Eavesdropping's all fun and giggles, until the talk turns to monkeys
by Lindsay Ferrier
I like to eavesdrop.
This news probably doesn't come as much of a surprise, since many of my columns are based at least in part on the interactions of people around me. I believe nosiness is the hallmark of a good writer. So when I listen in on others' conversations, I'm not really meddling: I'm simply honing my craft. Consequently, my husband has grown accustomed to being randomly shushed when we're out on a date night.
"So there we were, my photographer and I, in the middle of nowhere," he'll say, "when this guy comes out of the woods with a tomahawk and yells—"
"SHHHHHHHHHH," I stop him. "I just heard something about someone working for Faith Hill!" I lean forward and put my ear close to the bar, hoping to catch a few extra sound waves traveling down its gleaming surface. Bingo. I tune in the beleaguered-looking brunette three seats down.
"Oh, you won't believe this, Hubs," I murmur after listening for a moment. "She says Faith has been having stomach bubbles."
"Stomach bubbles?" Hubs asks. "What the hell are those?"
"You know," I say, waving my hand dismissively. "It's like a … a singer thing. You hit one too many high notes, and the next thing you know, your stomach sends up a bubble. It can totally ruin a song like 'This Kiss.' "
I smile with deep satisfaction. Now I'll have something to talk about at my next Bible study. "Faith Hill's been having stomach bubbles," I imagine myself saying authoritatively to the other women. "Or possibly hammock troubles, which wouldn't surprise me either. We left our hammock outside this winter and the squirrels chewed it to bits!"
"How do you know so much, Lindsay?" someone will ask admiringly.
"Oh, girls," I'll laugh. "Believe me, I get around!"
Eavesdropping is responsible for many of my favorite memories. Who cares if the memories aren't actually mine? I recall fondly, for example, the teenage girls once seated in the booth next to mine at Waffle House. They'd wanted to toilet-paper someone the night before, but were so worried about getting caught that they decided to simply toilet-paper their own yard.
"My dad's face!" one said, as their young hostess laughed helplessly. "He was all, 'Stephanie! Who is responsible for this?!' And we're all, 'Oh, it must have been some boys or something!'" The girls laughed until tears streamed down their faces. One booth down, I shrieked with laughter right along with them — at least until they noticed me and grew quiet. Quickly, I got hold of myself and became very involved in a staring contest with my raisin toast.
After that incident, I learned to be a little more covert about my snooping. Take last Saturday night, when I was having dinner with my friend Yvonne. We were chatting about nothing in particular when I heard it.
"Shhhhhhhh," I said, holding up one finger. "Monkeys." Yvonne looked confused. Quietly, I pointed at the next table, where a man was holding court over his rapt tablemates.
"That chimp was a pain in the ass," the man was saying. "Remember that Rodney Dangerfield movie with the chimp? Yep, that's the one I'm talking about."
"Yvonne," I said quietly, "I think that guy over there is some kind of monkey man!"
"A monkey ma—"
"SHHHHHHHH!" "—and somehow, that damned chimp got hold of a loaded shotgun," the man continued. "And so we all hit the floor and had to stay there on the set until the chimp put the damned thing down." His audience laughed while Yvonne and I looked at each other in disbelief.
"There was one monkey, though, that was just plain mean," the man said. "He'd smile at you and look all cute, and then when you got close, he'd grab your head real quick and bang it against the wall of his cage." I shuddered.
"So this woman comes in one day," he went on, "and she just had to have that monkey. I tried to warn her about him, but she wouldn't listen. Had to have him. So she takes him home and the monkey gets loose and starts tearing her house to pieces. She calls out the wildlife people and it took 'em four hours to catch that monkey and put him back in his cage.
"So the next day, she brings that monkey back. 'You tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen,' she says. Well, I felt bad and let her trade him in for another monkey. And as soon as she left, I took that monkey in the back and I shot him."
Yvonne and I stared at one another, eyes wide.
"And then I took him to a taxidermist and had him stuffed," the man continued. "Brought him home and put him in a chair. And whenever I look at that monkey now, I just laugh and laugh." He sat back, pleased.
"That is the most jacked-up story I've ever heard," I said in amazement. We sat in silence, both of us uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
That's the thing about eavesdropping. Sometimes, you learn more about monkey business than you ever really wanted to know.
Read more Suburban Turmoil at www.suburbanturmoil.com.
