Some people love the drama.
They claim not to, but they do.
We all know them, these “Drama Peeps”.
There’s not an incident too small or insignificant that
can’t be turned into some sort of personal trial.
“My
shoe lace came untied just as I was on the corner, crossing the street, and
that horrible countdown clock began clicking off the seconds, so I had to run
across with only one tied shoelace, all the while worrying over the untied one,
flapping all around as a tripping hazard. I could very easily have gotten run
over by a bus. It was awful!”
To which you might reply...
“Maybe
you should look into Velcro.”
To which they’d reply, because Drama Peeps, never listen to
what you have to say....
“Then...on
top of all that what do I find on the bottom of my shoe....some sort of
disgusting green gum, which I’m sure was packed full of horrible diseases!”
To which you might again reply...
“Did
you say green gum...and what corner was this exactly?”
“Now
I’m going to have to throw these perfectly good shoes away, and they’re only 6
years old...possibly 7...maybe eight.”
“Was
it spearmint or something fruity?”
And on and on it goes.
It’s as if the “Drama Peeps” need the drama in order to
justify their being; adding some measure of import to their day to day
activities.
While the rest of us merely take our own little adventures
in stride.
Like that incident when I went to make a tuna sandwich only
to discover I had opened a can of crabmeat by mistake.
By the time I noticed, the error, I’d already consumed three
quarters of the errant sandwich, thinking all the while there was something
terribly wrong with my taste buds...or worse my taste bud brain
receptors...which may or may not be an actual thing.
Sure, I was shaken up a bit, afterwards, but did I go around
telling every friend I know about how horrible it was?
No...uh uh...no way.
I only told 5...and I
must have at least 6 or 7 other acquaintances...8 if you count the mail lady,
who always says good morning.
So you won’t find me making mountains out of mole hills,
especially since I find moles kind of creepy.
What the “Drama Peep” wants is to dazzle us with the
overwhelming odds they face each and every day, just to get to the next one.
And if things should settle down for a while and they find they
don’t have quite enough tragedy in their own life, they borrow someone else’s as
their own....and make sure you know about it.
“You
won’t believe what happened to my Uncle Bud’s friends, daughter’s cousin’s
sister-in-law’s neighbor’s dentist’s friend’s, aunt’s husband. They found out he has a terrible case of
planter fasciitis and now he has to wear orthotics in his shoe for the next 6
weeks. Can you believe it?”
“Who’s
this again?”
“My
Uncle Bud’s friends, daughter’s cousin’s sister-in-law’s neighbor’s dentist’s
friend’s, aunt’s husband. And they’re
not even sure if the orthotics will work...not to mention his insurance doesn’t
cover the expense!”
“I
see...Uncle Bud must be pretty shaken up.”
“He
is...especially since he’s just getting over that unpleasantness with Aunt
Mary’s hammer toe.”
And since you’ve come to learn that— “Drama Peep” or not—their concern is genuine, you need to show some measure of sympathy.
“I’m
sure it’s hard on you too...”
To which they reply....
“Like
I need anything else to go wrong in my life....”
“Well...actually....”
I don’t know....maybe you think I’m being a “Drama Peep” myself,
right now.
And, moles and crabmeat be damned...maybe you’re right.
I mean, isn’t that what I do here all the time: bitch and
moan over all the things that annoy me?
And do you know how overwhelming that is...considering just
how many people and things annoy me, on a daily basis...if not hourly?
And the pressure that puts on me to retort all those things
to the half dozen or so wayward souls that actually read these ramblings?
And how all that cuts into my morning nap time, and
threatens to alter my afternoon siesta time, as well?
It’s a wonder I even get out of bed in the morning...at
least by 11:30.
That’s just how hard it is...I can’t begin to tell you...but
I will...over and over again....
Over and over again....
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So that's a mystery solved "planter fasciitis" what a great name for what we over here call "Marcher's Foot" suffered by forthright, strident walkers. Drama Peeps who complain with profanity about their heel pain. Shoes over 7-years old may well contribute. There's always a story...what?
ReplyDeleteHappy to provide an international service. Just another one of my endless responsibilities...
DeleteAnd thanks for your tireless PR on behalf of TFLR...!
DeleteTireless! Every time I do that drama stuff I need a nap.
ReplyDeleteI am deep into your story -- they could call me for lunch, and I wouldn't hear them. Just like when I would be reading all about the Hardy Boys. But then, halfway down your saga (WHAT?!) I come to: "to read the rest, click here..." Look, this adds to so much stress, as if I didn't have enough already. It's something I'm going to have to tell the mailman or that guy who mows the lawn.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry...try sitting quietly for a while and sipping something soothing....
Delete