Sharpen Your Claws Ladies

A few glasses of wine last night elicited conversation with Middle Chicken. It thrills me when she’s home for a number of reasons; mostly that she is sensible like The Norwegian and can calm any storm that is not her own. Her conversations are deep, worldly, intellectual and stimulating where mine are small, fashion directed and fueled by alcohol.

As any man can attest, women’s conversations are hard to follow at best. We wander subject to subject with no seeming conjoiners. It frustrated The Norwegian, eliciting him to comment, “How did we get to that?” “Wait, what happened to…” And me, “You’re not listening are you?” “Okay then tell me the last thing I said.” Fail Norwegian.

Together, women don’t face the same uphill conversation struggles. We get it. We can sense where your tangent is going and we’re happy to take the ride as it will eventually journey back to the original thought. It always does and we don’t doubt the process. Wine helps. Last night Middle Chicken and I traveled on the Pinot Grigio train until the wee hours. We covered politics, the fiscal cliff, television shows, Django Unchained featuring Jamie Foxx’s junk full on and then, as women do, we hit on other chicks. And then it got good.

She told me hers and I told her mine. We discussed bitchy girls in DC, a particular bitch here in Scottsdale playing in my pond and chicks we love. Chicks we love include ourselves, Baby Chicken, the goddess Trish and her girls, sorority sisters, Sandra Day O’Connor and Peeka our little white cat. The chicks we love have things in common. They are smart, funny, happy, giving, kick ass, don’t take crap from anyone girls who rarely gossip without provocation. And then…

Then we got to chicks that bug the shit out of us. We all have them. You know the bitch you’ve known for years yet every time you see her she acts like you haven’t met. Or the girl who knows all about your new business and when you bring the bags to a gathering and everyone is oohing and aahing acts like she doesn’t see what’s going on. Yep–I have a girlfriend who dissed Francie. I belong to a group which will remain unnamed. The group knows all my history–the Norwegian, Amour bags, blah blah blah. When Miss Francie arrived, she was invited to meet the gals. The ladies admired her beauty, looking inside, passing her about. Girlfriend flitted about the room acting as if she were so busy she didn’t notice. Same girlfriend acted as if she didn’t see Middle Chicken at a party a couple of weeks ago. When Middle Chicken said hello, she said, “Oh Hi. I did see you. I’m just so busy.” Essentially, yes, I am ignoring you.

Here’s the good part. As we discussed said girlfriend, Middle Chicken says, “You know it is harder to ignore a situation than to join in. You have to work to make it look like you’re not even noticing what is going on. You have to work at actively ignoring a friend’s life. Does she think we don’t know what she’s doing?” There’s that damn insight thing. Whose child is this? “You’re right, says I. “It does take more effort. Like when you really don’t want to see someone and you kind of just look right through them or around them?” We laughed and realized there is a shitload of crap we ladies do to each other and we all know the tricks. So do we really think were fooling anyone? Stupor induced, we decided this needs a list.

Sharpen your claws Ladies. It’s the list of girl shit that must end in 2013. Make it a resolution.

Behavior One: Don’t claim Facebook innocence (“I don’t even have a Facebook!” in your squee voice.) when you tell one girlfriend information about another girl that could have only been garnered by a thorough stalking of her Facebook. Let’s put on our big girl panties and tell each other what we’re pissed about. All that can happen is a punch in the face and more snarky backbiting.

Behavior Two: Being nasty over another chick’s success does not diminish her; it diminishes you. There truly is enough to go around and the time spent bitching about another girl could be better spent plotting something important like what to serve at cocktail hour or the similarities of the Francie and Chloe Bags and which is a better value. Hint: it’s the Francie. And she’s prettier.

Behavior Three: Stop playing damsel in distress. Women generally do this when they want to say something shitty about another woman. Example: You’ve been busted gossiping, get called out and cry, “I can’t believe she said that to me. I wasn’t saying anything to hurt her.” You’re not the victim and besides everybody know the damsel in distress card only works with boys. Dumbass.

Behavior Four: If you are unable to stop talking during a meeting ‘cuz you’re sitting next to your bestie and you guys only function as Siamese, separate for the sake of everyone else. You’re a big girl. You really can be quiet for a half hour. Besides, people don’t get jealous that you have a best friend. They talk about what a pain in the ass you are in the parking lot.

Behavior Five: When you go to a girls home and you are overwhelmed by its’ beauty and her decorating talent, even if you hate her guts, tell her the house is beautiful. You can recognize the work that went into it regardless of style. When you don’t, she knows you’re jealous and you look petty. Besides you can always take a priceless little something and hide it in the bathroom to satisfy your green eyed monster. Or copy her style at Ross smug in the knowledge that at least you didn’t spend thousands on that ugly rug.

Behavior Six: When you talk about another chick from across the room with your hand in front of your mouth while looking directly at her, she knows you’re talking about her. Two minutes later when you act like her pal–you’re just an asshat. Learn to whisper with your head down and for god sake don’t look at her while you talk. Did you not learn this in eighth grade?

Behavior Seven: When you act like you don’t know me and then ask me to join your linked in network, I’m not going to do it. We’ve been in the same place 500 times over the past ten years, have daughters the same age and I’ve introduced myself 47 times. You can’t possibly be that much of an airhead. After the fortieth time, I got that you do this on purpose. I ask your friends what’s the deal and they say you’re just socially awkward–yeah, and I’m Kate, Duchess of Cornwall. Glad to meet you for the forty eighth time.

Behavior Eight: I know you read my blog. So now I know you know I’ve written about you. It’s my bitchy revenge for your games over the past year. Snark, indeed, can do wonders for a girl’s self esteem. Just know from now on, I’m watching you. Picture me, two fingers pointing from my eyes to yours. Full circle kind of sucks non?

At 2 a.m. Middle Chicken pulled up a quote. She’s deep. Here’s what she said.

“Great people talk about ideas. Average people talk about things. Small people talk about other people.”

Unless it’s with your mom.