I sight this little pesky, sharp-toothed beast everywhere.
Its pathetic little whines and snorts fill the air with cries of “I just don’t care about anything anymore but I’m not sad… could it be depression?” and noxious whimpering about too much/too little, weight issues, too much good fortune (yes, people whine about that too), too little to worry about, too happy, too bored, not bored enough. Don’t get me wrong– true depression is serious. But…. this is Attention Hog pulling a possum.
I remember the last time I was a Whinus horribilis myself.
I literally– and I use literally because it’s hard to believe what I’m about to confess– SPENT AN ENTIRE DAY CRYING.
I tried to pass it off as being bummed because my grandfather had died that winter, 13 years before.
The true reason why I was crying? Because the boy I had a humongous crush at the time had a girlfriend and I wasn’t getting enough of his attention.
Oh, be shocked and be appalled that I carried on for as long as I did. Or please laugh. But the inimitable cries of the Attention Hog are nasty and echoic, and they FORCE you to listen. And so I got loads of attention that day.
Whenever I feel smug about something, all I have to do is remember that day long ago and cringe with horror. To think that I ensnared that much pity and attention for completely selfish reasons….. and that was it! Nothing else. I just hogged it. I even sobbed loudly. Pretty damned embarrassing.
Somehow writing about it makes it less so. Which is nice. I just hope no one at my old high school (apart from a certain someone who HOPEFULLY does not remember any of this) reads or … *cringe*…. remembers.
So back to my own Attention Hogettes:
One claims despondence and unwillingness to get excited about anything. Methinks someone’s been reading DSM-IV a tad overmuch. Or perhaps someone’s been watching Lifetime’s Movie of the Week too many times –wherein a heroine played boldly by some C-list actress confronts inner demons with poise and strength; then shows us her bra or even her boobs; has a breakthrough moment; cries uglily; and finally overcomes and succeeds because SHE. IS. A. STRONG. WOMAN.
The other has been telling us that she’s ready to pop a mammoth kid out any minute, who is measuring about six weeks ahead of schedule (*gasp* Will fatass make it to the end of October? Stay tuned!). Mind you… she’s been saying she’ll pop at any minute for two weeks running, but the end of the last week saw the official announcement. Now as it turns out, she isn’t carrying Godzilla but is instead full of fluid and only 1 cm dilated.
Yes, I know. Riveting.
But somehow, someone thinks so. Somehow, someone always thinks so.
Somehow, someone thinks that my retelling of these girls’ asinine plights is also worth a read, which is amazing in itself, but hell…. I’m not gonna jinx it. I am grateful you all who stop by do stop by and read my ranting. And to be fair and honest, we all have an Attention Hog living inside us and it needs attention. And it’s okay: sometimes we ALL need a little attention and, in the immortal words of Michael Bolton, a little “Time, Love and Tenderness.” I confess…. I used to loooooove that song. I am not ashamed of my Top 40 likes here.
It’s just that sometimes that little need and that little Attention Hog conspire and it becomes an infestation. And as self-appointed Attention Hog specialist (takes one to know one) I have made it my personal crusade to expose them.
You know you KNOW an Attention Hog. Chances are that other people are dying to say something too. Make your voice heard: expose them for the filthy whiners they are. And DO NOT GIVE THEM ATTENTION! It only encourages them.
Aside to Mr. Me: go ahead. Tell me I’m a hypocrite this week too :oP Bring it! (Attention hog!)
UPDATE: A charming and alert reader, Madame Nutz, has enlightened me to the delicious possibility that “Attention Ho” sounds a heck of a lot funnier and better. So! Attention Ho it is!!!!