You don't know horror until you've served on the front lines of a pub trivia team...

From the beer garden of the local pub.

Bob:  Alright guys, the next question is "Who were the two leads in the film About Last Night?".  Focus!  We need this one to win!  We're THIS close to the fifty dollar bar tab!

Sue:  Don't worry, we're totally going to get it. I can feel it in my waters. 

Joe:  Sue, that's disgusting! And not at all logical. 

Sue:  Dude, my waters know what they're doing. Here, I'll show you. 

*Wrestles the answer sheet out of Bob's unwilling hands* 

Sue:  Okay, start naming some leading actors from the eighties? 

Bob:  Molly Ringwald? 

Sue:  No, there was a naked sex scene in that film. Molly Ringwald would never do a naked sex scene. 

Me:  Andrew McCartney? 

Sue:  Same thing. He's too clean cut. 

Joe:  How about Rob Lowe? He's as filthy as they come. 

Sue:  Good! My waters like him. 

Group:  EW!!!!! 

Sue:  Anyway, moving right along, we still need a female lead. 

Me:  Holly Hunter? 

Sue:  Too classy to do something like that. 

Bob:  I'm assuming Meg Ryan is off the table. 

Sue:  (stares disbelievingly) ...

Bob:  Yeah, that's what I thought. 

Me:  Oh! I've got it! Demi Moore! She'd totally do a naked sex scene! 

Sue:  Yes, my waters approve. I think we've got our answer, ladies and gentlemen.  

*One scoring round, several beers, and a great deal of celebrating later* 

Bob:  I can't believe we got that right just by rationalising and outright guessing! 

Me:  I'm just amazed that we're all taking Sue's renal functions a prophetic.

Sue:  See!!! Don't scoff at the waters, they know everything!

And that, boys and girls, is the tale of how my pub trivia team bullshitted our way to a glorious victory over our arch nemesises, The Quizzley Bears.

We'd like to thank our families, our friends, and of course Sue's bladder, without which we would never have been awarded this honour.

Sometimes I'm not sure if I really trust my moral compass...

So ... this is a conversation I had over brunch the other day.  There are times when I probably shouldn't let people know exactly what I'm thinking.

Me:  Are you all ready to go to Mexico?  You're going to have a great time!

Her:  Yeah ... if I can just survive long enough to actually go.  I've got so much to do before then.  Seriously, I need an assistant, someone who's willing to work for about fifty cents an hour. 

Him:  Well you do work with refugees and immigrants, if anyone has access to cheap labor, it's you. 

Her:  That's an awful thing to say!

Him:  Come on, are you saying you've never even considered it? 

Her:  Of course not!  What do you think I am? 

Me:  (mutters) Obviously not one to take advantage of the opportunities offered. 

Her:  I'm supposed to be HELPING them, not turning them into what pretty much equates to slave labor! 

Him:  But if you could, would you? 

Her:  ... 

Me:  I hate to admit it, but I might.  

Her:  ... 

Me:  I'm not saying that I'd do it, just that if things were different, if we lived in a world where slavery was considered "acceptable" ... I can't be sure exactly where my morals would fall. 

Her: ... 

Me:  I'd like to think I'd be all "Slavery is bad, m'kay?" but I know myself well enough to admit that, if the option was on the table and no one was going to judge me for it, I might. 

Her:  ... seriously!!! 

Me:  I said might. 

Him:  (shakes head sadly) Kellie, I'm very disappointed in you.

Me:  Oh, don't come across all holier than though.  I know for a fact that the only thing keeling you from committing cold blooded murder is that you wouldn't survive in jail. 

Him:  Touche. 

Her:  ... how are we even friends? 

I suppose it's lucky I don't live in a world where slavery is considered okay, I'm not sure if I really trust my moral compass.

Do I look like the sort of person who'd kidnap a cat? No, don't answer that...

So ... the other day I became a cat-napping suspect.

*Answers a knock at the door, holding Gypsy the Feline Dictator* 

Me:  Hi, can I help you? 

Her:  Hey, I'm your neighbour from number thirteen.  I'm just checking with everyone in the street to see if anyone's seen our cat.  She went missing a few days ago. 

