little miss popularity

So I think I may have mentioned the PTA once or twice in previous postings.

I think I may also have mentioned that I'm a joiner.

When my son hit kindergarten, I joined the PTA. At first that was difficult. I had a hard time figuring out when the meetings were being held. I'd look at the marquee in front of the school for signs and signals...I'd watch for the monthly school calendars that never seemed to come home with my son...It was a mystery to me when these super secret meetings were being held. Sure, I'd made it to the very first meeting of the school year, and I also made it to the Back to School Night meeting. I even paid my membership dues. But the actual meetings escaped my notice entirely.

Don't let this awe you too terribly much. As a child, I had significant issues finding the Dr. Demento show on the radio and I don't believe I was ever successful. Later on I couldn't figure out what day of the week Saturday Night Live was televised. Hard to believe I have a master's degree, isn't it? (aha! but you see, the university was large and therefore easy to find!)

Nevertheless, I finally stumbled my way into a meeting on the second Thursday of whatever month I finally figured it out and I've been a faithful PTA hanger-on ever since.

And apparently the PTA is lacking in sheep because I very quickly found myself heading up the food for the annual school fair and then as quickly found myself secretary of the PTA.

So this year I go to my PTA meetings (the second Thursday of every month except for one month when the president had to drop her son off to college in another state and that month had paltry attendance) regularly and take notes on what everybody says. Except for those politically incorrect items that the president tries to encourage me to write.

For example, last month, we were being given more information about the principal's colonoscopy, prostate biopsy and apparent abscess than I personally want to know, and she leaned over and whispered, "Write that we talked about Jim's ass." This led to a completely inappropriate guffaw on my part followed by a quick hand slapped over my mouth. And you know, poor Jim, we're all picturing his rectum now, you know? I mean, imagine the indignity of it all! There he'll be next year, trying to preside over us--and we generally tend to border on inappropriate when we don't jump right into the abyss of politically incorrect sexual harassment--and I, for one, will definitely be picturing his ass. And right after that I'll imagine him smoking out because he and I went to the same college (which is really a coincidence since it's definitely not local to where we live) and everybody there smokes out (ok kz, not everybody, but almost everybody else did).

But I digress.

Anyway, so this year I'm the secretary and I listen to the president, who really is quite funny and very intelligent and doesn't really seem to care that she wades right into the quagmire of impropriety in her story-telling, which is probably why I find her so amusing. And it turns out that the people who bought the house next door to me when the old lady died two years ago know her quite well. In fact, she has brought them up several times even though I frankly have not found them to be particularly friendly...Or, at least, I had not a few weeks ago...But anyway, a while before that she confided that she really really really really dislikes the fiancee, but loves the fiance. And she talks about it quite freely and frequently to me and I mostly try to smile and say things like, "I really don't see them very often, they are quite busy."

And then a few weeks ago it was spring break, and it was Friday evening, and all the neighbors who were on spring break were out in the front yard and the new neighbors came over and pretty soon we were (well, mostly me because I'm the smallest of them all and they can all apparently drink me into the gutter) a little bit loaded and the new neighbor mentioned how the PTA president doesn't like her and I was vulnerable man! I couldn't respond, I just mostly gaped at her like, well, like I'm not sure what. My husband mentioned deers in headlights later, and both of the other female neighbors gave me consoling pats on my arm and told me they tried to send me warning looks.

I did not confirm the dislike. I absolutely, positively, did not say anything out loud to confirm that the president of the PTA does not like the fiancee living next door to me.

But I also did not deny it. I think what I said was, "We're working on her."

Which I suppose kind of confirms it in a roundabout way, doesn't it?

So in that moment, I gave up the vice presidency for next year. I've also been drinking less alcohol since then.

whew.

So anyway, at the next PTA meeting (where we talked about Jim's ass--see? Now you're picturing it too, aren't you?), I had to confess and I figured, "Well, that's it, I'm out. No longer in with the in crowd."

I know, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. But you don't know the president. She is also the registrar for soccer. And tee ball. And she has something or other to do with baseball. She has her fingers in almost every single pot in this little town. She is powerful. And I also like her because she's pretty darn funny. So I was disappointed in my lack of discretion.

She didn't say much, but did mention it to the VP, who is definitely her best friend ever and generally believed by most people I know to be just about the nicest person living in this city. And they both have sons the same age as mine and of course, they got the good first grade teacher this year (see previous post). So even though she didn't appear to be particulary angry about it, I figured I'd pretty much sewn up ostracism.

So the next week was PTA convention. I didn't go. No point. I keep the lowly secretary position next year instead of moving into the VP for the current VP who will be president next year. The day it began, I saw the vice president with the president's son in her car, obviously picking him up from school for her friend. Who is no longer my friend, obviously, since I blew it for her.

The next evening, the phone rang and when I picked it up, it was the PTA president asking me if I'd seen her son, he'd been picked up from school the previous day, etc., etc. At first I panicked and got a little freaked out. Oh my God, has her son been kidnapped?

Then I realized.

I'm popular! She likes me anyway and she's calling me from the PTA convention! She was joking of course, because I'd make a remark to the VP when I saw the wrong child in her car. She even called the fiance to get my number--who told her he doesn't have my number, when he wants to talk to me he yells over the wall--and somehow she got my number and I got the drunk phone call!

I'm in with The In Crowd.

That's right.

Little Miss Popularity.

That's why I'm a joiner.