Friday, June 12, 2015

Gossip Girls

I went looking for the scissors, resulting in a fifteen minute search in various drawers and cabinets, only to remember in the back of my mind seeing them somewhere but nowhere in particular, leading to a distressing two-minute reverie on dementia, Alzheimer's and the trailer to the movie Still Alice, which I cried through. (A was giving me a serious side-eye during that whole drama. It's not even the whole MOVIE, mom, with a you're-so-ridic tone.)

I am still not in love with this new laptop, but only because I am technology-challenged and also stuck in my old ways. So the next fifteen minutes into this two-sentence blog post I spent trying to figure out how to highlight a sentence (or just give me a couple of words, man) so I could give you the link to the movie trailer so you could cry, too. As you can see, I was only successful in highlighting one word. One. But I believed it was time to give up on: See Help Topics on: HOW DO YOU HIGHLIGHT A WORD and move on. (For the love, could someone please teach me how to operate in the 21rst century.)

Last night I had to volunteer in the Baseball Concession Stand, which I avoid at all costs until Jon emails me, which is how we have resorted to communicating, asking me to "please consider volunteering in the concession stand", and I have no other option other than to volunteer in the concession stand. Here's my first observation about a concession stand: I will never, ever eat any food in any concession stand ever again. Unless it's prepackaged. But if you know me, then you know prepackaged isn't high on the list of "Things I Like to Eat". Avoiding food that you don't like is a first-world problem. My kids are good at displaying their first-world problems with statements such as this spaghetti noodle has touched that mushroom and therefore I cannot eat anything on my plate because it has been contaminated and I looked through the entire kitchen AND refrigerator and there is NOTHING TO EAT and I'm starving.

I was late to my shift because two of my people had to be at two different fields at the same time. People should know just to start the show without me. Which he did. This also means that I had to learn the job on the fly, which is a sin to hungry hotdog-with-chili eaters (don't read the label!!!!!!, my friend said to me. I should have listened to my friend). Conversation was limited to I have a daughter playing softball and how do you use the cash register and let's wrap these hotdogs in a bun in some aluminum foil and we end up wasting a lot of food and sorry, we're all out of toilet paper (Bad news for the ladies room. FYI: BYOTP, mkay? Better safe than sorry.) and then it got really interesting somewhere around what team are you from because my answer wasn't just the Pirates, it was so what gossip do you know about the Pirates? 

I'm positive there are lots of "thou shalts" about listening to gossip, and probably lots more about jumping all the way in the pool named DIRTY LAUNDRY. As in, you shouldn't do it. My mom was always of the "don't believe it, don't listen to it, don't do it" mindset, until something really juicy came up, and then the non-gossiper herself was hooked. I have never been one to deny my tendency toward inclining mine innocent ear toward scandal and intrigue. But when he answered my question with actual gossip, I was a little bit surprised. Well, the coach...he started, and that's all I needed to hear for him to have my full attention. I listened for a few minutes about the team and the coach before he was off on another topic, but I got my earful.

Maybe I should have mentioned that THE COACH IS ALSO MY HUSBAND.

Awkward.

I figure one of two things: either he wanted me to repeat what he was saying so it would get back to Jon, or he really wasn't being very careful. In any event, a) what he was saying wasn't even accurate and b) obviously I'm going to tell. There is some gossip you don't repeat, but even the person being gossiped about deserves to know what is being said behind their back.

Jon and I have been together long enough to have a secret language, which is really fun when you're around other people. We can finish each other's sentences, and ask half-questions. "Does he/she even know?" is a question we ask a lot, and it can be about anybody. This is a question that should be asked about someone who obviously HAS NO CLUE. And the answer is always "he has no freaking idea", basically implying that person who doesn't know is acting like (careful, I didn't say he or she is) a complete moron. I can say that because we are all guilty of it at some point in our short blips on earth. (Related: when you are acting like a moron and someone else calls you out, it is a good idea to look inward.)

Will the whole thing blow over, or will it blow up, and if it does, whose face will it blow up in?

I guess only time will tell. But for now, I'm reminded that idle talk can hurt, whether it's intended to or not. Sometimes it's fun to be the first to know, or to be in the know, and maybe that's just how people are. (A has ears that can hear a gossipy word from eighty miles away, making it very difficult to tell a story about her. DID YOU SAY MY NAME, I KNOW I HEARD MY NAME, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME, I WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU ARE SAYING while she is practically sitting in your lap is her modus operandi. J, on the other hand, is completely oblivious. She also stands over my shoulder LIKE SHE IS DOING RIGHT NOW and tries to read.)

My mother always told me be careful of who you love
and be careful of what you do because the lie becomes the truth.
{if you don't know that song, I honestly don't know what to even tell you}

My mom also always told me to be careful of what you say...it may come back and bite you in the rear one day.

Gossip is the Devil's radio.
{george harrison}

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