Shh! You've Got Mail

Hot Tip From Auntie Shan!

For all the well intentioned friends out there who want to warn their pals that they're close to an unpleasant, embarrassing, and emotionally scarring 'Oops' situation without hurting their feelings, this one's for you. Everyone, at least once, has sat across from someone at a restaurant who's talking and talking, ad nauseum. However, you cannot pay attention to what they're saying, not because they're boring, but b/c there is unidentified shit stuck in their teeth. And of course the story they're telling is epic because you'd be less tormented if you could interrupt a quick anecdote but that's just not the way your life goes. You have to wait for a pause during their recitation of The Odyssey.

To tell or not to tell...Situations like this one pop up all the time. Common warnings usually attempt a stab at humor to lighten the news. For instance, to someone who's got a clearly visible, errant booger, you might say, "You've got a bat in the cave." (My Mom hates that one.) How about the person who has failed to lick their lips or wipe their face clean after a meal? In this case, I like to go with the traditional, "Dude, you've got some food riiiiiight there," while I mime strategic gestures until they remove the schmutz.

Give this a try. "You've got mail." Revolutionary, isn't it? It's sweet and funny. It's a flattering allusion to good old days when aol's creepy Jane Doe web voice informed you that someone had sent you some wireless love. "You've got mail" is the Hallmark card of bad news. Next time your boyfriend or girlfriend is wearing, not eating, their ice cream, pipe up and tell 'em, "Hey, you've got mail."

"You've got mail" may even be useful in the worst notification confrontation mankind has encountered: the period stain, leaking Auntie Flow. Double Whammy! Show me someone who can effortlessly approach the menstruater in question, and acknowledge that her dam broke. The world's most accomplished gynecologist with the best bedside manner imaginable couldn't do it right. No matter what anyone says or how they say it, she'll be mortified. Damned if you do, dammed if you don't. So JUST DO IT! Honest to God, let her know. In a low whisper, tell her, "Sweetheart, you've got mail." Then duck.

I've got a backstory regarding the alternative, not telling. And it wasn't even my period! I'd stayed over at a friend's house and borrowed a pair of jogging pants to wear to bed. They were so comfortable that I couldn't stop singing their praise all morning. Finally, my friend said that since I liked them so much I could have them. "Are you sure?" I said. Generosity of any kind raised my suspicion. No one gives away good shit. And I should have listened to my gut because when I got home and sat down to pee, I noticed the huge period stain on the ass of the jogging pants! I'd ridden the subway in those pants! I'd transfered trains in those pants! I greeted my ancient Greek landlords in those pants! God dammit! I grabbed the phone and frantically punched my dastardly devious friend's number. She wasn't able to utter so much as Hello before I screamed, "Bitch! You bitch!" She just laughed and laughed, put her phone down, told her roommate the good news, then they laughed together.

But I'm a big girl now, and I am working on not taking myself too seriously. So, I do laugh at things like this years later. And I still have those pants. As a tribute to my walk of shame, they no longer have the slightest trace of a scarlet mark. I am free to transfer trains without a second thought.