aren’t really missing out if they miss out on a quick inane convo with me. (Why I should ever do it with a microphone is a question for another night.)

All of the above is beside the point.

The point is the comedy club was Cobb’s, which is in North Beach. North Beach is the part of San Francisco where strip joints slam against Italian restaurants, and both are haunted by the spirit of the Beats, who are now relegated to history and tourists. But, I love walking by the neon bright lights of “girls girls girls” all aglitter with themes like Larry Flynt’s Hustler club and the historic Hungry I (albeit historical for non-nude reasons). What I love best is the hustle from the doormen out front trying to get the foot trade walking by to come in for a spell.

We walked by the Hungry I, and there were a few guys working the door and checking IDs. I watched as a young guy walked by alone and got the street rap to come inside. I watched a young couple walk by unmolested. And, I swear to fucking god almighty that as M. and I eased up the stretch of asphalt sidewalk heading to the club, one of the guys smiling and joking said to another guy, “I’ll take her if you talk to ‘Tokyo.'”

Sadly, they let us walk by.

I love the rap, the hustle so much, but it ain’t never directed at me. Chubby, little, middle-aged, straight and female as I am. I’m not the target demographic.

At another club, as we walked by a friendly doorman chummily put his hand on a young man’s shoulder and stage whispered, “We got two girls and a dildo, man. You got to see it.”

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