Pin It

DNA Loungin' 

Observing the mating rituals of horny dudes at the Noc Noc

Wednesday, Dec 7 2005
Comments
Let's discuss attractiveness. Biologically speaking, good looks don't have much of a function beyond getting the looker laid, which, for the purposes of our discussion, will be referred to as "sexual reproduction." Sexual reproduction is the only reason biological beings do anything they do. You can tell yourself that you really enjoy reading Foucault, but the fact is you aren't very attractive and have instead beefed up your intellect to try to entice a coupling, whether you know it or not. Or maybe you have turned that weak chin into a ski jump for witticism and clever asides -- ah yes, women do love a man who can make them laugh. Congratulations, jokester, you have developed a reproductive fallback plan. These facts of nature explain why any old ugly dude can pick up a guitar and I will suddenly find his DNA structure worthy of fusing with my DNA structure in order to create a more perfect being.

One theory states that all we're really made up of are billions of pushy DNA molecules that fill up our flesh vessels and make us do their bidding. All these guys want is to inhabit as many living things as they can. The more sex you have, the more chance they have. I like this theory, because it means it's my DNA that keeps choosing to date assholes, not me.

This rich, reproductive pageant unfurled before my very eyes last week when I accompanied a few horny young men to the Noc Noc on Haight.

DNA had compelled their flesh vessels to hurl themselves to the densest population of bars in one city block in San Francisco, so as to better increase their chances of encountering a female of the species. The Noc Noc is near the Toronado, the Mad Dog in the Fog, the Peacock Lounge, and several other spots. Alas, at the beginning of the night, the guys were stuck with me.

"She was wearing one of those tight sweaters like they do ...," said Hanz to Franz, discussing a bartender he had enjoyed watching the previous evening. (OK, yeah, I changed a few names here so as to save certain people named Hanz a little face.) Franz joined in with his assessment. Then Hanz gave us a rundown of all the women he works with in his new job, from the comeliest to the fugliest, not to mention the cute one with the good personality. "I'm a sucker for that kind of girl," he added, taking a drink of his beer.

To all you women out there who wonder about such things, it is indeed true that men talk exclusively about girls. I, for one, was shocked to find this out. I mean, what about sports? Or farts? Nope, it's chicks, punctuated with the occasional Family Guy reference, although within these confines there is room for some differentiation. Depending on the fellow, the talk can range from tender discussions of a girl's blush all the way to beaver hunt recaps. On this evening, in a place with an interior that looks like a cave and an almost constant Billy Childish soundtrack, the line of conversation stuck mainly to the prospective apprehension of booty.

As the night stretched out before us, Hanz continued to talk about girls and how he was going to get one. I marveled at his DNA. Underneath all those clothes buzzed a veritable Santa's Village of gene codes, with various cells receiving and packaging proteins and then shipping them off with little bows down to his nutsack. Nucleic acids held semaphores at each turn of his nervous system, with all roads leading to his dick. These bastards were organized, determined to spread their code. If Bush has Karl Rove's brain, then Hanz has Karl Rove's dick.

The bar began to fill up, which isn't hard at the Noc Noc because it's little and cozy. Two blond members of the female species made themselves known, and all of a sudden the fellas I was with -- they who had talked of nothing but getting some -- inexplicably turned into simpering, limp-dicked Poindexters. Their posture changed into something like a sixth-grader's waiting outside the principal's office, and they began sipping their beers as if they were drinking a hot beverage après ski. I could see inside Hanz's body immediately. A Level Four Emergency was put out by his pituitary gland, and testosterone reinforcements were deployed with orders to head straight to that part of his brain that controls confidence and self-esteem. Alas, it was no use. Like most of us, Hanz's DNA did not provide his flesh vessel with an abundance of self-assurance. Luckily medical science has found a cure for such circumstances: beer.

Hanz and friends would need a few more before their bravado arrived, and so it was decided to go to Amber, which has a large selection of beautiful women and men, plus nice bartenders and good music -- a cocktail of DNA and chance.

I suppose when it comes down to it, girls thrive under the same circumstances; we just mask our lust better. We have to, or you fuckers will call us cheap, easy sluts with an open-cooch policy. (My e-mail address can be found at the end of the column.)

We had intended to go barhopping, but truly, though I do enjoy these fellas, I didn't feel like being a cock block all night long. And by the way, who decided to slip in a Coldplay record at the Noc Noc? I'm sorry, but that band is the Bruce Hornsby of the new millennium, and I will have none of it.

We exited, and, out in the crisp Lower Haight air, Hanz was laughing about some chick he had met at some point in his life. "Carry on, carry on," said his DNA, suddenly a fat British constable trying to direct traffic. "Step lively." The guys scooted down the street and into the next bar on their list. As for me, my gene pool directed me homeward. I needed my beauty sleep.


