Talkies

What have I been doing all this long evening, you ask?

Well, you might not know this about me, but I have a bustling side business as a Conversationalist. I'm no good at a lot of things--in fact, I'm no good at most things. I'm slothful, self-centered, inconsistent, bossy, and not only am I disorganized, I'm messy like it's my special superpower. And on top of that, a Facebook quiz called "Which The Princess Bride Character Are You??" just told me I'm weak and ineffectual. However, I have an almost limitless capacity for conversation. I have some friends with whom I have to create itemized agendas before our conversations, because we could literally converse until one of us died.

You want to break up with your boyfriend? I want the long story. Considering going to law school? Let me tell you about every single person I've ever known who has gone through law school. You want to buy a car or take a sledge hammer to the dividing wall between your kitchen and living room? I'm with you; lay the details on me. I think my parents--both of whom can be somewhat taciturn in their own ways--are slightly mystified by my talkativeness. But I was born that way, so who am I to resist Nature's call?

Anyway, one of the benefits to being a talker is that people call me up to tell me their best stories because they know that talking is my business, and sometimes you've got to tell it to a professional. So, this evening a friend called me to tell me a story that puts the (silent) "OhmygodWHAT?!?" in the word Crazy. This story has been loosely transcribed with permission of the teller.

Imagine your brother. (If you don't have a brother, imagine you have a brother, and then imagine what he looks like and how stupid he is and all that.) Imagine that today you found out that your brother has been involved in a 3-way relationship with his wife and his son's 21-year-old babysitter for two years. Now, imagine your brother recently discovered some secret and unfathomable credit card debt perpetrated by his wife and then there's an argument, after which your brother storms off to stay at your mom's house and then has to go pick up his wife at a strip club, as the mutual girlfriend has called because she's upset that your brother's wife is making out with a guy named Steve. There are no words--and actually, there are no modifiers--to explain the situation and how complicated and weird it is to my friend, who heretofore believed her brother's family to be completely average and possibly even a bit dull. Can you imagine? I can't even imagine.

So, that, dear friends, is what I was doing instead of writing this blog post for so many hours. Well, that and going home from work early to take a THREE HOUR NAP! That's right, Cold That's Been Ruining My Family's Life Since Thursday! THREE! And now I might just go to bed! Sha-splam!