Me:  Oh, I'm sorry, what did she look like? 

Her:  She's a tabby, like your cat.  And she's about the same size as yours.  And her fur is fluffy like yours... 

Me:  ... 

Her:  In fact, Ella looks exactly like your cat... 

Me:  ... 

Her:  *suspiciously*  How long have you had your cat, exactly? 

Me:  *turning Gypsy away from the door protectively*  I got her from the RSPCA eight years ago. 

Her:  *looking doubtful*  Hmm ... 

Me:  ... 

Her:  ... 

Me:  *yelling* You can't have my cat! 

*slams door*

Okay, so it probably wasn't the most graceful way to deal with the situation, but in my defense I've never been accused of feline abduction before!  In my own home, no less!

But going to someone's door and accusing them of stealing your cat?  Who even does that!

Get drunk before letting someone else read your unfinished manuscript, it makes it SO much easier...

Source

I'm currently at that point in a writing project where what I really need is an outside perspective.  So, because I'm a grown up who isn't scared of letting people read her stuff (except for the fact that I'm TOTALLY scared of letting people read my stuff), I decided to ask a friend.  And yes, I may have had a glass of wine or three before I worked up the nerve to ask.

But whatever gets you through, hey?

The following conversation was the result.

Her:  So, what sort of book is it? 

Me:  It's an erotic novel, kind of in the 50 Shades genre, but hopefully better written and without all the borderline abus... 

Her:  (interrupting)  You had me at erotic novel!  Gimme! 

*hands iPad over* 

Her:  So these are the main characters? 

Me:  Yep. 

Her:  And who's this one? 

Me:  That's the best friend.  Every novel has a best friend. 

Her:  She seems very familiar. 

Me:  (looks sheepish) Well, she might possibly sort of kind of be based a teeny little bit on you... 

Her:  .... 

Me:  I mean, I can always change it if you don't like it.  I didn't mean to offend you... 

Her:  .... 

Me:  I know she' seems a bit flighty, and really she's only very loosely based on you... 

Her:  Kellie, stop!  This is... 

Me:  Awful?  Offensive?  You hate it, don't you.  You want me to change it... 

Her:  ... IT'S AWESOME!!!!  I'm a character in an erotic novel!  How cool is that! 

Me:  So you really don't mind? 

Her:  Of course not!  Why would I mind that?  But I do have one request. 

Me:  (suspiciously)  Okay. 

Her:  She needs to get laid.

Sue:  Lots. 

Her:  Like, at least once a chapter. 

Me:  .... 

Her:  ... every other chapter?

I actually did get a few good tips out of her, once she's stopped giggling like a Catholic schoolgirl over it.  There's just no substitute for a fresh set of eyes.

But no matter how grateful I am, the best friend is NOT getting laid every other chapter!

Because you can never pull too many practical jokes around people wielding pointy scissors...

As most of you know by now, I'm an enormous phantasmaphile.

I love all things spooky and ghostly.  I've been on a fair few ghost hunts in my time, my collection of vintage true life haunting books is nothing to be sneezed at, and you've already heard about my Paranormal State and Ghost Hunters marathons.

So when I saw this practical joke that someone played in a beauty salon, I just had to share.

Why is it nothing this cool ever happens when I'm getting my hair done?  The scariest thing that's happened to me recently at the hairdressers is this conversation I heard going on behind me while I was getting a trim.

Woman:  Oh, don't cry sweethearts!  Mummy's just getting her hair cut!  Yes she is!  She'll be finished real soon and then you'll get to have dinner with Daddy.  Won't that be fun!

Children:  *shrill screaming*  I WANT TO GO HOME!!!

Woman:  Yes you will!  Dinner with Daddy!  

Children:  *wailing and punching*  HOME HOME HOME!!!

Woman:  Yum yum yum!  So much fun!

Children:  *yelling and making a break for the door*

Terrifying, no?

Luckily I was facing away from her so I could indulge myself in a fit of the giggles, much to my hairdresser's consternation.  At one point she even ducked down under the bench with the pretence of plugging in a hair dryer, just so she could slap me on the leg and mutter at me to stop laughing or she was going to lose it.