Postscript: Young Hanz indeed got lucky that night. As the clock reached its ebb, his genetic material was really getting antsy, and a 40-ish drunken babe who had just returned from a funeral earlier that day seemed as good a host as any. Apparently she slathered his Karl Rove in olive oil before fellating him, taking this whole "cooking with nucleotides" image just a little too far.

About The Author

Katy St. Clair

Related Locations

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Slideshows

  • Nevada City and the South Yuba River: A gold country getaway

    Nestled in the green pine-covered hills of the Northern Sierra Nevada is the Gold Rush town of Nevada City. Beautiful Victorian houses line the streets, keeping the old-time charm alive, and a vibrant downtown is home to world-class art, theater and music. The nearby South Yuba River State Park is known for its emerald swimming holes during the summer and radiant leaf colors during autumn. These days the gold panning is more for tourists than prospectors, but the gold miner spirit is still in the air.

    South Yuba River State Park and Swimming Holes:
    The park runs along and below 20 miles of the South Yuba River, offering hiking, mountain biking, gold panning and swimming. The Highway 49 bridge swimming hole is seven-miles northwest of Nevada City where Highway 49 crosses the South Yuba River. Parking is readily available and it is a short, steep hike to a stunning swimming hole beneath a footbridge. For the more intrepid, trails extend along the river with access to secluded swim spots. The Bridgeport swimming hole has calm waters and a sandy beach -- good for families and cookouts -- and is located 14 miles northwest of Nevada City. Be sure to write down directions before heading out, GPS may not be available. Most swimming holes on the South Yuba River are best from July to September, while winter and spring can bring dangerous rapids. Always know the current before jumping in!

    Downtown Nevada City
    The welcoming, walkable downtown of Nevada City is laid back, yet full of life. Start your day at the cozy South Pine Cafe (110 S Pine St.) with a lobster benedict or a spicy Jamaican tofu scramble. Then stroll the streets and stop into the shop Kitkitdizzi (423 Broad St.) for handcrafted goods unique to the region, vintage wears and local art “all with California gold rush swagger,” as stated by owners Carrie Hawthorne and Kira Westly. Surrounded by Gold Rush history, modern gold jewelry is made from locally found nuggets and is found at Utopian Stone Custom Jewelers (301 Broad St.). For a coffee shop with Victorian charm try The Curly Wolf (217 Broad St.), an espresso house and music venue with German pastries and light fare. A perfect way to cool down during the hot summer months can be found at Treats (110 York St.) , an artisan ice cream shop with flavors like pear ginger sorbet or vegan chai coconut. Nightlife is aplenty with music halls, alehouses or dive bars like the Mine Shaft Saloon (222 Broad St.).

    The Willo Steakhouse (16898 State Hwy 49, Nevada City)
    Along Highway 49, just west of Nevada City, is The Willo, a classic roadhouse and bar where you’re welcomed by the smell of steak and a dining room full of locals. In 1947 a Quonset hut (a semi-cylindrical building) was purchased from the US Army and transported to its current location, and opened as a bar, which became popular with lumberjacks and miners. The bar was passed down through the decades and a covered structure was added to enlarge the bar and create a dining area. The original Quonset beams are still visible in the bar and current owners Mike Byrne and Nancy Wilson keep the roadhouse tradition going with carefully aged New York steaks and house made ingredients. Pair your steak or fish with a local wine, such as the Rough and Ready Red, or bring your own for a small corkage fee. Check the website for specials, such as rib-eye on Fridays.

    Outside Inn (575 E Broad St.)
    A 16-room motel a short walk from downtown, each room features a unique décor, such as the Paddlers’ Suite or the Wildflower Room. A friendly staff and an office full of information about local trails, swimming and biking gets you started on your outdoor exploration. Amenities include an outdoor shower, a summer swimming pool and picnic tables and barbeques. Don’t miss the free vegetable cart just outside the motel in the mornings.

    Written and photographed by Beth LaBerge for the SF Weekly.

  • Arcade Fire at Shoreline
    Arcade Fire opened their US tour at Shoreline Amphitheater to a full house who was there in support of their album "Reflector," which was released last fall. Dan Deacon opened the show to a happily surprised early audience and got the crowd actively dancing and warmed up. DEVO was originally on the bill to support Arcade Fire but a kayak accident last week had sidelined lead singer Mark Mothersbaugh and the duration of the west coast leg of the tour. Win Butler did a homage to DEVO by performing Uncontrollable Urge.

Popular Stories

  1. Most Popular Stories
  2. Stories You Missed