My good friend's father was the political anchor for CBS News in Los Angeles when I was invited to dinner at their house. I was an unsophisticated young hippy who rarely wore shoes. Confronted with an array of forks and spoons at my place setting I sat immobilized.My friend's mother looked over the rim of her wine glass and asked, "Would you be more comfortable in another room?"
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I still bear the scars.
In the spirit of Henny Youngman, "That's not my hostess, that's my bitch."
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