Sunday, January 29, 2012

TALKING TO MYSELF

About this time of year, cabin fever sets in and we exhibit the telltale signs of our growing mental illness, like talking to ourselves.  We're a year older and entering the arena of sanity annihilation known as senility.  Sooner or later we'll all be babbling our shameful secrets to total strangers at the "home."

Being caught in the act of lone conversation is mortifying, especially when the question comes, "Who are you talking to?" and the answer follows, "Myself."  Even worse, sadistic people remain silent and enjoy the expanded soliloquy, you turn and realize you've been providing great amusement with your one-man dementia show.


Me Thinking About What To Say To Myself

The most shameful episodes are the times when things go wrong and you give yourself a profanity-laced critique employing theatrics worthy of Shakespeare.  Example:  "Stupid f'*#ing (female dog), you can't hold onto a @*&+  thing!  (This usually said after dropping an egg at your feet and watching the slime head under the refrigerator at the speed of light, reaching hairball land just ahead of your paper towel.)  Hopefully no one hears.  I usually keep the TV on loud when I'm cooking.


Punishment For Cussing Is Time In The Bag 

I remember Mother being lost in a daze of problems, tuning me out, and discussing things with herself.  I always swore I would never do that, much in the same way I would never get wrinkles, a pot belly, blue veins, or wear anything larger than size 10.  Although I have broken these promises, I could work on improving.

The truth is sometimes you just need to talk when there is no one available.  Perhaps the next time I'm caught, I'll answer, "Would you mind not interrupting, I'm talking to God."  Of course that won't work when I'm "Cussing and Cooking," as I'm calling my new uncensored cookbook of white-trash cuisine, featuring Husband's favorite "Bacon-Double-Cheese Meatloaf Before You Die," which guarantees a coronary occlusion.   As he says, "You only go around once." 
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6 comments:

  1. Kay L. DaviesJanuary 29, 2012 at 1:25 PM

    Laughed and laughed with this one. I lived alone for most of my adult life, so it was best that I have a cat or dog, or both, to listen to my conversations.
    The cat would pretend I was talking to the dog, and vice versa, so neither of them felt the need to reply.
    K

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  2. fighting mermaidJanuary 29, 2012 at 1:57 PM

    Holy cow...I would be spending far too much time with my head in a bag! :o)

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  3. Chesapeake Bay WomanJanuary 29, 2012 at 4:40 PM

    To quote a line from one of my favorite movies, your mother, my favorite grandmother, "wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging over Lake Michigan." This tapestry was usually woven first thing in the morning as she was banging pots and pans trying to find whatever it was she was looking for. She, too, was good at talking to herself, and I found great amusement listening in. Except first thing in the morning when I was trying to sleep...

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  4. DarylJanuary 30, 2012 at 11:47 AM

    I talk to myself and/or the computer all the time .. I did not get the new iPhone 4S because I do not ever ever ever want my electronics to reply when spoken to ...

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  5. growing wild on waverly laneJanuary 31, 2012 at 5:38 AM

    K: Your comment was funnier than my whole blog!

    Mermaid: Oh no you di'ant.

    CBW: We are our mother's child...you lucky thing!

    D from NY: I call my computer = *&^ @#$ S+# of a B%@D!#. And then I ask the Lord's forgiveness.

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  6. growing wild on waverly laneJanuary 31, 2012 at 5:44 AM

    Oh and btw, my new car is a gas - in a couple of ways. It chats up a storm with Husband who's always on the "Bluetooth" (the handless telephone gadget).

    Sometimes he just presses buttons and talks to lovely young female voices at random. I'm glad I'm too old to care.

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