Chatty Cathy Can't Keep it In

Have you ever met someone who likes to hear themselves talk?  So long as the other person has a pulse and is willing to listen, they'll keep rambling on-- about anything and everything because let's face it, they are somewhat of a Know-it-All.


She was too dressed up for a Monday.
White top with gold embellishments.  Nails match the shirt.  Shirt matches the jacket. 
Jacket matches the purse.  She had it going on.  Of course, if anyone wants to be someone in Buckingham, you have to have it going on-- or else you're a nobody.
She sat up at the bar, kiddie corner, facing me.  This girl had brought a friend whom she spoke over the entirety of her stay.

After seeing my apron on the counter, our Nosey Nancy jutted into my conversation with my friend,
"Where is it that you work?  I'm over at Jekyll Place."
"Is that so?"  I was almost amused that even being off work, all she wanted to talk about was work. "Right now I'm down the street at The Valley."


"Ooh.  Have you worked with Chantelle?  So glad we got rid of her."
"Yeah, that's nice. I have... every Thursday through Saturday."
Again, some more information poured out of her.
My ears were beginning to get that drowning-out sensation.  You know, that buzzing that creeps up when you're trapped in an airplane next to a passenger who won't shut up about their four fully-grown children and what they found with their metal detector (true story), but something she said sparked and completely resurrected my interest.

Her beady little eyes sparkled and danced for but a moment as she awaited my response. However, I had not been fully paying attention until now, as I caught myself.
"I'm sorry?" I said as I had her repeat herself, "I didn't catch that."
"Malia? Malia Etienette.  Do you know her?"  She leaned forward, perched in her seat, propping her chin in her elbows on the counter.



Stunned that a complete stranger would bring ME up in small talk, I set my fork down and stopped eating. "I do, yes."  I carefully weighed my options with this conversation, "I do work with her."
"That girl is crazy.  Seriously. Every girl that works with you is crazy."
"What makes her crazy?" I wondered. It was weird.  I've never had to refer to myself in the third person, but this made a game out of it.  Nosey Nancy clearly had no idea that Malia and I were the same person.
"She used to date a friend of mine who manages next door, Evan.  He dumped her because it sounded like she was a trainwreck."
Ouch....not.
"Well" I asked, "have you met her?" I already knew the answer but was willing to be entertained.
"Once,"  she copped, "They were fighting. I don't even know about what."

The server where I was eating lunch at poked his head into our verbal match of ping-pong.
"Ooh.  I love gossip.  Who are we talking about?"
My eyes narrowed, "Malia from The Valley," I said with a huge fake smile, my face frozen as if to say you better not say anything. His eyebrows raised at the incredulity as he got back to his sidework.

I continued, "That's actually why I was told they broke up.  They weren't good for eachother.  Oil and water, and to be honest I heard he wasn't a very nice person as it was.  There were mind games, and he'd put her down a lot.  If they weren't arguing, I would say there would be something very wrong because I wouldn't have put up with being treated like that."
"Oh is that so," Nancy sneered.
I looked at her straight in the face, "Yup."

Nancy got in a few more jabs before I finished up and closed out my lunch tab.

She put her wallet back into her own purse and paused for a moment.  Quizzically she looked up at me, "Do you like her?"
I beg your pardon... now you want to ask me? 
"Yes, actually.  She's got her good days and her bad days, but don't we all?"

She began to collect herself as if to leave while I hurried out of my seat.
"I'm Vicki, over at Jekyll Place by the way."
"So nice to meet you too," I smiled as I slung my purse over my shoulder. "I'm Malia."


Her beady eyes, previously full of attitude and gall, suddenly widened as her face drained of color.
I'm almost certain she even pinched a nugget in her panties.

But here is a nugget (of wisdom) for you.

There are certain things you can and cannot say in public-- especially to a stranger.
Just because I work at the same place as the person you are talking about, does that mean I want to hear what you have to say about a definite acquaintance and even possible friend of mine? 
How badly do you want to make yourself look?  Who are you trying to impress? Does slandering someone else's name and reputation make you feel better about yourself?

I censor myself because I do not know who may be reading my articles.There are those who may be able to connect "Buckingham" as the actual city I am referring to. I change names for the protection of personal character as well as the right to privacy. Choose your words with caution.



Like Nosey Nancy, you might not know the identity of the person you are speaking to even in a face-to-face confrontation.  

I'm tired of the drama and the gossip that exists in this litte bubble of Buckingham, I really am.
It's just very coincidental and non-expected that word about myself manages to make it full circle.
Well, Vicky, so does Karma :)

My mother would say, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

-Malia Etienette

Photo Credit:
"You Talk Too Much"- www.ashevillestrength.com
"Mr. Men's childrens books by Roger Hargreaves": www.squidoo.com
"Gossip: Recognizing and Repairing Relationships": www.katykelly42.wordpress.com
"HI My Name Is":  www.tumblr.com
"Fuck Censorship on Spill": www.my.spill.hollywood.com