I thought I'd been pretty subtle about about it, but the filthy look I got from that woman as I walked out of the salon made me realize that perhaps not.  That's when I remembered that even though I'd been facing away from her, I HAD been sitting in front of a mirror.  A mirror which would have quite clearly showed my face to the rest of the room.

Oops?

Damned hair salon mirrors, always causing trouble.

And the winner of the public embarrassment award is...

From the back row of the University Playhouse...

Bob:  Well, this is the first time I've ever seen THAT happen at a play. 

Me:  Uh ... is that guy... 

Bob:  Yeah, I think so. 

Me:  And he's got a ... 

Bob:  It certainly looks like it. 

*actor turns to the side, presenting a spectacular 'profile'* 

Me:  (turning head sideways)  It's pretty impressive really.  You'd think he'd be able to hide it in that paint overall he's wearing, but it just seems to make it bigger.  

Bob:  But hey, bright side!  At least he's not wearing a tights like the rest of them. 

*both wince as the actor leaps across the stage* 

Me:  That can't be comfortable. 

Bob:  Why is there so much bouncing?  Does he really need to be bouncing right now? 

*actor sits down in an attempt to hide his dilemma, but just makes it more noticeable* 

Me:  If I was him I'd probably have run of stage by now. 

Bob:  (waggles eyebrows) The show must go on, I suppose, no matter how hard things get. 

Me:  Oh, that's terrible!  You're not allowed to make any more puns.  Your punning license has been revoked. 

*actor finishes his scene and rushes off stage* 

Me:  Oh, he's gone.   

Bob:  (mutters) Hopefully to find a cold shower or something.   

Me:  Either that or a box of tissues. 

Bob:  Okay, I probably could have done without that visual.   

Me:  What!  He just did a whole Shakespearian scene with the largest boner I've ever seen.  If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's that bloke.

And this, my friends, is why I'm glad I'm not a guy.

Poor thing, how unlucky can you get!  It's bad enough when something like that happens in public, but to happen on a stage in front of an audience of hundreds of people?  Knowing full well that this is an assessment piece for your University acting degree?  That's got to suck.

Still, kudos to you Mr Actor for being the consummate professional and ignoring the enormous erection you were sporting for a good five minutes there on the stage.  You really rose to the occasion!  I know it was hard, but you hung in there.

Sorry, couldn't resist.  I'll be good now.

Conversations with St Clare...

"Oh St Clare, patron saint of boob tube watchers! Why hast thou forsaken me?"

But I suppose it's not really fair to blame her.  No one made me watch Toddlers & Tiaras.  Nup, I got myself into that fix all on my own.

I've always had a love/hate relationship with reality television. Some of the shows, like the 1900 House series or Hoarders, I love.  But unfortunately these gems are few and far between.  If I sit down to watch a favourite sitcom, you can bet it's bracketed by a couple of inane reality shows, if it hasn't been replaced by them altogether.

It's not uncommon to find me sitting in my lounge room of an evening, watching my reality saturated television, and whining to St Clare.

But she's surprisingly unsympathetic.

St Clare: Would you please stop your belly aching! Didn't I give you Glee? Didn't I give you Criminal Minds? I worked my arse off so you could drool over Shemar Moore, but do you appreciate it? 

Kellie: Of course I do, St Clare, but you've got to admit this really isn't one of your better works. 

St Clare: Look, I can't patrol the channels 24/7. Every now and then a Toddlers & Tiaras is going to slip through. I'm only human you know! 

Kellie: I'm not criticising your work. You did a great job on Merlin, and you know you'll always have my eternal gratitude for Star Trek. All I'm saying is if I have to watch another middle aged, over bleached woman shove her four year old into a pair of Spanx and a ball gown, I'm going to scream. 

St Clare: Give me a few days, okay?  I'll slip something really choice into Supernatural for you, maybe something with Dean and Castiel. Will that shut you up? 

Kellie: Thanks, St Clare. That's all I ask.

