Gossip vs. News

Jonathan said I was a gossip.

I know, I did the big shocked inhale too.

I said I only repeated things one time, so you'd best listen up when I talk.

Jonathan said he'd no idea I had such an ear to the ground, knew so much about other people.

I pointed out that really, I'm simply a reporter. A messenger, so to speak.

(add in big cheeky grin. Or, as big as I can get with jaw surgery...that didn't work - but that's another whole beef in and of itself)

And, um, Jonathan? What's the difference then, between news and gossip, hmmm?

The only one I can find, is that I'm passing along tidbits of folks we know, not those that we don't. I'm not really interested in people in other countries, currently. Shallow as that may sound.

Instead, I rather prefer to share that Elaine Lundgren (yes, that Elaine) has been dying her hair platinum blonde every three weeks, and her hair is falling out. Hmmm. Too bad. This tidbit came by way of the bus stop - not, mind, that I was close enough to slap her, but sitting in my car, with the window down, as it's such a gorgeous day, K's voice wafted over on the breeze. So it's not like I was eavesdropping or anything. That's public knowledge. Anything discussed at the bus stop is public knowledge. Everyone knows that.

Elaine was a shoe in as the model for Fuck Me Pirate Barbie, with black knickers ending at her knees, white blouse not even Elastigirl could've held together over a sent of Store Boughts that were supposedly, a very generous C. More like a very generous DD. Hanging out of the blouse, as well as the black vest, on which she only managed to button one button. She wasn't hiding anything. Tottering around in this getup, on red, plastic stacked heels, I waited for a parrot to land on her shoulder. Then again, that might've gotten in the way of the hoop earrings she had on - she's gotta have a place to put her ankles.

K's husband brought Fox home the other night after they all played baseball together, and told me that Foxy has a great arm. He does. (See? I'm not just sharing the bitchy stuff, but the good stuff too. I've got a strangle hold on Journalistic Integrity.)

This woman, whom I don't know? This morning? Came to school dressed in this fluttery pink blouse stretched across bazooms only a surgeon could create, tucked into the whitest white, tight fitting skirt I've ever seen. In the highest heels too. Now, as J pointed out, there is indeed a time and place for this outfit - school wasn't it. However. I noticed her. Thus, I'm bound to comment. It's like, my duty. Especially when it's apparently a two for one day - or maybe it's a four-fer? As all the Faux Boobies were on display.

Quite frankly, it's making me quite happy that mine hang down around my knees. So what if I have to buy bra's in a balconet style - I prefer those anyway, and since I'm not ever going to sport a g-string, why bother getting the tiny bra to match, to decorate girls that don't move when I sneeze?

I met J and C, two of Lovely J's girlfriend/mom's, and they're just lovely as well. They're little ones are cutie pies too - though apparently J's son, C, plays on a baseball team in town that's going by the moniker of the Bad News Bears. Which is funny, because her husband that was there, is this big hulking guy, who looks like he could totally hold his own on any sporting field.

Or in a dark alley as well. Hey, if I'm ever stuck in a dark alley, this is the guy I'd call.

Sorry Jonathan. But he's way bigger than you. Safety first, you know.

In my opinion, this is the kind of thing published in a local newspaper. Not the boring stuff, like who is running for what, or that the town isn't sure they're hiring a new administrator. I don't really want to read about anything remotely political anymore; not that I'm not interested, but since Mag's and I share a very unique view, we tend to only discuss it, loudly, in Panera Bread, when we're trying to get rid of the volvo-driving, pseudo-granola crunching, un-shaved legged wannabe seated next to us.

I'd rather know what kind of baby Casey's parents (the dog across the street, Pucker just loves her) had. Yes, I know it's human. But boy or girl?

They went out one morning, and haven't been back yet; out of town plated cars parked there this morning, so you know the baby arrived. The condo association won't allow them to hang balloons, or put anything like a giant stork in the yard, but if it was in the paper? Well. Then I'd know, now, wouldn't I?

Of course, it's this kind of stuff that gives us a reason to speak to our neighbors. Chatted up M the other evening to see if I could have some of their smashed unused clay pots to line the bottom of the ones Jonathan put up on the railing; nattered about how one of her daughters finished grad school (yeah!) and they're having an open house. On the 15th. We're invited. And J's boyfriend (the daughter from next door - I know an awful lot of folks with J as their first initial...hmm...wonder if that means anything) B, (shudder, that man needs a new name) rides a kick-ass bike, with a sidecar so his german sheppard can go out with him. Sometimes, Mia wears goggles as well. How fabulous is that!

Got the news that the drunk lady, across the way, with the ill-mannered, constantly barking un-walked beagles got thrown out by the association, for a, being a lush, b, wearing highheeled boots to walk to and from the liquor store, and c, because the beagles have peed so much on their deck that the copper flashing is turning black.

It's my understanding that it takes a good deal to turn copper black.

Now, P next door, who's on the board? He so couldn't tell me that. He could, however, listen to what I'd gleaned being out and about, as a good pet owner, walking my pup, chit-chatting with other dog owners. Like the lady next to door to The Lush. She had quite a bit to say, about the fact that the urine has penetrated the walls, and now their entire condo smells of pee. He had to go inside after that part.But, he told M, his wife, about them being removed (a fancy way of saying exiled) who is more than free to share it with me. And I need to know this stuff! She was a safety hazard to my little guy waiting at the bus stop! She sits in there with her empties, and yells at the kids getting off the bus.

Gossip has such a negative connotation - as well it should. Some of it's just plain mean - the rumors started and spread that are untrue. However, the truth, regardless of how badly it may sting, is still, at the end of the day, the truth; thus, that qualifies as news.

My point? There is a fine line between gossip and news.

I'm firmly planted on the news side.

Anyone can see that.