Comments (15)
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Awwwww....this post made me really sad! Stories about cruelty to animals and children, especially lately, have been sending me over the edge! On another topic, your Suburban Turmoil post about why you started blogging really inspired me. Please stop by if you get a chance. http://jacoblawrencenewman.blogspot.com/
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Wow. That is something. I remember a sweet story I overheard at Starbucks one day. One girl was telling her friend about when she and her now-husband were dating: "We were about to graduate college and get jobs, and he had been thinking maybe it was time to break up. One night, we had a date and went to see 'The Family Man' with Nicholas Cage. I didn't know it, but he was intending to break up with me that night. But that movie made him decide we should get married instead." It IS a great movie when you need to feel good about married life, and now I think of that story every time I watch it. --JMK www.mattandjesskelley.blogspot.com
Oooh! I have a story that still makes me laugh. About seven years ago, my husband and I were having a quiet lunch in a outdoor cafe at the Getty Museum in LA. Two highly-overdressed ladies maneuvered a stroller to the table next to ours and sat down with their lunches. They evidently decided that "outdoor cafe" meant "outdoor voices", and so we got to enjoy their very important conversation about all the modeling and acting gigs "precious baby Maddie" had in the coming weeks. "Well, of course she's the cutest and most well behaved! [Name drop big actress] just couldn't stop talking about it!" shrieked the younger woman. "And the way she just SMILES OR FROWNS ON CUE!" bellowed the older lady, patting the stroller. And on and on. I was naturally curious about this perfect actress child. So I casually strolled over to the farthest garbage can to drop off a napkin, and on the way back peeked in to the stroller to the sleeping child. The baby was cute enough for a newborn, but she was a NEWBORN. She didn't look more than four weeks old. And while I love little newborns, they are not cute and they don't smile. They are scrawny and monkey-like and very sweet. But not cute. I often wonder what happened to little Maddie.
OMFG, is it wrong of me to laugh...I just couldn't imagine overhearing that conversation! I overheard some moms at the library talking to eachother at story time and I was obviously gawking, anyway, the mother was talking about her perfect kids and how polite and great they are yaddieyaddahyadda and her kid comes out of story time and yells "I wanted four books not three, what is wrong with you?" I may or may not have laughed out loud ;) hattahall.blogspot.com
Glad to know that I am not the only one "shhhh-ing" the husband to listen to my neighbors in the booth. :) And wow - never know the Monkey Business was so messy!!! Jaime http://supermom04.blogspot.com
The TP-ing story is a classic!!!! My boss had to come into my office to check on me I was laughing so hard reading this post!!!!! And who knew the monkey business was so.....messy!?!?!?
Oh,my! I'm chuckling over here. Sometimes a good overheard conversation is better than a celebrity sighting! www.JourneysAndDetours.com
Great story! I love your eavesdropping stories!!! http://sprocketswife.blogspot.com/
I love evesdropping... if you see me in Starbucks alone with a book, check and see if it's upsidedown, since there is no way I'm reading... that being said... He SHOT the monkey?!? Not cool... http://highmaintenanceaspirations.blogspot.com/2010/03/did-i-ever-tell-you-about-time.html
Well . . . at least you have enough sense not to comment. I seem to strike up conversations with people based on eves dropping all the time. I'm begining to think they don't think I'm all that funny. :-) I love your monkey business pun -- very funny.
Animals best left to the wild: white tigers, killer whales and.. monkeys! Although maybe that monkey man should be put with them in the wild as well. I am sure there are some monkeys that would like a "word" with him.. craftycanine.blogspot.com
My husband always makes me feel horrible when I eavesdrop - I tell him everyone does it! Sometimes it is like a game, trying to piece together bits of info when you can't hear everything - then forming your own conclusions about what they are talking about! www.thecastlebeckons.blogspot.com
My husband always makes me feel horrible when I eavesdrop - I tell him everyone does it! Sometimes it is like a game, trying to piece together bits of info when you can't hear everything - then forming your own conclusions about what they are talking about! www.thecastlebeckons.blogspot.com
Love this monkey tale...I swear that people watching and public eavesdropping (two of my favorite past-times, mind you) are *vastly* underrated. Go to a restaurant and it's dinner and a show...the fun is in the mystery of what the show will be. I used to wait tables and got to hear and see all kinds of fascinating bits--btw you can always see a break-up coming a mile away! ~Margaret www.maurhoffbarney.blogspot.com
