Greetings Hairballers,
Privacy is a thing of the past. Some live with the illusion, others don’t
care.
Those with children and pets know they haven't been to the
bathroom alone in years.
We have workstations that partition us off like cattle in pens,
yet allow every conversation to resonate around the room.
We talk on cell phones in public to make us seem important
or feel less lonely as we force our inane banter on those unlucky enough to
answer the ring, plus everyone within 50 yards. Who needs jackhammers, we are the noise
pollution.
Now, it seems, folks even try on clothes in packs.
The past couple of weeks, I’ve begun noticing what they're
saying so here we go.
Things Overheard©
FMHorner
in the dressing room
at Target,
yes, it’s come to
that,
trying on yoga pants
in sizes too big and
too small
in the booth to my
right
a young woman and her
boyfriend,
should I have invited
a friend?
brought a bottle of
wine and some cheese?
“pull it up a little
further,” he said,
“I want to get some
pictures,”
fool, I thought,
magazines pay
for that sort of
thing and you’re giving it away
I smile to myself and
try to turn a laugh
into a cough
while gathering up my
rejects,
it’s not my day to
shop
then from the other
side,
a woman shouts,
“it’s late, I have to
leave
and go the jail house,”
days later, in
another dressing room,
in a high tone kinda
place
like where Sara Palin
shopped
on the Republican
National Committee’s dime,
I over heard, a woman
exclaim,
“that jerk hasn’t
sent my alimony check and
I charged a week at
the spa
plus cellulite cream
and make up
how does he expect me
to live?
and, you should see
that bimbo
he’s dating—young
enough to be his daughter
with bazooms out to
here,”
off to Barnes &
Noble
where a man in the
science fiction aisle
was selling vitamin
supplements
on his cell phone, (makes
you wonder about vitamins)
while over in the new
age section,
a real estate agent
was loudly closing a
deal
while checking her
horoscope (same goes for real estate)
I’m happily out of
the main stream
yet my cell phone’s tucked
in my purse
in case I get the
call
telling me I’ve won a
Nobel Prize
then, you’re gonna
hear noise!
Hairballs,
f
