Friend: “What was that movie about the guy who was trying to complete his rock collection?”

Me: “Uh, doesn’t ring any bells?”

Friend: “Seriously? You dragged me to see it! It made no sense, and it was like three hours long, but I remember the rocks.”

Me: “I really have no idea what movie you’re talking about. Is anyone famous in it?”

Friend: “No one I remember. Oh, wait, the guy was purple.”

Me: “The rock collecting guy was purple?”

Friend: “Yeah.”

Me: “Are you talking about The Avengers?!”

Friend: “Yeah! How come you forgot about it when you’re the one who dragged me there?!”

Today, there was a grandma in our parking lot with a toddler out of his stroller. She was standing there texting while the baby walked around.

I was getting something out of my car, and I noticed how far away from her the kid was. I called out to her:

Me: “Hey! He’s getting away!”

She never looked up from her phone. 

I got my item out of my car, and the kid was now moving really fast, and another customer was yelling at her. She still never looked up from her phone. I tapped her shoulder.

Me: “The baby is too far away!”

She finally started after him, still not looking up from her phone.

When she got to him, she scolded him, which made the baby cry and lie down on the ground, very close to the driveway entrance.

She continued to tap away on the phone while the baby lay there in a tantrum.

I stopped to talk to the other customer. I then spotted the baby walk right into the driveway while Grandma Oblivious was still enraptured by her phone.

At this point, I stormed over to her:

Me: “Ma’am!….Ma’am!… Ma’am!”

I finally had to tap her shoulder vigorously, shouting:

Me: “You have to get out of the driveway! Cars drive in here really fast! This is dangerous!”

I got a mild response of:

Grandma Oblivious: “Oh… thank you…”

She did finally take the kid back to his stroller, scolding him all the while.

I sure wish I could find the baby’s parents to tell them grandma is not a suitable caregiver.

Back in 2000ish, my dad and I were at a convention. It ran stuff for seventy-two hours straight, so sleep was optional. 

It’s about 6 AM, and we’re headed up to our room. We got on the elevator, and an older couple joined us. They were not part of our ragtag convention. In an aloof voice, the man requested:

Man: “Please depress button three.”

Whereupon my dad looked at the display panel and started in with:

Dad: “You’re not all that great a button. You’re dimmer than the rest, you’re dirty, and completely out of alignment.”

Then he turned to the couple and said:

Dad: “There, that button should be depressed now.”

The woman was looking amused; the man looked like he was rethinking so many life choices.

I’m waiting at the pickup at the elementary school with the other parents. One of the other moms, a friend, is looking tired.

Friend: “If I hear one more screaming from that d*** six-seven meme thing, I will do something I regret.”

Me: “Yeah, that used to be an issue in our house too.”

Friend: “Used to? How did you get them to stop?”

Me: “Oh, that’s easy. My husband and I started doing it too.”

Friend: “You… would go nuts when you heard six to seven?”

Me: “Yeah! In fact, we started orchestrating it so we could do it first, and in front of the kids. Nothing ruins the popularity of a meme more than your parents doing it. They stopped by the end of the day.”

Friend: “It can’t be that simple.”

Me: “Just try it!”

We pick up our kids and leave. I don’t see that friend for a couple of days, but when I do, she wordlessly walks up to me, gives me a big hug, and whispers into my ear a thank you.

It’s New Year’s Day, and our friendship group is having our first meal of the year. We’re recounting interesting New Year celebrations of our past.

Me: “Anyone remember Y2K?”

Friend #1: “Yeah, that s*** scared so many people.”

Friend #2: “I just remember everyone being amazed about the millennium changing. I was ten, so I didn’t get the magnitude, but it was insane. All our family friends had come over, so maybe seventy people. Dancing until 5 AM and several grandmas doing the Macarena in unison. We still find the glitter from that party in the nooks and crannies of the house. Everyone had a blast and only left once my dad suggested breakfast.”

Friend #1: “Why? Is he that bad of a cook?”

All of us stopped to look at him.

Friend #1: “What?”