One in every fucking crowd, two or three if the gods have smiled down upon you. You know the one I'm talking about. "OHMYGOD! Did you hear what she just saaaaaaaaaidddd?" Um, no, because I could NOT care less, but please, regale me with all the details at top volume. Stuck in high school, these buffoons and dumbasses haven't bothered to notice that the rest of us have not only grown up, but have developed adult priorities. None of which include what someone just said, did, bought, or whatever. Jumping up and down, flailing their arms like a retarded bird on crack, these people demand your attention day and night. There is always something going on and it must be discussed, RIGHT NOW.
Here's what I have to say about the phone ringing at 3am, if you or an immediate family member are not dead or dying, you have no reason to dial my goddamn phone at that hour. Expect an hour-appropriate response. I'll wake the rest of my house just to tell you off. Yes, I'll take that risk. Once I'm up, I don't care who has to join me. Then we'll all be pissed off at you. Makes you think, huh? Wouldn't running into all of us become really uncomfortable? Maybe by that time, you'll have gained your hearing back in your "phone" ear after I blasted you a new asshole. Years ago, I'd take a call at that hour from a sad friend and listen to her tales of woe for hours. I'm not 16 anymore, and sleep comes before you.
It's not that I don't care. Well, yeah, I guess it is. Reality is harsh, and I feel obligated to dole out daily doses as I see fit. What amazes me the most, is your uncanny ability to choose the absolute worst time to need my ear. The middle of the night is bad, but so is when I am making dinner, doing laundry, waiting in line at Safeway...seems like almost always a bad time. My point is, and I do have one, if you've called me at an inopportune time, it'd be great if you would realize on your own and maturely hang up first. Don't make me be the bitch every time. Much as I enjoy the title, and I do, you take some of the fun out of it by being so friggin pathetic.
Choosing what to wear shouldn't be that hard. At your age, I think you've done it a few thousand or so times on your own. Why must you call me, out of breath from rummaging through your closet and dresser, to ask me if the black flats will go better with the red capris? How the fuck should I know? Am I there? Does it affect me or whether I'm using Shout or OxyClean on my clothing? No to both. I am busy. You should be, too. Busy and old enough to figure out what footwear works for you today.
Did I hear what that bitch said? Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I have an uncanny ability to tune out bullshit and nonsense, so chances are pretty good I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. You heard. You heard, you mulled it over, you've even figured out its relevance to you! Now you want me to pick it apart and draw diagrams and charts proving that, indeed, this all affects you in some way. Then, you want me to rethink the whole thing, and prove how it all makes her a total bitch, and you were SO right. Holy mother of the sweet baby Jesus! I think my head may have exploded all over my cell phone, and I'm pretty positive it voided my warranty. What the hell do you expect to happen after we do this exercise in futility? Will your world change drastically? Will she stop being a bitch? Does it really matter?
It's one thing to call me to have a bitch-fest at someone else's expense. You may or may not have noticed, but I do derive great joy from laughing at others. This is acceptable, if I have time, and if I'm not sleeping. I'll gladly join you in mocking someone's outfit or the absolutely unbelievable bullshit story they told you today. Nothing would make me happier. Well, that's a total lie, but you get my drift. But don't expect me to do it with a spatula in hand or while shoveling the litter box. While fun to do, it's not life-threatening so I'm not going to drop trou and give you my undivided attention.
Calling me practically stumbling over yourself to tell me what happened on your reality show, that, by the way, I don't watch, was your first mistake. Your next was expecting me to engage you in a semi-intelligent conversation about it. I say semi-intelligent because reality shows are borderline Special Ed, and another topic we'll explore one day. I will tell you that I don't know these people, and surprise, you don't either. To hear you talk about them like you just got back from having coffee at Starbucks with these people makes you not too many steps above that borderline. But you not only want to tell me what happened on this past episode, but you want me to assess the situation for you. What situation? Seriously? You DO realize most of this shit is scripted, right? Sorry, I know I made your world come crashing down at your feet, but someone had to do it.
Let's see what we've learned today. Gossip has its place in everyone's life. I fully support it and your right to do so. Hell, I support my right, too. I have no issue being there for you when you really, truly need me. Please assess the actual need first. My patience is limited, as I am getting older. My time is limited because, well, I'm way more important than you realize. Will I answer when you call? Of course. Will I express great concern if you have a real issue? Naturally, I'm considerate that way. Is it ok to call after 11pm? Are you friggin kidding me right now???
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