As children we all learned this- when we see a hot stove, do we put our hand on the burner?
As adults, have we all learned this?
When we see a crazy lady, do we be her friend?
While sitting innocently enough at my friend Jamie's martini bar, at first I thought "Amanda" was Marge's friend; therefore I was quite nice and treated her graciously, as I would anyone.
When I began to notice Amanda, in her black and red leopard print bling-bling infused blouse, full of random "fucks", "shits" and "mercy!" was something of a whackjob, I casually inquired,
"So Marge, how do you and Amanda know each other?"
"Oh, we don't. I was sitting here and she pulled up a chair."
But the deal was, Amanda was 73 if she was a day, and I have been taught to respect my elders. I continued to be congenial even when she, rather in a drunken state asked-
"Who are you really, Mary?"
(Amanda is from England. She refused to say my name correctly at all, because, "It is far too long.")
"Who am I really? I'm an entrepreneur."
"So what. And?"
"And I can take you or leave you."
"Oh, jolly good! In that case, I'd like you to come over to my home after this. We'll open a bottle of wine and put on some music. Will you come?"
Even though she liked Miles Davis and John Coltrane and had a great copy of Dorothy Parker and her husband died four years ago and she's very lonely and she owns a bangin' sea green Christian Dior hat from the 1960's perfect for our Retro Dinner Club, and "Don't fuck with me- I have so much more money than you do", she said for no apparent reason- I've seen enough of this personality type to know that it's not a match.