There you are in the grocery store, telling your best friend about how that Bat Rastard Has Broken Your Heart For The Last Time. You get so involved in the story that you end up in front of the spaghetti sauce for, oh, say, ten minutes.

You notice that a few feet away there's a tall, white-haired middle-aged woman intently studying all the pasta. She's been studying it for, oh, say, ten minutes.

Coincidence?

Sadly, no. That white-haired woman would be me.

Hello, my name is Marn and I'm an eavesdropaholic.

It began in my childhood. In the 1950's You Sheltered The Children, so to keep me from eavesdropping my parents at first used the brilliant ruse of Pig Latin. That involved taking the first consonant from a word, tacking it on the end of the word and adding the "ay" sound to it. Thus, Pig Latin becomes ig-Pay atin-Lay in Pig Latin.

As far as my parents were concerned, that was Enigma level coding. It probably would have kept me in ignorance of their conversations into my late teens except that my babysitter heard my parents talking and Gave Me The Code. Being young and foolish I somehow let it drop that I spoke fluent Pig Latin which forced the parents to move on to spelling.

You want kids who can spell? Take it from me, you just start spelling things You Do Not Want Them To Know.

(And, of course, to rebel against how I had been raised I was far more open with my daughter. The payback for that occurred when she was about three or so, grabbed an empty toilet paper roll and positioned it against the crotch of her tiny wee overalls, announcing to her grandparents that This Is How You Put A Tampon In. Oh, yes, A True Kodak Moment.)

Why is it that the earth never opens up and swallows you whole when you want it to?

As you have probably guessed, I try to be subtle about the eavesdropping but sometimes it's hard. There are times when I'm sitting in a restaurant eavesdropping on a conversation and I really, really, really want to turn around and tell someone, "WHAT, are you loopy on glue fumes or something? OF COURSE you're going to kick his sorry butt out into the snow for that."

But I don't.

Yet.

(I figure that about 20 years from now my Eccentric Old Lady License becomes valid and I'll be able to say pretty much anything I want. My Eccentric Middle-Aged Lady License, sadly, comes with restrictions regarding What I Can Say To Complete Strangers.)

Cellphones for me are like bread from heaven. People go walking down the street, stand in stores, ride public transit, heck even use public restrooms and have the most intimate conversations imaginable. And They Do It In Really Loud, Clear Voices because hey, they're on a phone and reception might not be good.

Oh bliss, oh thrills and a couple of raptures.

My Golden Moment of Cellphone Eavesdropping was a wonderfully bitter and vituperative break-up being conducted by a young woman sitting one seat behind me on a Montreal city bus.

Oh yeah, she was dumping her boyfriend via phone while she was on public transit. As the conversation wore on, she was getting more and more personal about how badly the young man had treated her, more and more personal about his many flaws.

As my three loyal readers know, there is cursing and there is cursing. This woman was producing inventive, fluid, complex strings of expletives that were veritable arias. We're talking a Puccini of Profanity.

I just knew she was ratcheting up towards a final delineation of her ex's sexual inadequacies (and oh, don't think I wasn't practically holding my breath waiting for THAT d�nouement)

AND SHE GOT OFF THE FREAKING BUS!

Sadly, I am profoundly directionally impaired. Otherwise, I sweartogawd I would have gotten off the bus with her just to get those last juicy details.

Oh be quiet.

On second thought, don't be quiet. After all, if everyone was quiet, who would I eavesdrop on?

--Marn

Otherwise, they are remarkably alike.

Celebrate the notion that we should all have one day in our lives when we are free to celebrate a jolt of spontaneous happiness.

Post a button or post a link to the cavorting site and become enshrined! See yourself right up there on the screen!

Make a rubbing of your name!

Oh. Wait. Maybe that last bit wouldn't work. Nevermind that part, 'kay?

Today's inductees into the Hall of Fame are:

The first ten cavorters who entered the Hall of Fame I have dubbed The Mothers And Fathers of Cavorting. Don't worry, this does not involve messy blood tests, paternity cases OR child support. However, each time I update, I will feature one of them.

And now, can I have a drum-roll, please, for Today's Cavorting 'Rental Unit: