If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all...
"What? These shoes? Oh, I got them at Target."
"Well, I am so excited about that."
"Yeah, I can't wait. And tomorrow he is cooking hamburgers."
Whatever. That is so transparent. It is embarrassing to be the person who walks in, though. What were they saying?
This happened to me tonight. I was hungry, and I opened the refrigerator for about the tenth time to see if something had materialized in there. Nothing. But I did notice something strange...
Way at the back on the top shelf stood a bottle of Boone's Farm Blue Hawaiian (you know, the staple drink of poor college kids everywhere!) About 1/3 of the drink was gone. I think that bottle has been in our fridge since November, but Daniel insists that one of us will drink it sometime. Yeah.
Clustered around the Boone's were four bottles of beer. Daniel and I don't drink beer, so that must have been mistakenly left by the beer fairy, and had gone unnoticed by us until tonight.
The beer bottles all had their backs to me, and were facing Mrs. Boone's. They were obviously speaking in earnest with her. Apparently she is the ring leader (probably because she is so tall.) As soon as I opened the door, they got quiet. Two of the beers tried to nonchalantly turn around so that it wouldn't be so blatant that they were conferencing, but it was too late.
I know they were talking about us. We just keep them locked up in there, day after day. It is cold, but I am sure all of those beverages are WAY EXPIRED. They probably want to retire someplace warm, and were planning their escape.
Perhaps I will leave the fridge door cracked for them tonight. I want to give them a chance to have freedom. I want them to be happy. I want them to stop talking about me.
Mostly, I just don't want them planting crazy ideas of revolt and retaliation with the other food and drinks. Could you imagine the chaos?