It reminds me of a time I was at my brothers' house with friends and an old friend of all of ours stopped by from out of town with his new-ish girfriend. The group got into discussing our friend Christine & Jay's recent wedding.
The girlfriend knew my brother but not me, because since she came along I'd been at college in Virginia, so her familiarity with the schematics of our friend group was limited, to say the least. She couldn't recall my bro sitting at her table at the wedding, and he told her (at the table right next to theirs with me, others).
So she goes "Oh yeah, you were at that table with a bunch of nobodies, now I remember."
I couldn't help it. I'ma admit right here. Part of my venom was a holdover for the 16-year-old version of me who had the most massive crush ever on her boyfriend, finally getting to spill some spaghetti sauce on his girlfriend's pretty little white tank top of cuteness...
I just said, "Yeah, he sat over at the table with all of us other people who've known Chris & Jay for more than four months." Room goes silent. Victory.
That whole thing about assuming is so got-damned true. Where do people get off?
It reminds me of this girl I work with…last year everyone was chatting about their Halloween costumes, as our radio station was having a big party in AC. Miss Thing thought she was supercool because her & her friends were going to dress up like the cast of Gilligan’s Island. Now, I’m not generally a one-upper. I wasn’t even THAT stoked to tell anyone about the costumes my friends and I had planned. BUT, since we were going to the same party, and my friends & I happened to also be planning a group costume, I thought I’d share. So I told her about the Seven Duffs. No joke, she just said “You have six friends?” What a whore! You don’t know me! Just because I don’t come crawling in here every Monday morning and recount every minute, shot-by-shot of my weekend of debauchery, throwing out names that (a. could be fake people anyway and none of us would ever be the wiser and (b. no one cares about, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.
The lesson? We’ll take it from the bonafide crackhead who once threatened to “put my head through the wall” when I tried to suggest that my friend didn’t mean to interrupt her cell phone conversation in a crowded club bathroom by shouting to a peeing me in the stall, “YOU DON’T KNOW ME!”
1 comment:
My aunt used to drag me and my brother into expensive stores my mom could not afford when we were children. Her mistake was in assuming we would want to go in the first place. I could care less if your pants are 200 dollars and mine are twenty. Can your ass draw? Can you rap like Notorious B.I.G.? What, then??!
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