Early Age of Ridicule

                Rumor: to talk or opinion widely disseminated with no discernible source; also a statement or report current without known authority for its truth
                What does it take to start a rumor? Seeing something happen and drawing your own conclusions? Seeing two people talking, and assuming they have a “secret”? Just getting bored and thinking, “you know what almost sounds true but isn’t?”

           You’ve heard the term “loose lips sink ships,” well let’s change it in this case to say: flapping gums ruin chums, or jib-jab is a drab. Lame phrases, I know, but it is better than using some of the choice four letter words that usually come to mind.

People don't know how to watch their mouths now a days.

         Some fun topics came up this past week that I found interesting when it came to rumors and name calling, they were again in the political arena, which oddly enough, I really do hate. One of my favorites is the Slimary Process. I believe the correct phrase we are looking for here is "Oh no, he didn't."

These "fine gentlemen" are truly at each other's throats. They are coming across as children arguing over a toy and telling mommy tales about one another to see who gets the prize. Oh, the humanity.
I do however enjoy the differing styles in the videos below. Romney's depicts Gingrich almost like a devil in a comedic style, while seeming to speak in the language of the common folk (i.e. "Really?").  While good ol'Newt's pictures seem some what flattering, but goodness me doesn't that rubber stamped graphic just drive his point home. I sure do fear election day.

Personally, I dislike smear campaign tactics. If I am going to vote for someone, I don't want it to be because they were the best at trash talking the competition. I want it to be because I made up my own mind and believed in what they stood for based on the facts.

And now for something completely different, it is time for the personal rumor of the week:

While I am now a well dressed professional woman, with a semi-ridiculous shoe collection, my beginnings were as a tomboy. I ran, I played, I got dirty, I got bruises, scrapes and broken bones, I rarely wore dresses, hated the color pink, and didn’t like baby dolls. I loved every minute of my adventurous childhood.

Things have changed a bit now, though I still enjoy playing and watching sports, I love the occasional journey into the unknown, and I still have more guy friends than I do girl friends (I find men easier to talk to and less backstabbing). But now, in contrast, I also wear dresses and high heels, use makeup, and prefer to be seen as a lady.

Seeing as this change in me did not come about until my late teen years, this caused some issues in the dating arena. Guys looked at me as a buddy, but not as a possible prospect. Not to mention the added complication of my father being in an authoritative role in the community. Everyone knew of him and everyone feared him, though none of them knew him for the guy’s guy that he is, (they would have loved him had they given me a chance).

One of my earliest rumors started around this time. I was 17 and ready to mingle, I would soon be going off to college, where no one knew me, (or my dad), and I could start fresh dipping my toe in the dating pool.

At this point, an uncle of mine came to stay at my parent’s house while he got back on his feet. During his stay he would constantly ask me if I was dating anybody at school. I truthfully would always answer no. To this his immediate response was always, “Why, are you gay?”

I would laugh off this snide comment each time and try not to think of it again. Unfortunately, what I didn’t realize was my uncle was spreading that idea through the family.

Coming from a Catholic family with very easily influenced and judgmental grandparents, I quickly learned I could no longer ignore my uncle’s brain-fart like ideas. As a teenager, I wasn’t ready to face being shunned by people I loved. Enter the abrupt confrontation with Uncle Enemy Number One.  

In truth, this was not the first time I had been dubbed as such. I found out just recently that my best friend growing up was also told the same thing about me by her parents when we were in middle school. Again I repeat, I was a tomboy. Granted I had untamable hair in a boyish style cut (stylist’s fault), glasses, and excess baby fat; but come on, who isn’t awkward when they are in middle school.

To clarify, my sexual preference is not based on my religion or my upbringing; it is however, based on the fact that … ladies, we are crazy bitches. We can and do drive each other crazy, just as we do to men, and seriously I just don’t think I could take all the drama. Now, I applaud any woman who is a lesbian, because you are living your life how you want to, and feel free to thumb your nose at anyone who would try to change you or tell you there is something wrong with you. I have no problem with homosexuality. I just know it is not for me. So I’ll just stick with men.

Learning that people, both friends and family, thought this of me wasn't hurtful, it was merely annoying to see conclusions that people come up with based on very few details.

I’ll leave you with a quote from the pen of Shakespeare that illustrates where rumors might originate: “Rumor is a pipe blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures …”

Yours truly,
Lady Chattergirl