Can’t make it up. May 23, 2007

So about a half an hour ago I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, doing some work, tending to my f(*#$& allergies, perhaps reading a blog or two (or eleventy thousand) when I got a phone call from my boyfriend. 
 
Boyfriend: Your mom broke her foot, you should call her. She’s leaving the hospital now. 
 
Self: (Thinking: how in the hell does my boyfriend have all of this information) Um, how in the hell do you have all of that information? 
 
Boyfriend: I can’t tell you. 
 
Self: Oh yeah? Really? It’s classified information requiring level five access, Jack Bauer?  
 
Boyfriend: Exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go save the planet from yet another evil minority group intent on blowing us all to smithereens as revenge for that one guy of theirs I tortured a decade ago. Bauer out. 
 
Self: (Confused) 
 
A few moments later, my father called. 
 
Father: Your mother broke her foot. She was wearing her Jessica Simpson shoes. Enough said. 
 
Self: Yeah, I heard actually. 
 
Father: Oh, you spoke with her? 
 
Self: No, I spoke to M. How did M know— 
 
Father: Ohhhkay. Well, gotta go practice some law. Call mom! Love you! Bye! 
 
Self: (Thinking: Huh. Interesting. ) 
 
I called my mother to see how she was doing.
 
Mother: Oh me? I’m fine. I’m fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.  
 
Self: Really? No pain? 
 
Mother: Nope. Not at all. 
 
Self: Mom, you fractured a bone in your foot. How can there possibly be no pain? 
 
Mother: Oh they have me on this stuff…hold on…what’s it called…oh yeah, Vicodin. They have me on Vicodin.  
 
Self: Oh, well that makes sen— 
 
Mother: Oh! OH! And CONGRATULATIONS! We’re so excited! 
 
Aaaaaand thanks to Vicodin combined with my mother’s big mouth, I now know that M knew about my mother’s foot because M called my father earlier today because M has apparently bought a diamond and wants to go with my parents to get it set at their private jeweler and he apparently asked for their blessing and they’re just so happy and excited and life is all sunshine and sausages. 
 
Mother: Wait, you’re not going to tell M that I told you, right? I don’t want him to think his future mother-in-law can’t keep a secret.  
 
Unreal. Still processing the fact that this all actually happening and I now know about something that I really didn’t want to know about. More tomorrow.