That one time I realized my friend was a jackass

The other night J and I went to see Terence Malick's The Tree of Life. I've been looking forward to seeing the movie since rumors of it started circling last year, and against my better judgment (but at the urging of J) I invited a friend of mine and his new fiance to join us. Let's call this friend George, and his fiance, Abigail (because that is essentially what they look like to me).

I first met George in grad school in Boston. George is the typical overachiever with a severe case of ADHD, has collected various degrees, ranging from humanities masters to MBA's across this great big ol' country of ours, and has obvious commitment problems when it comes to relinquishing himself to one profession. (He's currently the CEO of a start-up medical IT company that actually seems to be experiencing modest success in its infancy. This after he made multiple appearances on CNBC and CNN talk shows discussing his "first ever virtual magazine" that he launched about three years ago before virtual mags were the norm.) Well, George recently moved to my town (of all places) with his newly minted fiance he met for the first time last year in line at an Auntie Anne's Pretzels in a mall in Los Angeles. Since I am one of only a handful of people he knows in the area, he's been incessantly calling to hang out with J and I. Which is cool, since I love a good cocktail hour, but it can get a little much when you do it for days in a row. I can only handle so much ADHD.

ANYHOO, after (politely) rejecting his invitations for weeks, J suggested we invite them along to see The Tree of Life...just to show we weren't opposed to hanging out or anything. I was on the fence about extending an invitation since the last time I saw a movie with George was when the two of us went to see Walk the Line opening night in Boston. Let's just say it was a disaster, in every sense of the word. And it all culminated with his cell phone ringing on LOUD during one of the most pivotal moments in the film when Joaquin Phoenix undergoes his home detox with Reese Witherspoon. Not only did George's phone ring in the silent, packed theater, he then proceeded to answer it and have a conversation with the person who called as people yelled at us to be quiet. It was mortifying, and visions of the night resurfaced as I hesitantly extended an invite to Tree of Life.

And what do you know? History has a funny way of repeating itself, in not-an-altogether identical way, yet close enough. We met up with George and Abigail outside of the theater, along with their two friends they decided to invite along and not tell us about till the last minute. No biggie, that I don't mind. But after we took our seats and the theater lights dimmed, George proceeded to talk during the entire first 45 minutes of the movie. No joke. I felt like I had entered Hell, since one of the fléaux de mon existence is when people chatter through movies. Granted he wasn't speaking at a normal volume, but it was still above a whisper and that, combined with Abigail's obnoxious giggling every 20 seconds at whatever he was saying, made me want to throw my tub of popcorn in their direction, douse them with my Diet Coke, anything to make them shut up. It only added to the charm of the situation when George kept standing up and walking over to his friends across the aisle to hold actual conversations with them while he was on bended knee. All while the movie played in a semi-packed, darkened theater. Was this really happening?

About an hour into the movie Abigail, who was seated to my immediate left, leaned over to me and said "George says this movie is so depressing that it makes him want to kill himself. We're going to see Midnight in Paris next door..." She followed this with one of her annoying and expectant giggles, as though perhaps I shared the same sentiment. I shot her a straight-faced look that meant "You've got to be kidding me" and simply said "Fine, go." (No giggles from my end, since the movie, though slow in its start, was actually quite good but would have been better if the charming couple seated to my left would have just shut up and tried to understand it.)

A second later George leaned toward me over Abigail's lap. "Are you annoyed that we're leaving to see the other movie?" he asked.

"No," I whispered, turning back to the movie.

"You look annoyed..." he prodded. I quickly turned back to him.

"I'm annoyed because you've been talking through the entire goddamn movie. This is a theater -- STOP TALKING!!!" I hissed. He gave me a look as though it suddenly dawned on him that movie theaters weren't meant to be socialized in like pool halls. Five minutes later he, Abigail, and his charming friends stood up and lurked out the theater doors.

Of course during the rest of the movie he texted me incessantly from next door, asking if J and I would wait outside of their theater for them when we were finished since we had all planned to grab drinks afterward. But when The Tree of Life was over, the last thing I felt like doing was getting a drink with them. I passed their theater  en route to our car and texted that we were just going to head home. His response?

"Sorry for having left....I feel awful."

I snickered at the cow poo I was actually reading on my cell screen. Really, guy? Do you really feel that awful? Because if you did you probably wouldn't have done it in the first place, but since you are one of the most inconsiderate people I have ever met I seriously doubt you even care. And I think that's what pissed me off the most about the whole situation. It wasn't just the fact that getting up and leaving in the middle of a movie you were invited to is what I would call pretty rude, it's also the fact that you had to talk the entire time you stayed. As if the whole world revolves around George and Abigail and everyone else must be expected to laugh along with their thoughtlessness. 

On the way home I questioned why I even bother returning his calls anymore. Not over just what happened that night, but for every similar inconsiderate thing he's done leading up to it.  I don't really want to associate with people who think it's okay to be rude or disrespectful under the guise of of "having fun" or being "funny." The older I get, the more I just find it classless and irritating.

