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I ventured up into the outer reaches of suburbia today for a follow-up appointment (screwed up my jaw in a wreck several years back - got some implant screws placed recently, and shits progressing well now). It was still before 10 when I finished up my appointment, and I planned on visiting a couple shops before heading back to the pen. First on the list: A coffee shop I'd heard good things about. I'm a sucker for a good espresso, and this place reportedly serves it up in an actual ceramic cup like its suppose to be served.

So I find the place, head in, order a Danish and an espresso and go sit in the corner. There's a table of 5 women seated not too far away - they all look to be older than me. Late 60s. Maybe some 70s. Place isn't tiny, but they're still well within earshot. They're sitting and sipping coffee, a couple are munching on stuff and they're chatting. I pay them no mind - I'm enjoying a great espresso, and the cherry danish is ok. Nice little treat I think. My head is clear - not much on the Duck's mind this AM. Then I kind of notice its one of the women that's doing all of the talking. Except its more of a rant - lots of complaining.

I'm trying not to listen, but I didn't bring my tablet with me and there's no reading material nearby. I focus on my danish, but then its gone. It is then that I hear that woman start complaining about her giblets - shit ain't right with her fucking uterus. Holy shit - I can't believe it. She's yacking about it in a public place using definitely NOT an inside voice. I glance up briefly - the two women facing my way look like they're trapped. One sees me looking their way and immediately averts her eyes - she then starts to suppress a grin. I glance back to my espresso, shoot it down the hatch and decide its Duck-Out time.

I get up, bus my plate, cup and silverware back to the counter, thank them for a lovely espresso and head to the door. As fate would have it, the gaggle was seated right by the door with Ms. Giblets seated nearest the door with her back to me. I pulled open the door, tapped the woman on the shoulder lightly and when she paused and turned toward me I said:

"I do hope your uterus is feeling better today".

The woman I exchanged the glance with immediately exploded with laughter, and I promptly got the fuck out of there.

I ventured up into the outer reaches of suburbia today for a follow-up appointment (screwed up my jaw in a wreck several years back - got some implant screws placed recently, and shits progressing well now). It was still before 10 when I finished up my appointment, and I planned on visiting a couple shops before heading back to the pen. First on the list: A coffee shop I'd heard good things about. I'm a sucker for a good espresso, and this place reportedly serves it up in an actual ceramic cup like its suppose to be served. So I find the place, head in, order a Danish and an espresso and go sit in the corner. There's a table of 5 women seated not too far away - they all look to be older than me. Late 60s. Maybe some 70s. Place isn't tiny, but they're still well within earshot. They're sitting and sipping coffee, a couple are munching on stuff and they're chatting. I pay them no mind - I'm enjoying a great espresso, and the cherry danish is ok. Nice little treat I think. My head is clear - not much on the Duck's mind this AM. Then I kind of notice its one of the women that's doing all of the talking. Except its more of a rant - lots of complaining. I'm trying not to listen, but I didn't bring my tablet with me and there's no reading material nearby. I focus on my danish, but then its gone. It is then that I hear that woman start complaining about her giblets - shit ain't right with her fucking uterus. Holy shit - I can't believe it. She's yacking about it in a public place using definitely NOT an inside voice. I glance up briefly - the two women facing my way look like they're trapped. One sees me looking their way and immediately averts her eyes - she then starts to suppress a grin. I glance back to my espresso, shoot it down the hatch and decide its Duck-Out time. I get up, bus my plate, cup and silverware back to the counter, thank them for a lovely espresso and head to the door. As fate would have it, the gaggle was seated right by the door with Ms. Giblets seated nearest the door with her back to me. I pulled open the door, tapped the woman on the shoulder lightly and when she paused and turned toward me I said: "I do hope your uterus is feeling better today". The woman I exchanged the glance with immediately exploded with laughter, and I promptly got the fuck out of there.
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[–] • 3 pts

I understand the pain. But I'll do you one "better." I have to drive my grandmother around, and she goes out to lunch once a week with her old gal pals so I get dragged along and have to sit there. Don't have the extra money for the gas to go literally anywhere else, and I usually get food out of the deal.

But holy fuck, do old ladies not have a filter or any semblance of not oversharing. They talk about the most nauseating of bodily functions like it's nothing and then laugh about it. Or they love to shit talk men and so on. Mind you, they're all in their late 60's early 70's.

Fuck, last week they just started talking about circumcision and how it should be free and mandatory and blah blah blah. None of them are jewish, they just talk about random disgusting things like that at the drop of a hat. Or compare their aches and pains and try to one up each other. And because they all are apparently hard of hearing, they talk loudly. And yet, they're all smiles as they talk about this kinda stuff. It's horrible to sit through.

Despite all they talk about, they'll always complain about young people not having any "Propriety" when they're talking about things best kept to a very very private setting.

I think it's just the womanly instinct to get the attention on them by being loud and disgusting, while also using the excuse of "I'm a little old lady" to get out of the consequences.