what was that?

Sometimes I mishear things. I think this is similar to my perpetual tendency to misread things. For instance, I have the horrible habit of reading something rather quickly and believing wholeheartedly that it says one thing when, in fact, it says something completely different. Sometimes this is problematic, but that's material for a completely separate blog entry. It makes sense that this would happen, given those theories that we really don't even need words to be spelled correctly or have letters in the proper placement in order to assign meaning to whatever it is we are reading. Our minds recognize patterns, fill in the blanks, etc. etc. I've taken those little "tests". I get it.

Sometimes it's really funny when you mishear things. Like recently when I was sure that my friend had said, "Who else wants to blame Ball if I have a tumor?" To which I raised my hand and said, "I'll blame Ball for your tumor, hahaha." [To be clear, my friend does not have a tumor AND she encouraged me to go ahead and publish this post, all political incorrectness aside . . .] Ball is a colleague. Sometimes I'm certain that he's a little too perfect. It's about time he was responsible for something horrible and awful and catastrophic. Like a tumor. My friend looked at me and burst out laughing, "not BLAME BALL, Christen, GO BALD." Ahhhh. Yes. I quickly informed her that I would not go bald because, let's face it, I'm much too vain to try to pull that look off successfully, but I would totally wear a pin that says, "I blame Ball." Which, for someone who doesn't wear pins EVER, is saying a lot. I kid, it is with the utmost affection that I would blame Ball. It is also with the utmost respect and envy that I joke at Ball's expense. He's a kind, considerate, hardworking attorney who has not yet lost his enthusiasm to change the world. God, I hate him. KIDDING.

Really, it just makes me bitter to think that I used to be like that. And, now, well . . . I'm not. I'm something completely different. Worn, tired, and altogether disenchanted. That's Ball's fault, too. I'm sure of it. In the interim, I console myself with the notion that Ball will get to this glorious stage of embitterment, too. Only time will tell. For now, I'll just blame Ball. For EVERYTHING. Works for me.