I had an interesting long weekend. It started with catching “The Social Network” Friday night and ended with fielding a text message late Monday night from a boy who has no business owning, let alone using, my number anymore.
Let’s start with the movie. I liked it. I know a lot of it was exaggerated for dramatic effect, and I know there has been some criticism of how women are portrayed, but it’s a Hollywood film, and I am totally alright with some suspension of reality for the sake of entertainment. If you’ve seen the movie, you should also read the Vanity Fair piece on Sean Parker. It’s interesting.
Saturday night, I went out with a close friend and a couple of friends of hers whom I’ve met once before. They’re terrific. They’re also parents, and the woman launched into a hysterical monologue about her ongoing battle with lice. Every time she thinks she’s killed them for the last time, her kids come home infested again. She’s run experiments like dropping a bug in a mug of water to see if it would drown. It didn’t. It just swam unfazed for more than two hours. I heard all about over-dried bedding, frozen hair accessories, and toxic shampoo. It sounded miserable, but this woman has such a great sense of humor about the whole ordeal that I couldn’t help but think, “Now that’s the kind of parent I’d like to be – one who takes it all in stride.”
Sunday night I had dinner with a new friend who took me to a lovely restaurant I’d walked past several times but had never been to before. The food was interesting, and the wait staff worked hard to present a refined dining experience. However, they’ve got a mouse. Or several mice. It was tough to tell as the little sucker(s) kept darting back and forth along the floorboards. We were the last two people in the place, and that’s when the mouse (mice?) came out to play. Surprising, yes. But what was even more shocking was the server’s nonchalant reaction to our discovery.
“Yes, we have mice,” he said. “It’s just that time of year. Oh well.”
Color me picky, but I’m not okay with rodents dashing through any dining establishment. To my companion’s credit, even though the conversation was still in full swing, he saw a mouse cross the floor and head our direction and suggested we exit before one of us (namely me) had a close encounter of the creepy kind.
Speaking of creepy, I’m totally over unsolicited late night text messages. If it’s too late to call me, it’s too late to text. And if you suspect I’d have no interest in speaking with you if you did call, save us both the trouble and lose my number.
I don’t have time for crazy.