I know the haters out there will call bullshit on that claim, so I've put together a collage of evidence of George Clooney stalking my blog via mobile reader:
"oh hell no! Those kids did what?!"
"Hmm...what wine says 'casual date?' I know, I'll ask Parental Parody, she knows all about cheap wine"
"OMG OMG OMG what new blog post did I miss while in the air? Has she mentioned me today?"
"PP...hey, it's George. 'Sup. Listen, I just wanted to apologize for not bringing the Nespresso over yet...[pause]...yes, that's right....shirtless. Anyway, I'm on vacation, but I'm going to bring it over - shirtless - as soon as my package tour is finished. You'll be happy to know I've been working on my abs and my tan simultaneously, so when I do show up shirtless, it'll be worth the wait. Okay, love to #1Hubby and the kids, laters!"
So you see, me and George, we are tight, yo.
While waiting for my Nespresso via buffed-tanned-shirtless George, I have to resort to Cafe's to get my caffeine fix *sigh*. The only single factor that irritates me about Cafe's is the close proximity of tables. They pack those suckers in. Heaven help you if you order food, because it always comes on an excessively large wanky plate...and that bad boy takes up the entire table surface, so you end up excusing yourself to the table next door whenever you attempt to eat and elbow your neighbouring patron in a manner that would make Chuck Norris proud.
Note to Cafe's : We are not Sim's. We do not magically morph from entrance to table to bathroom to exit. Our food doesn't morph from plate to mouth. We need room to move damnit! And also, room for out handbags thankyouverymuch.
As a result of this sardine-tin set up, I'm privy to the conversations of everyone within a 3 table radius. Since I'm usually there on my own or with the kids (who are sooo not up with the latest gossip, and just don't respond supportively if I whine about my domestic duties), I'm often silent. True story. Probably the only single time I'm silent except for when I'm sleeping. Unless you count the odd snore fetching purr.
I've heard a few crackers, conversations that would make your eyebrows curly, and many that I really wish I hadn't.
Last Friday, I heard a cracker of a conversation from the table next to me.
Note : there will be no funny images in the middle of the following story, because I don't want to distract you from the awesomeness.
It involved one woman bemoaning menopause (since I'm perpetually 25yrs of age, I have no clue what that's all about), and one of her companions advising her on where to put the damp wash cloth to obtain maximum cool during the hot flushes. Also, which pharmaceuticals best dulled the urge to stab your nearest and dearest. Seriously. Her words. That last one included how to justify said medication to her Doctor, since it was actually an anti-depressant / anti-psychotic, and therefore not commonly prescribed for combating the symptoms of menopause. No, really? Maybe it should be on the PMT/PMS list?
Then the menopausal one started going on about an unwanted house guest. A 30yr old "girl" who was refusing to leave. Instead, she followed the woman's husband around everywhere.
This is the point where I actively started listening in with abandon, not even attempting to disguise my lean towards their table - all of 5 inches from my own.
The husband is playing dumb, quite enamoured with the young 30yr old following him around like a puppy. I bet he is....wanker.
Miss2 was with me and chose now to start singing Happy Birthday to Poo. Not a mispronunciation. She was genuinely singing happy birthday to faeces.
I hastily shoved some toast at her. Sorted. Back to the conversation at hand...or rather, to my left hand side.
So the menopausal shunned one was explaining how she stormed out of the house. Big mistake...only leaves the nubile 30yr old to comfort the dumbass husband.
Mrs Menopausal went to her mother's to complain. Love that, even at her middle-aged state of life, she still runs home to her Mum for support. As I totally would myself.
Moron rat husband came after her (but not before allowing enough time for some one-on-one attention from the nasty ass 30yr old), so she got in the car and went home and packed her things. While she was doing this, her mother was telling the rat husband off. Seriously, if my Mother was to back me up like that, I would definitely promise her a room with a window in the nursing home. Shunned menopausal wife drove around the corner and sat in her car for an hour, just to make idiot husband sweat it out. Insert support from her 2 girlfriends, and the one who had been silent until this point confessing that she regularly did that to her husband and kids, just to make them think she was so fed up she was leaving. I don't think it's working...not when you do it weekly. At this point I knocked over the sugar on my table, and their necks all snapped in my direction. I could've felt the breath of the woman beside me, such was my lean towards their table. But don't worry, I totally covered it up by making like I was stretching my sore neck, complete with hand rub and frowny face, then side-to-side neck movements. I'm totally stealth like that. And then I had to leave in case I wasn't actually as stealth as I was giving myself credit for. It took every ounce of my willpower to get up from that table. I was dying to know what happened next. I am dead serious when I say I'm going back, same time next week, just in case this is a regular thing for them.
I wonder if I can put Reserved signs on our tables? Too obvious?
This would be funny, except #1Hubby and I would be the eavesdroppee's, not the eavesdropper's. It's just what happens when he tries to deny sharing his meal with me, because I can't decide between steak and chicken, and he refuses to order one so I can try both. Selfish, selfish man....