I'm going to reserve my judgement though.  Lets see if she delivers.

From Control Headquarters...

From my friend's kitchen...

Sue: Kel, could you do me a favour? 

Kellie: Sure, what? 

Sue: (handing over a leaflet) This is one of the houses in the street that's up for sale. Can you call up the real-estate and find out how much it's going for? They didn't put a price on the sheet. 

Kellie: Um ... okay. But why not do it yourself? 

Sue: They might recognise me! 

Kellie: The real-estate people? But why would... Okay, whatever. So, what's the number? 

Sue: Here you go, and don't forget to block the number so they can't see who's calling. 

Kellie: No problem. 

Sue: And don't use your real name. 

Kellie: Okay. 

Sue: And don't give them my number! Or yours! 

Kellie: Alright, calm down! It's not like I haven't done this before! 

Sue: (raises eyebrows) 

Kellie: ... but this isn't about me, it's about you. Okay, it's ringing. 

*Real-estate agent answers* 

Kellie: Oh, hi, my name is Kellie ... uh ... Smith, and I was wondering about the price of the house you've got up for sale on Roberts St ... yep, that's the one ... uh huh ... three fifty five ... okay then, that's great ... my number? 

Sue: (gestures wildly not to give it) 

Kellie: ... Ah, well I'm afraid I can't give you this number ... no, I don't have a work number to give you either ... or a home number ... oh, alright then ... 0414 729 337 ... yep, great ... okay then, thanks a lot. 

*hangs up* 

Sue: You gave them a number! I told you not to give them a number! And what number was that anyway? I don't recognise it! 

Kellie: Calm down, crazy woman! That was the real-estate agents number. She was giving it to me and I was repeating it.  

Sue: (relaxing) Oh, thank god! When you started to reel off those numbers I wasn't sure WHAT you were doing.  You really should have made it clearer.

Kellie: You know ... maybe next time you should do your own recon work.

Sometimes it's just easier to go along with a friend's insanity than to argue ... I'm just not sure whether this was one of those times.

Conversations with a feline dictator...

Kellie:  *getting up from the couch*  I think I'll just grab something to drink, Gypsy.

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  *jumping onto the couch and stretching out the length of it*  At last!  I've waited an eternity for my chance, and finally it has come!  

Kellie:  *returns from the kitchen*  Hey, that's my seat!  Up you get, cat.

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  *mewling warningly*  I don't think so, pitiful human!  I've claimed this couch as my own.  

Kellie:  I'm not kidding here, Gypsy.  Move!  

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  If I don't move for the great roaring beast you called "Vacuum", then I'm certainly not giving up my rightful place for you, worthless mortal!

Kellie:  *attempts to lift  her off the couch*  There's a cat bed right over there!  Go sit on that!

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  *digs claws into the throw rug and refuses to be moved*  I will not stoop to sit on that ... thing!  It's bulky, uncomfortable, and it clashes with my fur!

Kellie:  Oh ... forget it.  I'll go watch TV in the bedroom instead.  *muttering to self*  I swear, it's like she thinks it her apartment or something...

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  You're right, puny creature.  Perhaps you should consider renting a second dwelling.  You've abused my hospitality for far too long.


I'm pretty sure my cat thinks that this is her place and she's just very nicely letting me stay here.  She's certainly become very territorial about the couch.  I knew she'd be upset when I got rid of her couch (I had two, one for me and one for her) back when I redecorated, but I didn't realise it was going to start a battle of wills over who got to sit on the new one!

Luckily there's no jurisdiction disputes over the bedroom, it's all mine ... at least not yet...

Put the butter knife down and step away from the sandwich...

So apparently there's a town in the US called Sandwich, and their police cars look like this.

Am I the only one whose first thought was "Damn, those people are really serious about their lunches!"

Sandwich Police Officer:  Ma'am I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the table. 

Woman:  What seems to be the problem officer? 

Sandwich Police Officer:  I see you have a roast beef sub there.  Can I ask what condiments are present? 

Woman:  ... uh ... dijonnaise? 

Sandwich Police Officer:  Ma'am, are you aware that it's a felony to use mustard related condiments on a sour dough base? 

