“You Gossiping Old Cow!”

original_screen-printed-gossiping-cow-tea-towel

Tongues are never idle and lips are never still,

you can listen all day but do you ever get your fill

of tidbits of gossip to spread down the vine

but if they gossip about you, is that where you draw the line?

 

 

Animated faces as secrets are told,

does small town living never get old?

A whisper in the ear, a lifting of the brow,

“I’m outta here, you gossiping old cow!”

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

Gossip, the curse of small town living. Some people love small towns and some people hate ’em! Me? I hated it and left. My mother would always say, “I can sit on my front porch and find out what you girls are up to.” Well this one is for you, mother!

LOL! I had fun with this one. Oh!, and fuck small towns!

17 thoughts on ““You Gossiping Old Cow!”

    • I probably should have said small HOME towns because you’ll NEVER have one iota of anonymity in THAT particular small town. Although, small towns anywhere are just as gossipy but it may not be quite as bad if they don’t know a damn thing about you before you get there unlike being born there. I live in a small town now, but it is so spread out due to huge farms and the main street just has the post office, city hall and an Irish pub. Suffice it to say, I don’t fit in with the locals here and am usually back and forth into the nearest big town which is fine by me.

      Unlike you Tube, I kept going back thinking that things would change. How wrong I was, but I’m over that shit now! You’re the smart one who never regretted it. Apparently, when you move on, you should stay moved on. I had to find that out the hard way.

      Thanks for your comment Tube!

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  1. Hey… I live in a small town. Oh yes and by the by, it is kind of fucked up. But I’ve lived in Megalopolis and that was really REALLY fucked up. I wouldn’t wish a fucked up on your town…
    Damn, I think you’ve hurt my feelings.

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    • Ahhhh, Skulz! How can I ever make it up to you? See my post above yours. I live in a small town now but it is SO unlike my small HOME town that I’m okay with it because no one knows me and we are so spread out due to gigamungous and hugamungus farms and all with just a little bitsy teensy weensy main street. But here, no one knows me and I don’t know anyone and that’s the way I like it. No one in my goddamn business day in and day out.

      I swear I hated it when my mother would call me and tell me that she had heard that I was propping up the bar in the hotel across from my place of employment and can you believe it, I was employed and over the age of 21! I mean like, gosh and golly gee, what was the fucking big deal? Oh, and she heard that I was practically hanging from a chandelier at the company Christmas party with both shoes off and sipping champagne from my stiletto heel. Oh, the damn gossip about me! Only half of it was true, I might add. I mean, if they’re gonna gossip about me, at least get it ALL down right and good, ya know! LMAO!

      ….and don’t worry, I’ll find some way to soothe those hurt feelings of yours and mother need never know! Ha! Ha!

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      • :} ummm, I was messing with you just a little bit. Please forgive us, we are the bad man. Small towns suck and oh yeah the gossip is obscene if not life threatening.
        So a way back in the day, we’re at the “office x-mas party” and this lady I worked with was drunk oh man drunk. So I tells Jill which was lady’s name, “go shake you tits at the boss man. Head CEO and all. So Jill DOES! Gets up on boss man’s table, rips off her top and shakes her very ample titties at the boss. Well needless to say we NEVER had another x-mas party and Jill wears that little stunt to this very day. Me? I denied any and all culpability in the matter and got off scot-free as nothing could ever be proven. So on top of being a very bad man, I am a notorious instigator with malice and lechery aforethought. mea culpa and oh yeah…

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  2. A bit lighthearted, it brought a smile to my face. I grew up in a small town and although I don’t dislike them, small towns do tend to breed small minded ideas…along with wariness of newcomers. These are things that are not quite as visible in an urban setting as they are generally more of a “melting pot”, to coin a phrase.

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    • Thanks for the comment Dom and it could also depend on the small town. There were just so many busybodies and mean spirited people that would gossip about what the young folk were doing. It was as if they were upset that their time to shine was over because they had faded from the limelight with old age. Older people, I have found are some of the meanest folks, at least where I’m originally from. And no, I’m not saying that ALL old folks are mean, but they were always the ones that were grouped together, gossiping, telling tales and stirring up shit, the mean ole cows! LOL!

      Thanks again Dom for stopping in. Much appreciated!

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  3. Shelby, Trouble with most towns/cities/hamlets is they’re full of people. You got people, you’ll have gossip! It’s a major part of why we learned to talk, in my expert opinion as an armchair anthropologist … so all right, I took one measly intro course, but I passed it.

