Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan shudders and says "Oh shit, she's awake."

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Please stop telling me to use my "inside voice", it's "inside voices"...

I have often been told to use my “inside voice”, which always leads me to the question, “You mean most people only have one???” Hell, I have enough “inside” voices in my head to fill a wing at a mental institution. They keep me company. They make me laugh. They cause trouble…a LOT of trouble.

The truth is I have had a nearly constant internal commentary going on inside my head for most of my life, in fact, since I was a small child. If I blurted out even a small fraction of what I am thinking, I would be sitting alone in a closet, sucking my thumb and drinking vodka out of a paper bag – because I would piss off just about everyone, without exception, leaving me without anyone, except my damn inside voices. Most people already think I am fairly visceral and sarcastic with my comments and observations…and that is my kinder, softer “outside” voice. The inside stuff? Wow, that’s all I’m saying. Chelsea Handler has nothing on MY inside voices.

I had drinks last night with my dear friend, Sherrel. She and I try to get together at least once a month – just her and me, and a couple glasses of whatever the “girly drink of the evening” might be. Last night, it was sangria…that deliciously fruity, wickedly sneaky cocktail that makes otherwise perfectly lovely women totally giggly and annoying to the entire male population. We were indeed both giggly AND annoying…but I digress…

During our conversation, she pointed out to me that I make her laugh because I almost always say what everyone else is thinking, but no one wants to say. Hmmmmm…ok, I thought my inside voices were keeping a low profile, but apparently I was mistaken. Dammit, if only I could control my “inside” voices, keep a lid on ‘em, so to speak. They have no “off button”, no sort of filter to keep from saying something completely inappropriate at any given moment. No wonder I get such strange looks from folks on occasion. I’m starting to think I should give each of my inside voices a special name so I have someone on whom I can blame my bad behavior. The whole “blaming it on the booze” thing is getting old with my friends, I can tell.

My inside voices are crude, bawdy, loud and obtrusive. They are the ones that flip off the idiot driver next to me, while screaming obscenities out the window. And they are the ones who can verbally disembowel that creep at the bar whom everyone wishes would just go home, but no one wants to be mean. My inside voices are the true culprits of almost every embarrassingly obnoxious moment I have ever exhibited. On the upside, they are also observant, intuitive, and brutally honest. The last attribute is probably why they are not hugely popular. No one likes being called an a$$hole to his or her face. My inside voices derive copious amounts of pleasure from such outbursts. My inside voices, know no boundaries, and are always willing to cross that invisible line between “socially acceptable” and “batshit crazy.” In general, they mean no harm, unless you cut me off in traffic, but they can be mortifying to anyone who does not have the intestinal fortitude to endure their “moments of clarity”.

To those of you who don’t know me, consider yourself duly warned. To those of you who do know me, please feel free to suggest some names for these “inside voice characters.” Just don’t name any of them A$$hole. They don’t like that much. Maybe they should learn to take it like they dish it out...who knew they were so sensitive?


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