A few days went by and George called again. His message was upbeat yet vague, requesting that I call him back. (I am 99% sure it was to invite J and I out to Mojito Mondays.) As much as I love my mint-flavored cocktails, I can think of 3,000 other people I'd rather grab mojitos with. (Okay, 3,000 is an exaggeration, more like 20 -- 55 if we're counting celebrities and deceased novelists.) So though I'm pretty good about calling people back, I decided he was no longer worth my time and deleted his message without returning the call. 

My life is too short to deal with bullshit.

What I was thankful for yesterday

One of the worst situations of all time

Okay, maybe it could be worse, but I'm currently sitting holed up in my bedroom while my husband and his lug-headed best friend are out in the living room, which they've somehow taken over, playing video games.  Call me crazy or selfish or whatever, but how how the hell did this happen? One minute my husband is telling me over lunch today that his best friend Doug is planning to pick us up from the metro stop after work to take us home since he'd "forgotten something." The next minute I find myself in hell.

What was it Doug had forgotten? A video game console. No biggie, I figured he'd pick it up, have a glass of wine perhaps, and leave. I mean, it is Tuesday night after all and Millionaire Matchmaker is premiering this evening. My plan for the night was to laze around in my negligee and laugh at all of Patti Stanger's bad jokes on Bravo while drinking Two-Buck Chuck out of the bottle. Instead I found myself sitting on the couch net to Doug, his sweaty hands clutching his gaming controller, his tongue sticking out of his half-open mouth in intense concentration, as he and my husband played something that sounded like we were sitting on the sidelines of a battle in Kuwait.

Three hours later? Same thing. I asked politely if we could do something else, but all I get are the token "Yeah, five more minutes" responses that lead nowhere. And what am I supposed to do? Blow up at husband for ruining my night and taking over out living room with Doug? He's check-mated me into submission by having company over like this, and he knows it. Sigh. In the meantime I've moved to the bedroom to get away from the obnoxious shooting sounds and I hope Doug goes home soon. Not that I don't like him, but I CAN'T STAND VIDEO GAMES! They are SUCH a waste of time! (And I know, it's not like anything on Bravo is that much more productive, but something about video games irritates the flip out of me!) 

Right about now I'd love to put on my trannie pumps and clomp all over my husband's stupid video game discs, cackling with glee each time my 4-inch heel punctures the glossy surfaces. But such things are better left to the imagination, I suppose.

Italy is not "alright"

Venice was a major maritime power during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, a staging area for the Crusades and an important center of commerce and art in the 13th century up to the end of the 17th century. I guess it's...alright....

Today at work my friend, B (the one who got proposed to in Paris), signed online to chat for a second while she and her fiance waited in Rome for their flight back home.

This was a big trip that meant more than just that new ring on her finger -- B and Co. had never been to Europe before. They'd saved up for nearly a year for this 10-day trip and were excited to finally see what all the fuss about Europe was about.  They spent the first three days and nights in Paris, which of course is one of the most amazing cities in the world and deserves much more time than just three days, but they adored it all the same. According to her, if she ever wins the lottery she's planning to buy a vacation home there (cue the millions of others -- including me -- who are pining for Parisian vacation homes of their own). 

With her second leg of the trip done, I asked today how she had liked Italy. Her answer?

"It was alright."

And this is basically how I inwardly (thus silently) responded to that answer: 

"Are you *%$@^$# kidding me?"

Okay, so maybe I'm a little biased about Italy. It is my favorite country on Earth and I've had many spectacular memories on that boot-shaped land mass, so perhaps I took it more personally than I should have. It's not like she was trying to insult me, after all, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I just don't think it's fair to spend only FIVE DAYS in an entire country and think you can make an accurate assessment about it -- especially a country as culturally and historically rich as Italy. (This same thinking would go for any European country. No wonder she liked the city of Paris since she spent three whole days there, almost the equivalent amount of time she spent exploring the entire country of Italy.) 

After leaving Paris a day later than expected due to an airport strike, B and Co. arrived in Venice at 6pm and left the following morning. Venice is one of my favorite cities and I know for a fact that you absolutely can't see it all in under three days, minus in under 24 hours. But c'est la vie. Next stop for them was two nights in Florence, which she said "wasn't what she expected." When I asked what she was expecting, she described something that sounded more like the real Tuscan countryside, a medieval village like Sienna perhaps, surrounded by rolling vineyards and picnic baskets and people pedaling past on old Italian bicycles with baskets full of produce attached to the fronts. Regardless -- Florence is an awesome city! Even if it's not what you expected, the difference in perception versus reality is delightful on its own. 

ANYWAY, they spent their last two nights in Rome (only two nights for the former capital of the world -- I'm dying inside!) She said she liked it but it was too touristy. Again, wrong time of year to go, and what did she expect? It's still warm there and the summer crowds are only beginning to wind down since there's...well...a lot to see there. It was, at one time, only the capital of the entire Roman Empire for, oh, 700 years.

No offense to B, but I guess my problem is that I hate when people go Europe (or anywhere, really) for the first time, try to cram 3,000 cities into a week or two, and then grumble about how it wasn't that great, or it wasn't what they expected it to be, or it was just "alright." No one could possibly capture the essence of any one of those sprawling cities in so little time.

So no. Italy is not "alright." It's fabulous.