You know how sometimes you can say the wrong thing out loud - and far too loud - for the situation? You know how YOU probably only do that, I dunno, like three times a year? If that? I do not know what normal behavior is anymore, so I'm probably guessing high.
Well I do it often. So much lately, that it's becoming alarmingly less surprising each time. Look, if I'm alarmed, you know it's pretty scary for those around me.
Today's office jibber jabber consisted of famous people. Some people in our office apparently have famous pals, sisters, brothers, friends of someone's dog sitter, etc. Some have been in movies no one has heard of, some were extras, some are names everyone would recognize.
A co-worker came to my desk after ovehearing one of these conversations. She was reviewing the names that had been dropped. She was ruminating about how nifty it would be to hang out with the "famous". This is when I impulsively blurted out "The thing is, we don't know what 'famous' people are really like apart from their public persona...."
Right about here is were all ambient office noise suddenly ceased, creating (what I prefer to view as) the illusion that I was practicaly screaming when I continued,
"...I mean, most of them probably just end up locking themselves in your bathroom so they can do a line or ten of coke off your counter!"
Well that did it. The co-worker in question suddeny heard her phone ringing and ran the hell away. All the other people who didn't just hear my comment, but were force fed the thing at a freakishly uncomfortable volume, intermittently broke their stunned stance and wandered away while trying not to make eye contact with me.
My mind loves - LOVES - to take a conversation happening in my vacininty, find an obscure reference from my life's past, and pretend that it makes perfect sense to throw some varation of that experience out into the world.
Years before Mr. Zoom I dated a musician. He played in a band with another musician who was - semi famous - maybe at some point in his past musical career. At this point however, about 98, 97 - this particular individual had made it a habit to appear at our home without notice. He would then walk directly into our loo, lock himself in, and do coke off our counters for hours. By himself. I never found out what finally made him leave - I had always bolted from the household before he departed.
That situation, while possibly the teeniest bit relevant to a discussion about famous people, was of no value to the conversation at hand. Yet my mind readied and shot that cannon ball of information out into my workplace - as if it was the bestest example of famous folk and their antics, EVER.
I tell Mr. Zoom all the time "Sometimes my face just talks. I don't know how or why. Please don't divorce me." Now I'll have to add "when I get fired."