I know you must be tired of hearing it, but it must be declared again; I’m a lucky girl. Writing for the Weekly Volcano has given me a captive audience to communicate my thoughts and opinions whereas other mere mortals must rely on family and friends for cerebral dumping.



While my influence as a columnist may not be as great as some others, I try to use this power for good and not evil. And as much as I try to be optimistic in any new adventure, experience has taught me to be a pessimist. So when the girls wanted to hit the Masa deck for happy hour last week, I naturally reacted with a slight bit of hesitation.



Masa has a new dance club on the weekends and is beginning to develop a reputation as a haven for the hoochies and pretty young people of Tacoma. I am neither, but curiosity did get the best of me, and off we went for bargain drinks and discounted appetizers.



Walking into Masa confirmed my fears. The hostess was cute, perky and eager to help. The rooftop bar reminded slightly of the swim-up bars in Mexico, minus the pool. The sun was blazing, and I was seeking shade like a vampire at high noon. You see, Sandee had a little photo rejuvination laser work the day before, and we all know what a big no-no the sun can be.



Anyhoo, we saddled up to the bar and did a quick scan of the premises only to discover that our kind was everywhere — Normal, 30-and-older mix of guys and dolls. Where were my hoochies and the pretty young things? I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed.



Soon we were greeted by the smooth talking and cute as a bug bartender, Brandon. He had us at “what’ll you have ladies?” The young Brandon worked this bar like a pro. Balancing drink orders and keeping lively conversation all while never missing an opportunity to rip on a fellow employee for being a guy and wearing huge Paris Hilton type sunglasses. Personally, I think they looked quite smart.



All of 26 years old, young Brandon kept us entertained and our drinks filled. He had a rare gift of not talking up or down to a group of women where some of us are old enough to be his mother. From what I gather, Brandon is 100 percent Brandon at the bar, no additives or preservatives.



It is a well-known fact that women over a certain age love the attention of young men. However I truly believe Brandon’s affection for us seasoned chicks was real. He shared his inner hopes, dreams and even a very recent devastating loss.



At the time of our visit, Brandon had lost his father, Jerry, three weeks ago to a ravaging illness, and he was struggling with his grief. Both my friends have also lost their fathers much too soon, and they tried to encourage Brandon not give in to his grief, but embrace it and look to the future when perhaps in time he’ll be able to experience his father again.



Here’s to you, Jerry Guthrie. You raised a great son.



I truly believe our visit to Masa was serendipitous. Brandon needed to vent about his loss, and we ladies needed a little TLC from a bartender who has a quick wit, mad skills with the liquors and a heart of gold. Plus Sandee learned a lesson: don’t believe everything you hear about a place. Everything about our evening at Masa was great: food, drinks, service, atmosphere, and best of all, friends. Well, almost everything …



Just as we were about to leave, in walked my hoochies with their big bug-eyed glasses, lots of makeup, and boobs that defied gravity. NOW my day was perfect. I’m a lucky girl.



A little note to you, dear Brandon: Be sure to keep that red wine out of the sun. You know how it makes me cringe.



Eat out, Tacoma. We need your love.



[Masa, 2811 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.254.0560]