"SWEET AND TENDER HOOLIGAN & MIXED UP 18"

Oh, you saw this one coming. This week's "If It Could Only Still Be Socially Acceptable To Make A Mix Tape, This Is What I Would Put On One This Week" Saturday is, quite predictably, in honor of my shower challenges this week.

1. Shower The People/James Taylor
2. Digital Bath/Deftones
3. Shower Your Love/Kula Shaker
4. Bath/Bjork
5. Water/P.J. Harvey
6. Public Bath/Shonen Knife
7. Shower Me With Your Love/Foxy Brown
8. Bath Music/Greyboy
9. Standing In The Shower... Thinking/Electro Addiction
10. Buddha Bath/Bhangralution
11. Shine, Shave, Shower (It's Saturday)/Lefty Frizzell
12. Strange Bath/Jon Brion
13. Shower Scene/Saint Etienne
14. Rain Shower/Sizzla
15. Blood Bath/Cocteau Twins

Now, everyone get a cup of coffee and settle in because I have to recount my adventures of yesterday to you and bring you up on some adventures today. Okay.

Sometimes things pop up on Shabbes that I do decide to attend. I don't really go out on Shabbes, other than to go to synagogue and such, but once in a while, if something comes up, I will. Last night, I went to a wonderful little gathering thrown by the very lovely and fun Bookslut. I brought dear Accidentally Jewish along because (a) most importantly, she is my friend and I enjoy her company and (b) she help keeps me gregarious when I sometimes feel inclinded to clam up at occasions such as cocktail parties.

As I have blogged many times, I am working hard to overcome a fear of cocktail/schmoozey settings because I often clam up and say too little or I feel like I just ramble on about nonsense, boring everyone to tears. I am happy to report that after the art opening I attended a few weeks ago that went so swimmingly I did just fine last night, even forgetting that cocktail settings make me nervous and managing to have some fun and meet a few new people. Could it be that I am making leaps and bounds in the fear-of-schmooze arena?

Anyway, I'm getting off topic here. Accidentally Jewish and I had a wonderful time and after we bid our hostess goodnight, we realized it had been hours and hours since dinner and a little late-night breakfast was in order. So, we plopped down in the booth of a nearby diner and became engrossed in a serious conversation about how the lack of running water this week really made me feel behind in my work at an already terribly busy time. She was just generously offering to lend a hand if there was anyway she could when suddenly a very loud and very drunk broham fratboy came in and was seated a few booths away. Then another came in. Then another with a date. Then another couple. And another. Suddenly, Accidentally Jewish and I were confronted with the realization that we were going to have to eat our breakfast with a lot of shouting nearby.

(As another aside here, once, maybe a summer ago, Accidentally Jewish and I were dragged into a fratty bar by two friends who were in stitches to see us (me and AJ) immediately lock arms and whimper, victimized by one too many traumatic teasings years and years ago by the jocks in Jr. High and High school, for as I am sure you know, and although it only built our character in the end, nerdy girls get picked on as kids.)

Anyway, there we were with the popular kids, and they were wasted and noisy. Suddenly, the perhaps drunkest/dumbest of the crew, was heard saying to the waitress, "Can I have some gizz? Like a side of gizz? You know what I mean? Gizzum?" Can I will pay any of the cooks in the back to gizz on this guy's (points) food."

But, he was jus getting started! He then shouted for a few minuts about seeing a hair enclosed in his menu and assured the entire restaurant that he had stumbled upon a "long fuckin' pube" and asked us all to join him in imagining said incorrectly-labeled hair "wrapped around and all fucked up around some guy's junk and stuff".... did I mention AJ and I were trying to eat breakfast? I did. Right.

But then, another liquored-up broham aproached our table, squatted as if to slide into the booth next to me but proceeded to pantomime taking a shit ont he floor next to me. "What are you doing?" I shot at him. He waved my protests aside and continued his improv quest, adding the prop of a paper napkin to show us how he wipes his ass. Our shocked protests continued until he turned to rejoin his little club.

Delightful.

We sat, shocked, a nearby table of faux-hawked women taking a moment to make eye contact with me to express their contempt. The manager read the look on my face and came over to assure us he'd keep a close eye on the large group and that throwing them out would probably make this worse, but that he was indeed on top of things. Okay. So, we sat and finished eating and talked a bit more about this and that between shouts of, "I honestly believe a midget will come out of nowhere, and kill you" and, "Fuck that midget, dude, that was a bunch of bullshit" and, "Miss? Excuse me? I would like to poop on that guy's face" and, "Ask me how many girls I've hooked up this month and then ask the person to your right how many girls he's hooked up with this month and just see who the fuckin' man is" and, "Like 800 chicks, dude" and, "Dude. Yo, fuckhead, were we in San Diego this month or last month"...

Just drivel. Just nonsense. But wait! Fratboy broham was coming back! And he seemed surlier than before, and since the our shock had by then worn off from the improvised toilet ritual, we were far more prepared this time. He approached and said, "Listen ladies.." and before he could say another word, I wiggled my neck with a stern pointer finger and prepared to launch into my customary, "Okay, first of all..." Bronx-style monologue when Accidentally Jewish, no-nonsense badass that she is, fired off with, "Get the fuck away from this table. Seriously. Just get the fuck away from us." When he began to protest, she continued, "No, just get. The FUCK. Away." louder and louder until he put up his paws in defense and backed away, mumbling something about a lack of charm school.

A small group of endearingly nerdy couples came in and sat nearby, regarding the fraternity meeting-in-progress with the same sort of contempt.

We sat silently, nibbling on our breakfasts, and I tried not to smirk as I basked in the light of her badassitude. Finally, I whispered, "That was badass." She said something back about adrenaline waking her up more than coffee at that hour, not that I heard her over the din of chatter about midgets, claims of great sexual prowess and shouted orders to the poor waitress and the group's unnervingly quiet dates. Oh, and the faux-hawked women's shouted rendition of Sweet Caroline before being hushed by the manager. We sat in the tension for a few minutes, waiting to have insults hurled at us before I giggled and whispered, "Okay, if anything happens, you go get the table of nerds, I'll get the singing lesbians."

Avoiding any further nonsense, we left, and left the poor waitress a good tip, hoping it would make up for the bad tip she would probably get from the fratboys.

I woke up this morning and my shower would not work. So it goes. So it goes.