Conversations with Strangers

Do you ever find yourself in conversations with random people and you feel like if you don't respond a certain way, you'll get a dirty look...or shot? It happens to me a lot. I don't know why. It usually happens when I'm getting my hair cut. Hair dressers just really open up to you. You'll start on some normal topic and usually end up talking about murdering an ex-boyfriend and they want you to agree with them and I'm afraid that if I don't...I'll end up on their list. So, I just laugh nervously and nod. 

This is a conversation I recently had with the gal (we'll call her Tamara) who gave my hair a little trimaroo. 

Ruth: Just leave it long enough so I can pull it in a ponytail. I'm playing softball this summer and it'll drive me crazy if I can't pull it up. 

Tamara: Oh, what league are you playing with? 

Ruth: The city league. 

Tamara: Well, fun...I used to play with them, but I've got an ex-boyfriend that works down at the park. We got into some physical fights when we were dating. He had to go to the hospital twice. I don't want to be running into him, you know. Hahahaha, you know what I mean...hahaha...*nudge nudge*

Ruth: Ha...yep...uh...wow. Boys...ha. 

How Ruth really wanted to respond: Yeah, that's a big no for me. I have no idea what you mean. 

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Last year, this is a conversation I had with the lady (we'll call her Joan) at that salon near the Winn Dixie. 

Joan: I tell ya what...men...can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Ruth: Yeah yeah...haha. (Raised eyebrow)

Joan: 'Bout two years ago, my boyfriend and I were fighting a lot and I finally just told him to hit the road, you know. Time to get out...time to be free of that bum.

Ruth: Yep. 

Joan: Well, I found out later he had been cheatin' on me with some pile of trash named Candy. What kind of a name is Candy? So, I'm glad I threw his sorry behind out. (substituting some words here)

Ruth: Wow...that's crazy. 

Joan: Yeah, and then the idiot decides he wants to come back to me. Begs for me to take him back. He shows up to my house one night knocking on the door...I run back to the bedroom and grab the shotgun and cock it once and yell at him that I don't want none of his cheatin' ways no more and to skedaddle. I told him I was gonna call the cops. That would've been the 5th time they were there that week for some other stuff I had been up to. He finally headed off...but I would have shot his sorry rear if he had been on that porch for three more seconds, you know. You gotta do what you gotta do, you know...*nudge nudge*

Ruth: Yeah...ha...yep...I uh...yeah. (discreetly dialing 911)

How Ruth really wanted to respond: How did you pass the background check to get a shotgun? 

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And also the time I was buying new tires and the guy behind me (we'll call him Robert) says: New tires?

Ruth: Oh, yeah...my other ones are losing their tread pretty bad.

Robert: That's what I'm here for, too. Gotta get something that'll get me away from the cops faster, you know what I mean. Har har har! 

Ruth: Ha ha. (gulp! and turn back towards the counter)

How Ruth really wanted to respond: Yeah, no. I generally don't do stuff that would warrant them wanting to chase me. 

How Ruth really really wanted to respond to see the reaction of other people in line: You're gonna want the new Michelin Turbo 3000 X for that.