    Even so, small towns are a great place to be from … as far, far from as possible! After an hour of tall tales and convoluted geneologies of their colorful in-laws and exes at our last official hometown family gathering, I kind of alienated my (half-)siblings by wondering if it was really safe to reproduce with anyone in the county without a thorough DNA check. Makes me claustrophobic as hell. Who needs the NSA for 24/7 surveillance, when you have the small-town grapevine?

    Thanks for reminding me why I moved and stayed moved. But in fairness … the biggest gossips I know have Y chromosomes. Women may take the prize for viciousness though. Like I said, it’s mainly PEOPLE. – Linda

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    • LOL! Linda, you are too funny! Yes, men are some of the biggest gossips though women usually get that rap and there were many of those in my hometown, but the worse gossips were the older ladies who were past their prime and who weren’t happy at all about that fact and just couldn’t wait to impart some gossip, ANY gossip that was of the malicious type, to all and sundry about the younger folk.

      …and we couldn’t get through funerals without the cops getting called in to break up fights, much less have family reunions because people couldn’t stand one another. Our family got together as little as possible and talk about gossips, the last time I was there, I was so tired of hearing the same shit over and over again, I could have screamed. But believe me, I have finally learned my lesson and intend to steer clear of my old small hometown as like you say, ‘it’s ‘a great place to be from … as far, far from as possible!’ I tell ya, truer words were never ‘typed’. LMAO! Not to mention, we’ve got the tall talebearers in my family too. The way some of ’em tell it, we’re related to Napoleon Bonaparte. I wish I was kidding. Geez!

      Family!!! I gotta stay away from ’em!!

      Thank you so much for your comment Linda. I laughed myself silly over it! What a great contribution!

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      • ” … we couldn’t get through funerals without the cops getting called in to break up fights … ”

        Whoah! You DO have fun relatives. My kinfolk mostly behave at funerals, but possibly only because we never have an open bar. Worst I remember from a funeral is when my maternal grandfather died. Mom’s oldest sister (whom she hadn’t seen for maybe ten years) walked in, put her hands on her hips, and loudly announced, “Well Mary, you’re fat!” Fighting words for sure, and knowing my aunt, totally premeditated. My mother had a slightly longer fuse then — now she’d go straight for her throat, sister or no sister. Family values, ain’t they wonderful. – Linda

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  4. Ah-ha. So you’re related to Napoleon, eh? That could explain your taste for bubbly … not to mention how you got that champagne pipeline through all the EU red tape tout de suite. Why not? – Linda

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    • Linda, the tears are flowing! You are a riot! You see, in my family, we were born addicted to moonshine, white lightning and that was what was in our baby bottles, not milk. LOL! I come from a long line of drinkers. My dad used to tell us that when he first met my mother, she was holding one red and one white and what he meant was that she was at the club holding a glass of white wine in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. She was a gal after his own moonshine sodden heart, she was. LMAO! If mother is reading this, she is fuming and spitting bricks! “Hi mom!” ROTFLMAO!!! I was always one for NOT keeping the family secrets as I’m the blabbermouth of the family and that is why my sisters used to keep me out of the loop. I can’t fucking keep a secret. Oh wait! Would that make me, a GASP!!!!, gossip???! Perish the thought!!! Although, I must admit that there would be no need for me to be dragged to Guantanamo and tortured, in fact, they wouldn’t even have to ask for the information, I’d just automatically get to talking. LOL!

      …and indeed, those were fighting words for sure! If those words had been spoken to anyone in MY family, again, the cops would have been called to the scene. I’ve got family members who’ve been shot by other family members and they’re still walking around, pissed off and vowing vengeance, but still alive to tell about it. I think it must help to be extremely drunk when getting shot. I don’t know, just guessing here.

      HAHAHAHA! My pipeline and lack of red tape!!! Hilarious!! I guess that could explain my loving ALL things liquid and from France. Related to ole Boney! I’ll have to sip some cognac and toast my conquering ancestor, the emperor. And Linda, my pipeline is ‘earth friendly’, ‘free the grape’, and all that!

      Thanks again Linda and I shall continue to ‘distance’ myself from my oh so strange and not so wonderful relatives! We can’t pick ’em, but by golly we can stay away from ’em!

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh Ms. Shelby…ya killed me with this post. Not only am I back in my hometown —one of THOSE towns— I am a week away from moving…back into the house I was raised in. The ol’ homestead built by my…malicious, mean, gossipy great-grandma. Oh, did I mention it’s also next door to the parental units? The house can be seen from a main road so everyone will always know when I’m home and when I have company and of course, the gossipy-guesses as to who the company might be should a strange car dare to park in my driveway.

