Mr. Social
Not only did I have dinner plans on Friday, but I had lunch and dinner plans on Saturday, and some friends drove all the way down from the North Shore just to have breakfast with us on Sunday. I feel pretty damn lucky this weekend.

The Regular
The GF and I have been going to the same restaurant nearly every Sunday for the last year and a half. Today, we were set to meet two of our North Shore friends there. I thought it was pretty cool that these two were not only driving way out of their way to see us at what I consider pretty early on a Sunday morning, but were actually crossing the Massachusetts Mason-Dixon line, to do it.

Now, if you know anything about Massachusetts, you know that people from the North Shore and people from the South Shore are divided not only by the Mass Pike, but by their complete and utter ignorance of each other. South Shore people descended from the merchant class, and think of all North shore towns as being and extension of the high-haired, Camaro driving, gum chewing town of Revere. The North Shore folk, being descended from old Fishing money think of the South Shore being an extension of the high haired, Camaro driving, gum chewing town of Quincy. Both are impressed when they cross the Pike and see houses without wheels and lawns without junk cars on them. Show either a mansion on the opposite shore, and they can’t even fathom how it might’ve arrived there. Needless to say, North and South in this stupid state don’t mix socially all that often, so even though they only live 45 minutes away, I was impressed that they were coming down.

The GF and I arrived at the restaurant a little early and our friends weren’t there yet, so I suggested the GF stay in the car while I went in to put our name in. Due to the humid swamp hanging in the air trying to pass itself off as a Massachusetts summer, and the cool dry air flowing around the inside of the car, the GF protested very little.

When I got to the desk, I greeted the Host with a hearty “Hey! How’s it goin’?” as I normally do, which I followed up with “Jon for 4.”

“I know who you are. You’ve only coming in here once a week for a year and a half,” the host said smiling incredulously.
“You’re right, we have. What is your name, though?”
“I’m Wes. Nice to finally officially meet you.”
“Hello, Wes. Nice to finally meet you, too.”

And there it was. I was pretty proud of myself for finally getting to know the name of the host at a restaurant that I’ve been going to on a weekly basis for the last year and a half. And I’m very impressed that people would drive 45 minutes just to see us. Does anyone else seem to think that this screams “socially inept?”

Me too. But, I’m a regular now, I’m happy. Don’t bring me down. (Brrrruce)

Movie Review #10820420
The Secret Window (drama): My grandmother used to say that if you can’t say anything nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all. So, I won’t. D-.

Posted in Misc., Movies