Well, here we are again. Monday. But for those of us in America anyway (here’s where June acts like she’s an international star with readers worldwide*), this is going to be a weird week, with most of us getting one day off and some of us, like me, working Monday only and then traveling. So it’s sort of Monday and it’s also sort of odd weird one-workday Friday-ish.
*Look, at least one person reads me in England and one in Australia. So shut up.
I worked sort of late Friday, and as I made my way to my car, I saw just my and Wedding Alex’s cars remaining. Two lone workaholics in the night.
I’ve disguised her auto with my fine photo-editing skills, so that you would have no idea that’s Alex’s car and then stalk her and bludgeon her, as you were preparing to do.
Anyway, I sent her this photo via a new form of communication called “The Text” and she received “The Text” and was pleased.
I wonder what the first text I ever got was. I am certain I had texting on my circa-2005 flip phone, which by the way I took to a kiosk in LA and had bedazzled with a pink-gem Eiffel Tower. I also had a Hello Kitty hanging off my flip phone’s antenna. I must have received a text from someone at the time saying, “You’re 40. Stop.”
Oh my god I loved that flip phone. And when the phone rang it played Moonlight Serenade.
I remember watching some movie and this song came on and Marvin said, “Your phone’s ringing,” thinking he was highlarious.
Anyway, I don’t recall my first text.
Also, do you ever think about how you do the last of something but you aren’t aware of it at the time? I was trying to sleep last night and I thought of this parking garage in LA that led straight into a department store I liked, and I thought, one day I walked out of that department store and into that parking garage didn’t realize I’d never do that again.
There was this woman I became friends with at the end of college. She was very classy. She wore a beige pea coat and had beige hair and her parents were rich and she was majoring in art history because hooo care. She took me to her family’s summer home and we hung out on their boat and drank vodka and fresh grapefruit because I didn’t know I was allergic to grapefruit yet, but man did I feel bad the next day.
She was the only person our age I knew who had real pearls.
Anyway when she graduated she came over to my apartment with the oatmeal-colored carpet and gave me her phone number and address and then she was gone and I never saw her again.
I had no idea I’d never see her again. I tried to friend her on Facebook a few years back but she never responded.
It’s weird to think of stuff like that.
Anyway. Speaking of people you’ll never see again except then you do, which is not what we were speaking of but now I’ve segued into this topic so just strap in, partner.
I went to my weekly Friday dinner with my neighbors. Each week it varies wildly. Sometimes 15 of us show up, some weeks four. This week was particularly attended, and I met a nice couple from Massachusetts who bought a house on the next block. They initially looked at my house (“We were the first to look at it!” she said) but they decided on the other house because they were deliberately looking for something to fix up. (“Yours was already fixed up,” she said.)
They were cool, and my neighborhood is becoming more cool, I’m telling you. I wasn’t wrong. Meth deals notwithstanding.
Anyway, what annoys me is I was the second person to look at this house, and it’s really a shame you weren’t around for all that house drama last year. My point is, my realtor (which is technically a proper noun and I sould cap it but I just can’t. Ima be ee cummings of realty today) called the seller’s realtor on speaker right here in this kitchen, and she said, “Someone else looked at it today and they’re interested” and that made me panic and offer full price (you’d still die at the low price) now I think maybe she was full of the shit.
But this is not the story I set out to tell you.
At the restaurant Friday, this fairly young man walked in, and he looked right and me and I at him and I was all, I know him. We made eye contact about 72 times and it was driving me berserk. Why do I know him? He can’t be one of my endless Tinder dates because he’s 30. Or 37. Or 25. They all look the same to me now.
Eventually I got up and asked him. “I work at Mcoul’s,” he said, “I recognized you too.”
Mcoul’s is a pub across the street from where Ned used to live, when he was livin’ downtown, drivin’ all the old men crazy.
We went there, oh, seventy hundred times. They were open on Christmas, so our tradition was to go there Christmas night. They also had brunch, which we attended precisely once when this other couple was auditioning to be our friends. But mostly we went there after our old movies, because it was right in between the movie theater and Ned’s place, and that’s back when I could have wine at 9:00 at night and still function the next day. They were always open during snowstorms. I remember having snow wine there one blustery night.
How did I not recognize that guy? He was our bartender for ages. But anyway, now I’ve placed him. He told me where he worked and right then I knew. Nothing gets past me.
Oh my god we’re not even done with Friday yet.
I also went to two–two!!–two mints in one
movies this weekend. By the way, did we ever learn WHICH two mints were in Certs or did we just watch people knock them together and accept it as fact the way we accepted that the Irish cut soap?
Or the way we accepted that painting chalk was a great way to show us how toothpaste worked?
THE TWO MOVIES I SAW were Ford vs. Ferrari and the Mr. Rogers movie. The reason I saw Ford vs. Ferrari is because Mr. Rogers was sold out, so I settled for that and ended up sort of liking that movie. They even mentioned Fiats and I felt particularly proud.
Then, because I was annoyed I missed Mr. Rogers, as soon as I got up on Sunday, I got online and ordered my ticket for the noon showing and I’m lucky I did because there were a lotta people at that theater even at noon on a Sunday.
I was with actual friends during Ford vs. Ferrari like a normal person who mingles, but on Sunday I was by myself. I sat next to a young-ish woman who was probably 37. Or 25. Anyway, we both wept through that whole movie and when it was over we stood talking in the lobby for a long time about our childhoods, and Mr. Rogers, and what a good person he was, and it was a whole bonding experience till I roofied and raped her.
Oh! And I forgot, in between movies I worked again on our dog-related thing we’re doing at work. This dog is 10 and she’s been at the shelter for six months and she was a lamb. She was completely willing to put any clothing on, whereas Edsel would have fainted clean away.
When Eds meets his maker, I really think I will adopt an older dog like this. I can’t STAND the thought of them endlessly at the shelter while everyone snaps up puppies.
I’d better go. I have my big 8 hours to put in this week. I’d better get my nose on that grindstone.