    S’long as I am stuck in fishbowl, I’ll have fun with it. They wanna gossip? Oh baby, I can make that happen for ’em! Drop a big washtub in the front yard and take a dip every afternoon. Collect cans and make tons of beer-chimes. I can sit outside and pretend to pluck off pigeons with a BBgun. Maybe I’ll take up smokin’ cigars…the possibilities are endless! And of course, I’ll be sure to make LOTS of outrageous statements, mis-info, etc. for them to pass around 😀

    One thing is fer shure…once this whole mess is over and I’ve buried my Dad hubby and I are OUT OF HERE never to look back. I don’t give much of a whit where or how we land; only that I will be an UnKnown person of non-interest to anyone!!!

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    • Reb, I almost don’t even know how to respond to your comment. I don’t know if you know that my dad died in 2001 of cancer and it was extremely hard to witness, so I do know about going back home to take care of and to also know that you will most likely be burying a parent. Words fail me because I remember that video you posted and what a wonderful Christmas all of you had last year.

      You are so strong because you still have such a wonderful attitude and you don’t seem to be sunk down into the depths of despair and pain and even if you are, you don’t let it control you. Unlike me, my dad’s death decimated me because he was the first person that was in my immediate family to die and that just made it too personal. It’s like if it’s aunts and uncles, that’s different. You love them and you’ll miss them but the pain is not so deep as when it is your father or your mother or your siblings. And then when my baby sister died, I was devastated again.

      So, please know that you and your family are in my thoughts. I know that doesn’t mean much but many of us have been there and I still bear the scars from my sister’s recent passing. You take care of yourself too and wherever you wind up, please try to let us know as I missed you when you were gone from the blog world and I see that you’ve still got a bit of the MisBehaved Woman ever brimming under the surface. I love her! Again, take care and thank you for stopping in! Bless your heart!

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      • So sorry about what you went through losing your dad to cancer and for your losing your sister as well. My mom died in my arms after a 2 yr battle with breast cancer; nothing leaves you feeling quite so powerless, does it? I remember apologizing to my mom for not being able to find a magic wand to take her pain away…as if…

        Strong? Bah! I have no memories of the year after my mom passed away whatsoever. It still freaks me out 20 years later. And yes, there’s most definitely a difference in the way loss is felt over close family members. I don’t know if I am fortunate or unfortunate to have lost more than one very-close family member starting at a very early age. I grew up living with my grandparents next door so both of their deaths were almost parental-loss in nature. I’ve been to more damn funerals than I can even count & have filled in once or twice with the local synagogue’s burial society that preps bodies for burial so if nothing else, I know what to expect from it all by now. It helps when the process isn’t so shocking anymore.

        Thanks much for your words of support. It DOES mean a lot, believe it or not. From one hometown outcast to another, surely you know that the kindness of ‘internet friends’ can be a lifeline to sanity!
        WP is a blessing in SO many ways and bloggers like you make it so. Thank you, thank you!

        One final note a bit more on topic to your post – Grieving in a small town…AGH! A whole other drawback to hometown life. For years after my mom died, people would stop me in the grocery store and start almost sobbing over how beautiful my son was and how sad my mom was not here to see him grow up. Okay, HELLO? I just went out for a gallon of milk – not to be slammed into Griefville by some well-meaning but clueless ol’ biddy. Maybe some people like that kind of ‘community support’ but it suffocates me. That pitying look everywhere you go because…everyone KNOWS. Fuck that. That Cheer’s theme song…Where Everybody Knows Your Name…that shit is the background noise to my nightmares lol!!

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    • Dr. Bramhall, long before Edward Snowden exposed the spying by the NSA, I already knew everything we did was being monitored. Years ago when I would answer the phone, the first thing I would say is, “now, take some good damn notes, you spying bastards!” And there were plenty others who knew what was going down. Snowden’s bombshell was too little too late ’cause I could have told him about the spying shits we have. Hell! Black folks got special radar when it comes to the fucked up shit going on in Amerikkka! Don’t a goddamn thing surprise us! I’ve been cussing the motherfuckers out at the NSA for so many years, it ain’t even funny. What the fuck they gonna do to me? Oppress me? Persecute me? Torture me? Haven’t you heard? That’s a Black person’s lot in Amerikkka; to be oppressed, persecuted and tortured and some ‘mo shit! They can fucking kiss my ass, goddamn spying motherfuckers!

      And thank you so much for your comment Dr. Bramhall! Good to see you as always!

      Like

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