Thursday, October 25, 2012

desperate housewives

A few days ago, I was on my way into Starbucks. Despite the light rain, I was in a good mood, excited to satisfy my addiction-related craving for caffeine to be coursing through my veins.

I walked up the sidewalk making sure to, as always, look over my outfit and of course the size of my ass in the reflection in the passing store windows. Sometimes.. sometimes it stops me from getting a bagel. (Rarely.)

As I reached the front door to heaven Starbucks, I walked past a group of four women wearing exercise clothes, coffee in hands. They looked as though they had met up at the coffee joint and were getting ready to part ways.

But first, they apparently had to squeeze in a few last minutes of gossip.

Gossip is an interesting subject for me. My work is filled with it. So I can't say I am thrilled to hear it outside of my very own personal pit of hell that is my job.

Which would be why when I walked by to the tune of one of the women divulging how "she wasn't drunk, she just had a sip of..." I rolled my eyes and continued on with my day, assuming this hoard would be long gone, talking off the ears of their fellow chatty Cathy's elsewhere by the time I emerged with my cup of iced bliss.


In the time that it took me to order my coffee and post a quick tweet about the foursome, they apparently hadn't been able to wrap up their catty chatter.

I walk out to the sound of, "I know! Where is the duality of the friendship? Has she invited us over yet? No! And then she's on Facebook all..."

I was too far to catch the tail end of that one. Either that, or I was too busy in my head wondering why should the "she" in question invite these drama-mama's over, because I definitely heard the next bit about how one of them "got one e-mail a loooooong time ago.."

In fact, I'm pretty sure the whole plaza knew that said e-mail was received a loooooong time ago.

Any of my business? No, I guess not. But if you're seeking privacy, might I suggest looking a little bit further beyond the front door of Starbucks. Go home and do it? Oh wait, the woman you're bitching about is probably your pseudo-BFF in one of your mommy groups.

Drama is so gross. Honestly. I have a lot of respect for Stay at Home Moms. I believe it is a real job, and in fact, I want to be one myself one day. But the drama and the gossip? Give me a break. If I want the kind of drama that stems from having too much time on one's hands, I'll catch up on the latest episode of Beverly Hills Nannies.

Not to mention, you'd think someone who implements the word "duality" in everyday conversation would have something better to do with her time.

Just sayin'.