Ittybittycrazy

James Joyce has been re-incarnated. As a woman.

And he isn't allowed to be a writer this lifetime, so he's decided to just live his stream of consciousness expression through cacophonous verbalization.

No, I'm not crazy. This is just the only explanation I can think of for the woman two rows back on the plane yesterday who had a loud, nasaly voice and did not shut the fuck up for two and a half hours.

Example of her stream of consciousness monologue (and yes, it was a monologue, because the poor woman sitting next to her couldn't get a word in edgewise):

Yes, I have three kids. My first is 13 and is finding where she fits in at school. You know how that is. My second is doing fine, far as I can tell. My third is kinda stressy. You know, the youngest, not the strongest. He is also the only boy, so it's hard. We try to help him and make sure he has man time with his daddy but it's hard because my husband works so hard and I'm the one home all day and so he is surrounded by three females and oh, we had such a sad time last year when our dog died. We had her for 13 years. We were at the vet and I was just crying and crying. So silly I know but I just remembered all the great times we had together you know? She would play with the kids and jump up on the bed and I remember her chewing my shoes when she was a puppy and she used to swim in the lake with the kids and she really looked after my youngest when he wanted to just be boisterous and go outside and play. But he can also play with our little rabbit. Yes, we have a bunny. He's the cutest little thing. Brown and soft and cuddly. Our neighbor has one of those rabbits that are white with red eyes. I don't like those, they're creepy. Mostly it just stays in the garden and the mud room but my second daughter likes to take it up to her room and I told her, I said, just be careful of all those wires up there, honey. And of course with us and the neighbor having rabbits we have to be so careful with our fences because just the tiniest hole and they'll get out...

Hell, my friends.

Hell is other people.

Update on Saturday, October 17, 2009 at 6:09PM by

Ittybittycrazy

There must be a secret society of loud women with nasal voices, and they are out to get me. I've been identified and targeted as a hostile. They are therefore seeking me out and annoying the living shit out of me.

That first one on the plane was Agent 001.

At the pool today, Agent 002 was on her cell phone.

We were at the over 18 pool. Now why, I ask you, dear reader, with tears in my eyes, would a hotel even have an over 18 pool? And why would people use it?

What it is about children at a pool that might irritate someone?

Could it be... might it possibly... can we humbly propose that it is because of the NOISE?

And so sitting with your feet in the pool talking loudly on your cell phone, that's rude, isn't it, wrinkly-leathered-faced-too-much-sun lady?

Fluffy Bear had to do something about this one and so, he asked her, very politely, to talk more softly. Apparently she moderated her voice. I didn't witness it... I'd buggered off to go and lie in the hammock on the grass, out of hearing range.

Later on, back at the pool, Agent 003.

Part of some work junket, she found a colleague she knew and decided to make small talk.

This time it was all about her car ("It's so smooth you just don't know what speed you're going"), getting a speeding ticket on the way to the hotel and how her husband was playing the highway game with some guy.

"You know the one," she said. "Where you overtake him and then he overtakes you and you are pretty much driving on your long journey together.

"So my husband was keeping pace with him and, when we got the ticket, he said the guy in the Merc had totally drawn him into the trap!"

Yeah, right.

Then it was all about her daughter and how she'd lost her job and was learning to live cheaply - cancelled her cable, eating differently, and now blogging on how to live life spending less.

Finally!

Something I'd WANT to overhear.

I waited to hear the blog URL.

"It's Callie-something-cheap-something...

"No, it's cheapliving-something..."

She didn't remember it.