People Tell Me Things

People tell me things. They tell me things about their life that normal people share with friends in normal conversation. I get told a lot about how their job hunt is going, or getting ready to move out of their parent's house and start a new life, or even worse, how their love life is doing. And then they ultimately ask for advice. And I am the perfect person to go to for relationship advice, I have always advocated that. In all my relationships, how many ended with her not talking to me for a number of weeks and/or months? Exactly, all of them. But how many of them still talk to me now after they have had time to think about what they are missing? Exactly... uhhh, next topic.

People tell me things. Deep secrets of love and love lost. Topics that really bring two people together in a bond of truth about those most serious woes of the heart. But no one has ever told me that they have accidently killed a man in a hit and run accident... and that hurts me inside. If I can be trusted to divulge the most intimate of relationship details to, why can you not tell me of the time you burnt down that church while the nuns were asleep inside on a dare? Am I not good enough for you to explain to me how you stole $15 million dollars from the Special Olympics back in 1997? The defintion of friendship is one of trust and understanding. Now I trust you, why can't you understand that I want to hear your stories of defacing a public building with Nazi propaganda?!

People tell me things. They don't tell me anything remotely interesting, just the boring mundane trials of life. If I have to sit through another story of how someone's grandmother "got through the surgery well and is going to make a complete recovery," I think I'm going to get sick. Woo Hoo! Her gaul bladder didn't explode. Mine hasn't either. Congratu-frikkin-lations. Do you really want to impress me? Tell me grandma's last dying words were "Avenge my death!" and you spent the last three hours stalking around a hospital with a syringe full of mercury looking for the bastard of a medical student who brought your grandma lunch that day just because he's wearing a white coat. Moving around slowly and inconspicuously you take out every member of the medical staff that came into contact with your grandma that day just in case, and you want to make sure grandma's got company in hell.

People tell me things. What do you have to tell me?