It finally snowed here tonight in Wisconsin. I was somewhat baffled by this event, since it would have usually happened 3-4 months ago, and previously didn't rain down in such a happy, Americana, "look at all of the cute snow" ways when it did. But, alas, tonight was Wisconsin's night to be cute and snowy for no particular reason.

I decided that tonight would be the ideal time to go out traipsing, and to experiment with my mostly-unused digital camera. These are the items I became aware of on my 45 minute walk through 2 inches of fluffy snow while snapping pictures and running from paranoid Midwesterners who thought that the tripod in my bag was a rocketlauncher:

A)There is a herd of rabbits that are plotting a takeover of suburban...suburbia. I'm not kidding. I saw bunny tracks in 19 of every 20 lawns I passed. The bunnies are coming. I urge you to prepare yourselves. Fight the BUNNIES! They are a fanged breed, and their destination is your BLOOD!!

B) You can get away with almost anything by telling people that, "It's for my class." Tonight, an angry, half-clad redneck in Packerwear (the parts he was actually clad in were, that is) came storming out of his house to see what the lone flash of light from the street was. "Hey, what'reyadoin'," he inquired of me in a mysteriously Southern accent. "Takin' pictures for class," I replied, "hope I didn't disturb you."
"Oh."

I haven't been in school in over a year, and I've been told this "it's for art class" approach works (my husband hung himself in a tree and told the cops who came to collect the dead body it was for art, and they believed it, so I assume this isn't just me...). I think I might try to see what else I can get away with in the name of art-for-college education.

C) Kids will always go to get wasted in a somewhat public place. I don't know why this is, since they will face the inevitible police raid, but for some reason they don't learn that they should drive a mile out of town and have a bonfire in a field, instead of, say, the public park placed against a GIANT FROZEN LAKE. What chance of escape do you have there?!?! "Yes, let's all drunkenly run out on the lake, a veritable tundra (with some dangerous holes to fall through, of course), and we'll see who makes it back in okay. Fun game, no?"

D) I really hate this town (Oshkosh, WI). I lived here before I moved to D.C., and my hatred of it became so entrenched that I decided dating a Catholic-straightedger, moving halfway across the country, and paying $20,000 for art school was a good way to escape it.

E) I'm thinking about becoming a lawyer, oddly enough.

F)I miss The Dirtfarm, and I miss hiding from cops in the woods with hardcore bands (and Jenny) after a rousing fireworks display in the scary park. I would really, really love to come visit, but I can't until someone hires me for a job and I have enough money that I can finally pay my share of rent, and I go bed at a reasonable hour, in order to get up for work.

G) Come visit me in Wisconsin. It's mighty surreal here. I'll take you ice-fishing.

I live in the middle of a bunch of Fucking Rich Assholes.

I hate it. I hate it so much, it makes me want to scream. I have more in common with my neighbor's housekeepers than I do with them. Anne and I are 33 and 30. Most of our neighbors are in their 50s. Her kids play with kids whose parents are the same age as MY parents.

I fucking hate these people. Not because they're old, not because they're rich, but because they are Fucking Rich Assholes. You know the type: they look down on everyone as they drive off to tennis at the club in their matching Lexuses (Lexii?)

So.

Tonight, Anne and I had to go to a screening for "Neverland," which we both worked on. We didn't think we'd be back until 10, and arrainged for the boys to go to a sitter. The boys aren't crazy about this sitter, because her house is small, and there isn't much to do there. They also complain that it smells funny.

I have been pushing for a hot teenage babysitter for several years, but it hasn't happened, so they were set to go to the smelly house for the evening.

Anne and I were planning on leaving at 6. Around 4:30, Ryan started bitching about going to the sitter. (He's 13, so he has two modes: bitch and sulk.) He asked to go to a friend's house instead. We told him that wasn't a good idea, because we'd be out late, and it's a school night. Ryan wouldn't take no for an answer, and went to work on Anne. Nolan walked in, and double-teamed her untl she gave in.

Nolan called one of his friends, the son of one of these Fucking Rich Assholes, and asked if they could spend the evening there. Anne spoke with Mr. Fucking Rich Asshole, and told him that we would be in Culver City, and wouldn't be back until sometime between 9:30 and 10, closer to 10. He agreed, and we dropped the kids there.

