Someone somewhere probably tweeted tonight about the terrible mom who brought her 7 month old baby to The Addiction Bistro in West Hollywood. I’m picturing something like:
- I didn’t order my craft beer and in-house sausage with a side of crying baby, thanks. #pastyourbedtime #crappymoms
It was my friend’s 30th birthday. The main event of the birthday evening was a show that started at 10 — I thought just going to dinner beforehand and skipping the show was a good compromise. When the waitress didn’t even offer us a high chair I realized that we were, in fact, the assholes that brought a baby to a place that’s totally inappropriate to bring a baby. She was good, until she wasn’t, and I ate my dinner one-handed while trying to keep the writhing octopus on my lap from spilling drinks, stabbing herself with a fork, or flinging herself face first into the floor.
On the plus side, I actually have no idea how to finish this sentence, I am pretty sure I had a plan when I started it. Oh well. Good night.