Woman:  It's not sour dough, I swear!  It's ciabatta!  They told me it was ciabatta! 

Sandwich Police Officer:  I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I'm afraid you're going to have to come down to the station. 

Woman's friend:  I told her she should have got the chicken wrap instead.

Conversations with a feline dictator...

*Walks into the living room*

Me:  Gypsy, where are you?

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  Behold, puny human!  I am the mistress of all I purvey!

Me:  What the ... how the hell did you get up there?

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  It is a thrilling tale, not for the faint of heart.

Me:  No seriously, how the hell?  You fall when you're trying to jump on the couch!

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  When I spotted the great Mount Roomdivider during my bi-hourly patrol through the living room, I knew that it was something I had to conquer.

Me:  ... it's not even near the bench...

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  So I prayed to the Cat God, His Holiness Tiddles, and asked him to give me the strength to reach the summit.

Me:  ... didn't even break the lamp...

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  I felt myself become imbued with the power of the Cat God.  Energised with his holy light, I leapt at Mount Roomdivider, clawing my way up inch by torturous inch.

Me:  ... bloody six feet tall ...

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  Finally, after much struggling, and several perilous near misses, I finally reached the summit.  It was a great day for felinekind!  Now, assist me back to terra firma, peon!

Me:  ... you know what?  I don't want to know. You want to be on top of the room divider, you knock yourself out.  I'm sure you'll come down when you're ready.

Gypsy the Feline Dictator:  No, wait ... where are you going ... come back here, human!  GET ME DOWN AND GIVE ME CHICKEN!!!


I'm still not sure how she got up there.  Seriously, she can't even jump onto the kitchen bench without assistance, and she falls off the couch about fifty percent of the time.  I'm just going to go with the assumption that I now have a poltergeist that likes to place my cat in random unusual locations.

It's not for the novice, that's for damned sure...

So on the weekend I decided to introduce a friend of mine, let's call him Bob for privacy sake, to the delight that is Star Trek Voyager by having a bit of a marathon.

Yeah, that probably wasn't the best idea.

Bob:  So that chick with the really red hair... 

Me:  Captain Janeway. 

Bob:  Yeah, her.  She's the captain of The Voyager? 

Me:  Not The Voyager, it's just Voyager.   

Bob:  Huh ... but they say The Enterprise... 

Me:  True, but it's just Voyager.  No "the". 

Bob:  Okay ... and the guy with the pointy ears? 

Me:  That's Tuvok.  He's a Vulcan. 

Bob:  I see ... and who's the guy standing next to him?

Me:  That's Neelix.  He's the ship's Morale Officer and the cook. 

Bob:  Oh ... that explains the chef hat.  Is he a Vulcan too? 

Me:  No, he's a Talaxian!  Dude ... he's furry, with spots, and about four feet tall!  What about that made you think he's a Vulcan? 

Bob:  Well their names sound kind of similar. 

Me:  So because they have similar sounding names they have to be from the same planet?  That's speciesist! 

Bob:  Okay, calm down crazy lady!  Jeez, you take this stuff pretty seriously, don't you! 

Me:  Damn right I do! 

Bob:  Okaaaaay  ... what about that dark haired guy with the tattoo on his face?  What species is he? 

Me:  Human. 

Bob:  But ... what's the pattern on his face then? 

Me:  A tattoo. 

Bob:  *muttering* of course it it. 

Me:  This isn't working is it.  I'm not going to be able to convert you am I. 

Bob:  No, I don't think so ... 

Me:  ... 

Bob: ... 

Me:  So, Doctor Who then? 

Bob:  Bring on the Weeping Angels!

So it turns out that Star Trek Voyager is not for the amateurs, alas.  I guess some people just aren't up to handling its awesomeness.

Don't worry though, Bob, we'll always have the Weeping Angels.  

Conversations with a feline dictator...

Kellie:  *coming into the house*  Gypsy, I'm home!

Gypsy the feline dictator:  It's about time, you worthless human!  Now, bring me chicken immediately!

Kellie:  *looking around*  ... oh my god!  What happened in here!

