A Perks Moment

Saturday morning I had to get a haircut. I was in Ogden, and stopped at the first cheap place I saw. It just happened to be a beauty parlor (what was I thinking?). The group of women there were extremely friendly, and got right to cutting my hair.

The beautician and I had the regular conversation, "Where are you from?" "How long have you worked here?" "Any plans for this weekend?" "Oh, the Army! That's so cool. Have you been over there yet?" After a few minutes I went silent again.

Several of the women were having a conversation about Brad. They were talking about how terrible the divorce was, and what would happen to his wife's children that he had adopted, etc., etc., etc. I just assumed that Brad was some guy that they all knew. Then they started ragging on his wife. Talking about what a whore she is, and how she really should stop getting all of that awful plastic surgery. Then they went from Brad and his marital problems to Prince Charles and Camilla and Prince Charles children.

Then I saw the People magazine. And it finally struck me. I was rather dumbfounded. How could I have been so stupid? Brad and his wife were, of course... duh blueshorts... Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Suddenly I felt betrayed. I don't know why I expected anything from these women, I didn't even know them before saturday morning. But while I thought I was hearing them discuss someone that they actually knew, they'd been talking celebrity gossip. Then I started to get angry. I've never really had much sympathy for celebrities and their fight for privacy; I've usually tended to keep up on all of the celebrity gossip, and even watch a little Extra every once in a while. But this just left a bad taste in my mouth. Who cared what the beauty shop ladies thought about some celebrities that lived hundreds or thousands of miles from them that they had most likely never even met? What gave them the right to pass judgement on these people? I dare to venture that if Angelina Jolie had walked into that beauty shop in Ogden on Saturday morning, the women would not have told her what they had been telling each other. I seriously doubt that they would have informed her that she was a whore, and needed to stop with the surgeries already.

Why do people gossip? Why do I gossip? What right do I have to talk bad about people that I don't even know? Or people that I do know for that matter? I need to be nicer to people; give them more of the benefit of the doubt. In the words of Wiggle, "You don't know me." So, I'll try and stop passing so many judgements, and start being more responsible for my words, even if the people do live two states away, and will never know what I said about them.