Friday Night Vent
I'm pissed. And not in the way I ought to be on a Friday night.
I ought to be sitting on the Terrace, enjoying the glorious weather and a view of Lake Mendota, while killing a pitcher or two.
Instead, I'm at home, writing a blog entry while waiting for my frozen pizza to warm up.
Why? Because I got blown off.
I made plans for beers on the Terrace with my friend, L. And I went, and all was well for about half an hour. Then a half dozen of her friends from her department showed up. (Who, as an aside, are rude, rude, rude. Only one of them bothered to introduce himself, and they all proceeded to have a bunch of insidery conversations. And we were sharing a table with another couple because seating was seriously scarce and I thought it was just L. and me. Despite my repeated hints that we should move to someplace with more room, L.'s friends just sat themselves down and squeezed out the other couple. Rude!) So, okay, a larger group than I had expected. I'll go with the flow. I wasn't thrilled, but whatever. I was outside, enjoying a beer, watching a dog frolic in the water, just letting my mind wander. Then, my peripheral hearing picks up L. telling someone else that she won't be staying long because she and a couple of the others have plans.
At no point had L. told me that she could only stay for an hour. Because if she had, I (a) wouldn't have come all the way to campus, which is a twenty-minute bus ride each way and (b) wouldn't have gone in on a pitcher only to drink one beer.
So I'm pissed that I got myself dressed in something other than sweats, took the bus all the way to campus, and bought a pitcher of beer only to stay for one hour, during which time I drank one beer.