Gypsy the feline dictator:  Ah, I see you're admiring the proof of my savagery and cunning.  It was a worthy foe and it fought valiantly, but it was no match for my obviously superior tactical knowledge.

Kellie:  But ... I was gone for an hour ... how did you ...

Gypsy the feline dictator:  I see you're speechless from fear of my retribution, but you are safe from my wrath provided you bring me chicken.  Now!

Kellie:  It's EVERYWHERE!  How did you even get in the cupboard to get it out?  And how did you get it open?

Gypsy the feline dictator:  Best not to ask such questions, puny mortal!  The answers are far beyond your understanding.

Kellie:  *grabbing a broom*  This is going to take forever to clean up...


... and this, my friends, is how I ended up spending half an hour vacuuming up rice that had been spread through my entire house!  I'm still not sure how she managed to get the bag open, or why she thought it was necessary to drag it all around the house, leaving a trail of grains in her wake, but I've learned my lesson.  Make sure the pantry cupboard is shut properly before you leave the house.

Office shenanigans...

From the depths of Officelandia.

Me:  Achoo!! 

Cubiclemate 1:  Bless you. 

Me:  Thanks. 

*Cubiclemate 2 begins laughing into his hand* 

Me:  Really? 

*Cubiclemate 2 continues to laugh, stuffing his fist in his mouth* 

Me:  Seriously!  We're going to do this! 

Cubiclemate 1:  What's with him? 

Me:  Ignore him he's just being juvenile. 

Cubicle Farmer 2:  She sneezed!  *giggles* 

Cubiclemate 1:  Uhhh ... yeah.  And? 

Me:  You really don't want to know. 

*Cubiclemate 2 almost falls off his chair from laughing so hard* 

Cubiclemate 1:  What on earth is wrong with him?  Is he going into hysterics or something? 

Me:  No, he's just remembering something I told him once.  Something I'm seriously regretting having ever brought up. 

*Cubiclemate 2 bangs fist on his desk, gasping for air* 

Me:  Would you cut it out!  It' an urban legend!  A sneeze is NOT one seventh of an orgasm! 

*An awkward silence spreads around the office* 

Me:  *shrinking down into my chair, glaring at Cubiclemate 2*  I hate you! 

Cubiclemate 1:  Jeez, what's he going to be like the day you sneeze seven times in a row! 

*Cubiclemate 2 bursts into laughter again* 

Me:  Would you please stop encouraging him!

Conversations with a feline dictator...

Kellie:  So, Gypsy, what shall we do tonight, hmm?

Gypsy the feline dictator:  Foolish human!  Why do you ask such questions!  Bring me chicken, immediately!

Kellie:  Aww, are you hungry, sweetie?  Okay, let’s get you some dinner.

*Grabs the dry food and fills the bowl*

Gypsy the feline dictator:  What is this!  I demand raw meat, not this foul concoction!  Do not make me angry, puny mortal!

Kellie:  Not hungry after all?  Never mind, I’m sure you’ll eat when you’re ready.

Gypsy the feline dictator:  How dare you, you insignificant creature!  One night you’ll forget to shut your bedroom door and I’ll eviscerate you in your sleep!

Kellie:  Come on, let’s watch some TV.  How about Star Trek?

*Turns on TV and starts show*

Gypsy the feline dictator:  I swear to all that is unholy, as soon as I grow opposable thumbs, I’ll wreak my vengeance!

Kellie:  Hmm, maybe not, let’s try some Doctor Who instead.

Gypsy the feline dictator:  You worthless minion!  I will express my displeasure with a warning!  Feel the wrath of my mighty claws!

*Begins kneading the couch throw*

Kellie:  Who’s a cute little kitty!  You is … you is…

*Scritches Gypsy behind the ear*

Gypsy the feline dictator:  I will not stand for these indignities!  I demand respect, you imbecile … oh, that’s nice … yeah, just there … a bit lower … that’s right …

And this, my friends is what I’m convinced goes on inside my cat’s head pretty much 24/7.  Honestly, I’ve never known a human who could beat her for contemptible looks!  Seriously, if she could just work out how to use machinery, I’m relatively sure we’d be looking at a feline coup inside a week, max.

