You may be wondering what I have been up to betwixt moon journaling and hating going to work every morning. No? Well...let me tell you. I have been outsmarted by modern technology, hung out with Barry and the Fanilow's and been outsmarted by technology some more. Very troublesome times, I must say.
My new phone finally arrived. I was pretty happy about this. However, I seem to have purchased much more phone than I actually need, want, or have the capability to work. Turns out that all I basically wanted was my old phone, that I know and love. I got this new uber-fancy phone and figured, "How complicated could it be? My kids, who are flirting with being outsmarted by clever barnyard animals, can use these newfandangled phones. They are lucky to still have opposable thumbs. Seriously. I am a well educated woman, I have got to be able to work this P.O.S phone." Nope. No can do.
Valentine's day? I had nothing at all planned. Really. Nothing. But low and behold, a friend called and said that she had planned to take her grandma to a Barry Manilow concert. Grandma decided that she wasn't up for trying to manage the the stairs at the Staples Center, so she wasn't going to go. Bummer for grandma. Awesome for me.
I'm okay with being plan B, sometimes even C. Ask any guy I have ever dated.
Basically, I was excited by this change of plans on a number of fronts. Who doesn't want to take part in viewing the spectacle that is Mr Manilow? Really, I am somewhat amazed by him,musically, artistically, socially, and most importantly by that inhumane look that he now wears on his post surgery face. What is that....lift to the nth degree? How many times is one time too many? We may have missed that discussion.
And second to Neil Diamond, there is nary a singer around who can toss me back more quickly to my 8 year old self, stuck riding to and from my grandparents house in the old red Chevy Nova being jabbed and poked and prodded from both sides by Red-Squared. It wasn't the songs that made this young girl cry.
Anyway- I digress, V-day non date and I were supposed to meet at some Italian restaurant right next to the Staple's Center. Everything was settled. This day, Valentine's or otherwise, was going to be super bien.
I hate getting lost. I pride myself on never getting lost. I am a freaking Magellan. The last of the great navigators, really. I am AMAZING at freeway's but useless in apartment complexes and malls, but that is neither here nor there.
Back to the story at hand.
How hard could finding this place be. It's in the middle of freaking Downtown, and it has a HUGE RED SIGN. Practically visible from space.
Enter the problem
I got a GPS from my parents for Christmas but haven't really had much need for globally positioning myself as of late. Nonetheless, I decided to trot it out and see what happened.
As you more technically savvy readers may well know, the stupid GPS offers you options for the shortest distance, quickest route, avoid certain streets, etc. I chose the quickest route option and hoped for the best. Me and Kenny, we're gamblers. I thought something was a bit suspect when The All Knowing Machine told me to get on the 405.
Little tidbit for you non-LA-dwellers. The 405 goes to West LA. Nowhere near where I wanted to go Downtown. Heaven forbid I disagree with the machine. I just shut off my internal compass and did what Big Brother told me to do. Once I started falling asleep around Venice/Manhattan Beach, I realized that I had been driving for a REALLY LONG TIME, in a REALLY WRONG DIRECTION.
Turns out the damn machine didn't have some double top secret path planned out that would get me to the Staple's Center in record time, which thing kind of broke my heart a little. It was a stupid, stupid machine, hell bent on making me cry on Valentine's Day. I turned off the GPS, cursed the powers that be for getting me lost and I found my way from the south end of Culver City to the Staple's Center on surface streets. Thank you very much!
After the manner of every bad romantic comedy ever made, I called my friend to report my impending tardiness. When I finally got there 45 minutes late, the wait staff were a little surprised that I was a woman, but to their credit, they took the surprise in stride. "Oh my gosh- I am so glad you showed up. I thought she was getting stood up on Valentines Day!" Wouldn't have been so bad if it was just the hostess that commented, but once seated, every single worker that happened to walk past our table said something about my being so late!
Long story...long. I miss this Barry.
He is reminiscent of a much simpler time. A time when the worst part of my day was being squished between my mean ol' red-headed siblings while on the way to grandma's house. There were cookies to be had there, and if a little poking had to be endured in order for me to get them. That was fine. I like that time. It was a happy time. I miss that time. And I miss Mandy, in a totally hetero way.