No Filter

Like me, you might have fond memories of an elderly neighbour who was completely off their rockers. Ones that would yell at you to get off their lawns, or little old ladies who would scream at you in the supermarket isles. Your elderly Aunty who would tell you how much weight you have put on since last Christmas, or that you look haggard.

They have no filters. Thoughts would brew in their brain and spew out their mouths without any consideration for consequences.

I am turning into one of these creatures.

I always thought of myself as quite a tactful human, one who was able to think before they speak, but a few recent exchanges I have been involved with recently leads me to believe that I have lost my way.

Take yesterday. I was lined up at a cafe, about to put my order in when I became slightly irritated by the music being played. It was Michael Jackson’s “I’ll be there.” which would not have been offensive at all but it was a tubular bells version of it. Enter, the old lady no filter….

“Do they make you listen to this dreadful music?” I asked the barista. The barista was smiley and perky so I knew the coffee would be dreadful.

“101 Tubular Bells is the best music ever!” He beamed “Customers always ask me where they can buy it…”

And before I could even comprehend a considered response, my words blurted out the following…

“I am pretty sure that you are safe from a sale from me.”

Excuse me Mrs Woog, you rude cow! I don’t know what overcame me. I am blaming my ageing brain.

Which brings me to something dreadful I did a few weeks ago and I think enough time has passed for me to tell you what happened.

I was at an event which was made up of magazine ladies and website publishers. So there was a lot of small chit-chat talk happening. I was standing with a very chic chick and so I asked her..

“Where do you work?”

She replied that she worked for the magazine New Idea. And before I could even think about it… “I cannot stand that magazine!” mainly because I cannot stand that magazine. My outburst was not met well.

New Idea lady looked at me with nothing but hatred, and I do not blame her one little bit. She seemed to grow to about six feet tall, her eyes narrowed while her nostrils flared. I felt like I wanted to vomit a bit. The magazine industry in Australia is very small and one day my blog might die and I will be knocking on the door of places like New Idea, begging for work scraps. I had well and truly fucked up.

“So then,” New Idea lady snarled at me, “Where exactly do YOU work?”

I took a deep breath, looked her in the eye and whimpered my answer.

“Mamamia”

God forgive me for I have sinned. I apologise to all the hard-working writers at Mamamia and Mia herself. It turns out that I have no filter.

Do you find as you age, that your filter needs cleaning?