Overheard in the supermarket...

Here's a conversation I overheard in the supermarket in the magazine aisle between two women in their sixties.  Part of me thought "Yep, that's what me and my friends are going to sound like in about thirty years".

Names have been changed to protect the crotchety.

Woman 1:  Can you believe these girls today, Margaret! 

Woman 2:  Hmm?  What do you mean? 

Woman 1:  These girls!  *gestures to magazine* Can you believe what they're allowed to get up to these days!  Back when we were young we wouldn't have dreamed of acting like that! 

Woman 2:  What are you going on about.  *looks over other woman's shoulder at the magazine*  Oh, so she left her husband and is dating all these guys now? 

Woman 1:  Yes, that's what I was saying! It's unbelievable what girls get away with these days! 

Woman 2:  Seriously, Joan?  You're seriously going to say that? 

Woman 1:  Yes!  They have no sense of decency anymore, and you know who I blame?  The parents!  I wouldn't have raised my girls to act like this! 

Woman 2:    Well I hardly think ... 

Woman 1:  And the media!  Is it any wonder that they think it's okay to sleep around like that when that's all they see on TV? 

Woman 2:  Now that's pretty rich, coming from you Joan. 

Woman 1:  What do you mean? 

Woman 2:  Who was it exactly who was going out with four different guys when we were in high school? 

Woman 1:  That's not really the point... 

Woman 2:  And who spent three weeks back in '72 living in that artist's commune up the coast? 

Woman 1:  That was a legitimate artistic retreat! 

Woman 2:  You don't paint. 

Woman 1:  Well ... I was ... 

Woman 2:  Oh, we all knew what you were there for. 

Woman 1:  *Refolding magazine and shoving it back on the rack*  Oh, just shut up.  I don't know why I'm still friends with you. 

Woman 2:  Just calling them like I see them!

*The two women wander off towards the frozen pastry section*

And this, my friends, is why you should change your friends like you change your underwear.  Old friends just know too much about you.

Actually, I lie.  Keep the old friends.  They may know where all the bodies are hidden, but they also know you'll take them down with you if you're caught, so generally they'll have your back.

Behind the scenes at the library...

A transcript of a genuine conversation between myself and another library employee.  Yep, this is the sort of things we’re talking about when we say we’re going out back to see if we can find your book.  Who says literature can’t be fun!

Me:  Good morrow!  How art thou!

Her:  Really?  Shakespeare?  You’re really going to do this?

Me:  Verily!

Her:  So you’re committed to this?

Me:  Verily much!

Her:  Heh … is it just me, or does that sound like a girl in a boarding school story?  Verily Much and the Fifth Years!

Me:  Verily Much Wins The Trick!

Her:  Verily Much Has a Jolly Gay Time

Me:  Verily Much and the Naught Prefect

Her:  … you know, those sound kind of suggestive.

Me:  Of course they’re suggestive!  Didn’t you ever read those stories when you were a kid?  They’re full of innuendo and substituting food for sex.  Those boarding school story writers were incredibly repressed.

Her:  That explains so much!  Like why they always seemed to have a verbal orgasm over whatever was being served for lunch!

Me:  If you think that’s kinky, just think about how many of the stories had two teachers that were “Close, intimate friends”. 

Her:  … oh wow, I never even noticed, but you’re totally right!

Me:  Like I said, repressed!  Think about it, most of the women who wrote those stories were spinsters.  I’d imagine they knew very little about naughty stuff and rumpty pumpty, so they substituted lashing of tuck and midnight feasts and a seriously disturbing obsesson with hockey and cricket for sex in their stories.

Her:  You seem to know an awful lot about this.

Me:  Are you kidding?  I could write a thesis on it!

Her:  Is it wrong that this has made me want to pull out my old boarding school stories and reread them looking for the naughty bits in disguise?

Me:  I’d be disappointed if you didn’t!

And the moral of this story, children?  Those of us who work in libraries can spin almost anything to make it a bit rude … even classic children’s books.