I was against it. I don't know these people at all. The few times I've dropped Nolan off there to play, Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole has sneered down his nose at me, and Mrs. Rich Fucking Asshole has spoken to me like I'm one of her teenage children. We don't know them well enough to impose like this, but the kids had done a very effective job of playing on mom's emotions while she was racing to get ready. I was racing to make dinner, so by the time I found out what was happening, it was too late.

We dropped the kids at 6:30, and went to the screening.

The movie is amazing! It's better than I'd ever hoped, and I spent a long time after talking to distributors, executives and other industry types. We didn't leave until 11:50.

I called Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole. I apoligized, and told him that I'd gotten caught up at the screening, and we were racing back as fast as we could. He asked me how late we'd be, and I told him that we were most likely looking at 30 minutes. We'd be picking up the kids as quickly as possible, but but it was likely that we'd be there at 10:30.

He sarcastically said, "Wow." And hung up the phone!

So I turned to Anne, and asked her if they understood that we may run late. Apparently, they did not.

I felt terrible. These people are Rich Fucking Assholes, but I felt like they agreed to one thing, and something different happened. I urged Anne to drive like a maniac to get us home in time.

She did, and we made great time -- for two miles, when we got caught in the traffic from Staples Center letting out.

My stomach turned itself into knots, and I cursed a lot. We finally pulled into their driveway at 10:28.

We ran up the walk, and knocked on the door.

Mrs. Rich Fucking Asshole opened it, Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole standing right behind her. Her arms folded across her chest, her righteously indignant look fixed firmly upon her face, she glared at me while I apologized.

"I'm very sorry that we're so late. This was an Industry screening of a film we both worked on, and I had to --"

"You are very rude. I have to say that right away." She declared. Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole stood behind her, and smirked at us.

"I thought that you two knew that we were at an Industry screening, and that we may run a bit late --"

She cut me off again. "Then you should have left. We didn't know if you were dead, and we were responsible for your children." Her voice rose, and her nostrils flared. "You called us at 10! 30 minutes late!" She was nearly yelling at me now. "NINE THIRTY MEANS NINE THIRTY! "

When she stopped to breathe in, I gently said, "I completely understand that you're upset. I guess all I can do now is apologize. I feel terrible that this happened. When Nolan called your son --"

"It is not the children's responsibility to set these things up." She declared. Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole continued to stand behind her and smirk at me. He adjusted his glases and exhaled. She went on,"you should have spoken to us directly! This is the rudest --"

Now it was my turn to cut her off. I remained calm, and said, "Nolan called your house because he didn't want to go to the sitter. Anne and I were both running around our house, trying to get them ready to leave --"

"That doesn't change the fact that you didn't speak to us directly!" She interrupted, again.

Anne cleared her throat, and said, "I did speak with your husband. I told him that we were going to this screening, and we wouldn't be back until 9:30, or 10. I told him that it would be closer to 10."

At this point, Mr. Rich Fucking Asshole, who had silently smirked at us while Mrs. Rich Fucking Asshole tore into us like we were teenagers who'd stayed out past curfew, finally spoke up.

"She did speak with me," he said. He was very proud of himself.

And I hoped that he was, the rich fucking asshole. He stood there, and allowed his hysterical asshole wife to tear into us, without ever telling her that he KNEW we may not be back until 10.

Before she could speak again, I decided that I'd had enough. I had offered my apology, and taken responsibilty for fucking up. When I realized that she wasn't interested in an apology, but just wanted to put us in our place, I said, "Mrs. [Rich Fucking Asshole], I don't know what else to tell you. I'm am very sorry that this happened. I can't change it, but it won't happen again. I don't know what else to tell you."

I could tell that this took her by surprise. She hadn't prepared for me to be genuinely contrite. So she just said, "Well, then I guess we're done."

And closed the door in our faces.

We walked down the driveway, and went home.

See, I really did feel badly. I still do. I understand that they felt taken advantage of, and that they were upset by that. However, I apologized, and if she'd stopped interrupting me, I could have better explained the situation. I spoke about it with Anne when we got home, and we reached a few conclusions:

1. The phone works both ways. They had our cell numbers. If they were so concerned that we were dead, they could have called us, right?

2. She didn't want an apology. She wasn't interested in it. She treated us the way Rich Fucking Assholes treat waiters, house keepers, and others who they think are beneath them. I think it took her completely by surprise that I apologized, and tried to clarify what had happened, rather than cowering.

I can't wait to move out of this bullshit fucking place, and live near normal people again.