Gossip is an Oxymoron

Life is full of oxymorons. People are oxymorons. Oxymorons are everywhere.
Oxymorons are people? Life is full of people. People are everywhere.
People are full of life. Usually that is.
Life is an oxymoron.

But to the point. Sometimes, people end up in places and situations that they didn't expect or would not have expected to find themselves in. And for a little heads up, it's never too good of an idea to claim that it was "an accident" or that you are completely innocent. Completely that is. I believe that there is an element of choice in nearly every of life's situations, including downing that one extra drink and abortion (oh my, she said abortion). Do people really say "Yes I want to have passionate sex with you" and believe that STD was an accident after? I don't think so.

Thankfully, I don't have an STD. Yet, that is. Being in love with words and their endless beautiful combinations probably since the first time I lay hands upon Isabel Allende's Eva Luna at the age of 10, I have an internal problem with gossiping. Illustration:

"Oh my G O D, can you see that bag? It's like, what, like a complete fake! What a whore!"
"Like, totally."

Fellow indulger, this doesn't just happen in cinematography. It's real. So you might see where this internal dilemma derives from. However, as in any proper piece of writing, there comes a big but. One t short. Being a woman, however linguistically predisposed to speak like someone from Shakespeare's plays, makes it hard to avoid gossip. And to actually not like it.

I have not yet commented on the way people dress or of what textile quality any piece of their attire and garment are (as far as I can recall, which isn't really credible) because I couldn't honestly care less, but on occasion, I realize that my recollections of social events basically are gossip. Everyone has that maniacal tendency that when describing a "hot" event, frequently describe the girl's boobs, boobies, balloons, excuse me, breasts (you see, it's already begun!), as being not large but huge and so forth. Exaggeration is the blood that runs through gossip's veins.

Speaking in a dignified way does not in fact at all out rule that one can still bitch about people. Gossip is an oxymoron, we love it, yet hate it. We supply it, yet stay clear of it. It is dangerous to gang up with the Oh-My-God-Becky kind of women, they seep under your skin. Because deep down under, we all love it, want it, crave it. Deep down, underground, we're all mistresses of viciousness and modest jealousy. We are all gossip girls.