Pages

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Tattle-Tale

     By now, you know that I take the time to write these little stories about things that have happened in my life, weird people I see in public, experiences, lessons, so on and so forth, etc. etc. blah blah.  It’s what I do.  I’ve told stories about my husband (The Yankee), my daughter (Buttercup), my best friend (Pocahontas), my cousin (Fran), and a plethora of strangers whose names I’ve never heard.   I’ve reported the good, the bad, and the indiscriminately stupid.  I’ve reported on everything and everyone … except myself.   

      I realized the other day that I haven’t told you about some of my own “weirdnesses”, and trust me there are plenty.  So, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, here are some of the things I have caught myself doing that I would have already turned into a blog post if it were anyone else.

      I talk to inanimate objects like they can actually respond to me.  Vacuum cleaner clogged?  No worries.  A well-placed insult will do the trick.  Television not behaving?  Leave it to me.  We’ve had this talk before.  I was reading my e-mail one day and received a particularly snarky (and wholly unwarranted) response from someone named Terry.  “What?!”, I shouted at the screen.  “Are you kidding me?!?  What made you think you could talk to me like that and call yourself being helpful, huh?”  Just then, The Yankee walks in the room and said, “Who are you yelling at?”  I snarled my lip as I grumbled, “I’m not yelling.  I’m having a productive, cathartic conversation with Terry.”  Without batting an eye he said, “Oh, is that what you’ve named our computer screen now?”  He patted the screen, “Hang in there, Terry.”  Jerk. 

      My cell phone has a voice activation feature that allows me to yell a name into the speaker and have the number dialed for me.  Not a bad idea for someone like me who is always on the move AND has fat fingers that hit 2 buttons at a time.  The only problem with this marvel of modern technology is that it is more sensitive than a henpecked florist.  So, a few weeks ago, I threw my purse in the passenger seat of my car and started the engine.  That’s when I heard it: “Please say a command”.  I was slightly taken aback by this computerized voice coming from somewhere inside my car when I heard it again, “Please say a command.”  I realized in my haste to throw my purse to the other side, the force of the mild impact had triggered the voice activation mode.  I pulled the phone out and hit “cancel”.  I threw the purse to the passenger seat so I could back out of my parking space when I heard it again, “Please say a command”.  Irritated, I picked up my purse, opened the top, poked my head in, and screamed “CANCEL!  CANCEL YOU IDIOT!”  Relieved my purse had finally stopped talking to me, I looked up just in time to catch my own reflection in the store window. 

       I.  Looked.  Stupid. 

      What other woman on earth would have her head crammed in her purse, screaming at it?  No one, and that’s just it.  It’s one of my “weirdnesses” I mentioned earlier.  You might have had a conversation or two with your appliances, but I dare say you haven’t had your screaming head buried in your purse. 

     We all do ridiculous things when no one is looking.  Have you ever cranked some song you’re embarrassed to admit you like, boogied with the vacuum cleaner, and hoped upon hope no one could see in your windows?  Have you ever “walked like an Egyptian” in front of the mirror after you get out of the shower?  Have you ever picked your nose because you were too lazy to get up for a tissue?  Have you ever tried out a new accent on strangers at the gas station?  Of course you have.  And if I see you do it, I’m going to write about it. 
 

© Bertha Grizzly 2011.  All Rights Reserved.  No duplication or distribution.


No comments:

Post a Comment

All comments become the sole property of Bertha Grizzly. Positive comments always welcome. Negative comments may be deleted, ridiculed, or made the uncredited, uncompensated, unwitting topic of a future blog post.