Random Thoughts From a Guy Who Doesn't Have a Sexist Bone In His Body

It's kind of a mixed bag today...just some random thoughts that bounce through my less-than-pretty little head. First things first. I'm not sexist.
Our publisher was meeting with a high-powered female attorney this afternoon. I overheard her telling my boss that she had read several of my columns and, in her opinion, I am sexist.
I strolled into the conference room where they were meeting and took a seat. I don't like my name to be bandied about. I sat down right beside this (may I say it?) rather attractive woman. I looked her straight in the eye. "Listen, Hon," I said politely. "How about doing me a favor and getting me a bottle of water out of the fridge in the hallway." She was sitting closest to the door. Nothing sexist about that.
Somehow I could sense some tension, so I just strolled back to my desk. It really is hard to figure chicks out, even the smart ones.
But, on to other matters. A friend of mine, Deborah Crawford, vented some of her frustration in an email, regarding the rather absurd habit of certain waitstaff personnel in seating an exclusively adult party of diners right next to a family with four or five whining, screaming, sticky children.
"The restaurant was virtually empty," she told me, "and yet we were seated right next to a family with five kids." Now, regardless of whom I was dining with, it would be a nightmare to be next to a bunch of kids.
Don't get me wrong. I like kids. I have a precious grandson. But, if I were to be anticipating a quiet night out in a nice restaurant, the last thing I want are kids around.
I have known families who had a bunch of 'em, and the kids were really well-mannered, but all too often, the only persons who see the kids as well-mannered are their ignorant parents.
I don't despise the kids as much as I despise adults who think when little Maurice runs over to my table and puts his thumb in my French onion soup, that it's precious. Mom and Dad are so busy smiling at each other and congratulating each other on having given birth to such darlings, that rarely do they see me fling pepper into the child's eye. And when Maurice starts to cry, I get this high-pitched idiot-adult-talking-to-child voice and say, "Did him hurt himself? Here let me help."
That usually gets the parents' attention and often, as Maurice's eye continues to water and redden, they'll quickly pay the bill and leave.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not advising putting any foreign substance into a child's eye. But sometimes, when you're nervous (like when a kid sticks his thumb into your soup), you react in ways you wouldn't normally. We all do it. And I forgive myself for it.
For the life of me, I don't understand how parents can sit calmly and watch their children approaching strangers as if they're long lost friends. Hey, it's great your child has such a lovely disposition, but, beyond the fact it grates on my nerves, it truly isn't safe to raise such friendly kids nowadays. I've heard some parents say, "Well, I don't want Junior to grow up in fear." Sometimes that attitude is almost tantamount to saying, "I don't want Junior to grow up." Wake up people. Gee, where did that soapbox come from. I just hope the lady lawyer, if she's reading this, appreciates my serious side, as well as my concern for kids. I think she'd be just a tad bit impressed.
One more thing...isn't Phil Spector just about the ugliest human on the planet. At least when O.J. got by with murder, he looked rather dapper in that suit. But, when they showed pictures of Spector as his trial ended in a hung jury, it was painful looking at the guy. Really, with his long scraggly hair and pasty-white skin, he reminds me of a really ugly gal I used to know. But, enought about that.