“the only thing worse than being talked about, is not being talked about”. – Oscar Wilde: homeboy.
The other evening we played a game of Chinese whispers. The concept of whispering a simple message through 5 people seems easy enough, yet still proved too hard to follow for a bunch of young delinquents like us. Its funny how in the course of a few ears words can twist and turn to such extent. I can now see how harmless Goss can escalate and pass itself along. While the initial whisperer is left trying to recall what they actually created to begin with. Of course, our versions of Chinese whispers are fun and involve bagging each other out in a light hearted manner. I am no bitch/ hater in real life. I do however walk around with the vision in mind that the people you keep company with are a clear reflection of yourself. That is why you’ll rare find me snuggled up with a common bimbo for more than minutes at a time as it literally sucks the life out of me to the point where I wonder why the urge for breast implants has never found me.
I enjoy sitting back with a cool bevy and watch the drama unfold right before my very eyes. Sometimes i swear it’s a show for the hidden MTV film crew lurking in the bush behind, but mostly I conclude its just for sake of juicy, over reacted drama. Some days times get so dull and bland (or is that just the character of people I'm occasionally forced upon) that I consider creating the drama myself. You know, taking my shirt off outside the beery to show how well my protein supplements are doing and kicking the shit out of a fellow pub crawler. But, its lucky for us that being on a coast that is considered small (in relative size to Sydney), all we need is to put a few hormonal females in a room with past flings and feelings hanging on the wall, whisper a few of the wrong words to a few of the right people, pull the pin and
BOOM
Bomb goes off in face. Usually filled with a vivid colour display of fireworks to be enjoyed by all. Just like fireworks, the drama can be short and a costly affair. From the comfort of my simple existence do I watch, and chuckle to myself. It’s all a bit of fun for those not involved. Sometimes pieces of potential goss casually falls into my lap and I find myself having to decide to shelf it or pass it along to the next set of open ears, and should I spread it like Chlamydia it could create an afternoon delight for all to enjoy. But the reality is the truth does reveal…and punishment for the sly comes in the form of many means. Karma, STI’s, social suicide, public awareness.When it comes to my own personal secret keeping, I find the best source is my precious kitty. Her ears are always perked up ready for the goss, and she gives no attention to me or what im saying, unless I do so while holding a can of opened tuna. Persuasion at its best.
Tonight as my ears started burning I Initially joked that it was due to being talked about (those old wives really know their stuff). Well heres hoping I was being spoken of. Compared to the drama addicts of the coast I live a somewhat quiet life. The biggest drama I have is avoiding the company of such people. Rolling around trying to rub it off and further taint this already over ruled town of ours. I’d like to think that when and if i get bitched about, its with the sweetest of intentions. I try to see the best in people, even if it through their exterior of 3 layers of fake tan.
You know you love me. XOXO Gossip Girl
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