I realize I run the risk of sounding like an elitist prig, but I'm really not. After all I was running on the treadmill at the gym today watching TNT's Judging Amy; nothing snooty about that right? Mr. Clean was walking on the 'mill next to mine.
The scene: 30-something Amy has moved out of her mother's house, living in a New Haven ghetto apartment; she has invited a new beau over for wine and dinner.
Septegenarian-Pilgarlic-Harley-Dude (aka Mr. Clean): Didn't they just make love? Why did she put her dress back on if they made love? She should be in a slip or something, right?
ME: Uh, I don't know, think they just had some wine. And the room is really pretty dark...[my voice trails off]
SPHD: I'm mad! She should be like in a slip or somethin' if they just made love.
ME: [silence--my inside thoughts are: "what can I possibly say back to this guy? this is absurd!"]
SPHD: Does she [Judge Amy] like girls? I think she's a female homo.
ME: [stepping out of myself, thinking "am I really having this conversation? If so, where's the transition from his earlier inquires to this crazy notion?!"] Uh, I don't think so. And even if she were, I don't really mind.
The straight Amy dumps her judge-beau who won't go to Spain with her...She sheds a few tears, sniffling--as crying folk are wont to do...
SPHD: Oh, Amy, stop your sniveling! [sic]
The rest of the dialogue was so inane, I cannot waste your time... But according to Mr. Clean, Amy's brother was gay (because he was cute); and her CSO was good-looking guy who "didn't talk like a black guy."
This, my friends, sums up the petty, innocuous, vapid conversations occurring daily in this free nation of ours...
