Things Overheard

Overheard isn’t quite right.  More like, “Things said directly to me that out of context, or even in context, make someone sound like an ass.”

We’ve all done it. My best blunder occurred when I was 16. My boyfriend, a notorious pain-in-the-ass-weirdo,* dumped me. Months I had put up with him and the questions and the constant ups and downs.  I defended him.  I swore I loved him.  And he dumped me. I was indignant. Which led me to leave the following message on a friend’s answering machine:

“Well, Kevin and I broke up.  But not in the way you think.  That asshole dumped me. HE dumped ME! I hate men.  Yes, I even hate you.”

Classy, I know. But I digress.

A close friend of mine recently began again communicating with a high school classmate, Garrett. They had lost touch roughly a year after graduation for a variety of reasons, the largest of which she explained to me with the utmost tact:

“I mean, I couldn’t say, I’m sorry I took your virginity and then stopped talking to you, could I?”

No, no you couldn’t. But I’m glad I got to hear it.

To class acts.




*People used to stop me in the hallway to ask me why I was dating him.  On one particularly memorable occasion, a jock noted that Kevin was wearing a cape, sporting a nametag that read “El Chupacabra,” and leaping through the hallways declaring “I’m a little fairy.”

Jock: “You are dating that fag?”
Me: “Are you planning on using him to start a fire later?”
Jock: “What?”
Me: “Fag…it’s a term for fire kindling…you know what? Nevermind. Yes, yes I am.”
Jock: “He calls himself a fairy.”
Me: “Maybe he means in the Celtic tradition.  You know, scary little things that steal teeth and switch babies.”
Jock: “I’m gonna kick that guy’s ass.”
Me: “Um…ok.”

My day

Today my day started out better than yesterday as I actually slept all the way through to to 5:20 a.m. when my alarm was going to go off at 5:30 a.m.

The day before, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep until 6:25 a.m. (which was then horribly interrupted by my bed mate’s alarm going off at 6:30 a.m.).
So honestly, today really did start out better. Even if when I woke up at 5:20 a.m. a dog then stepped on my foot and it was cold.
Then my day perked up. I found my new motto. Well, at least another new motto. My favorite still being the family motto which is, “Fuck ’em.” Someday I must design a family crest with that emblazoned on it.
My new motto is: Pretend you are right and just move forward. Really this motto is not much different from the family motto, but it does have more syllables. Wait, that makes it harder to embroider onto a pillow. Hmmm…
Then the crash of the day. I called a client, happily told them I’d help them on their message machine. Then got off the phone and started complaining about said client. Shortly thereafter I realized I’d not clicked the button to hang up, but rather hit the button for SPEAKERFUCKINGPHONE. So not only did I maybe record my message and me the subsequently berating them to a colleague but also recorded THE COLLEAGUE berating said author.
Luckily, they are old, so either they didn’t hear it, there is a god (or several as I did go to an Indian place for lunch and may have winked at their Ganesh statue for help and a few other lesser Hindu deities — for the record I first spelled that dieties which is kind of funny — nearby) or maybe it never happened. I’ve talked to them since and they seemed unaware of my verbal thrashing, so, fingers crossed. Luckily I’m pregnant and I can blame everything on the fetus. Might as well, when it’s in therapy later in its life, it will blame me for everything. I’m just getting started early in the parent-child blame game.
In three minutes, I will call another client who is a slow talker who may or may not understand my jokes. I WILL make sure the phone call is disconnected before telling my coworker all about it.