Welcome to June's Secret Subject Swap - my walls are talking

Welcome to June’s Secret Subject Swap. Again 16 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  
Sit back, grab a cup - for today's sake make it a cocktail or some sparkling wine - and check them all out:

My subject is 

It's mere minutes before the big party you've been planning for months at your house - all your friends, family, co-workers and neighbors will be there. Your walls actually begin to talk. Quickly you realize they are blabbermouths. These walls that have housed you, sheltered you from storms, seen you at your best, worst and intimate moments. What is the one thing you hope they keep quiet, or how do you shut them up?

It was submitted by Sparkly Poetic Werido - thank you!

So this is not "if those walls could talk" - this is "your walls will spill". It had to happen at some point in my life. Why not now that everything is in place for the party? This should be interesting.

Just what exactly are they going to say? 

That our house isn't usually as organized and clean as it looks today? Shocking! 

That in this house we don't shower and like to hang out in our PJs on some Sundays? What a bunch of slackers! 

That the lady of this house likes to eat Nutella straight from the jar? She's not to be judged, though. Unless you are willing to spring for a plane ticket to NYC or Chicago every time she gets a craving!

Eataly Nutella Bar
Now if these walls could talk!
My conscious is clear. There are no skeletons in our closets, no secret lovers sneaking in an out, no drugs incorporated into my lasagna sheets - although I think I might me on to something here!

You walls go ahead and talk. Let the party begin! 

Our next door neighbors are here first. 
You the Garden Gnomes, the Chatterboxes or the Wolfskins?
"What's that?"
"Oh, that's our living room wall. It talks, don't mind it. It was admiring your jacket. Would you like a beer?"
We call them the Wolfskins because they like to spend time outdoors as soon as temperatures exceed 50°F.  Jack Wolfskin is the German equivalent of North Face. And they originally are from Germany, enough said. Nice people. 

The Garden Gnomes would be other neighbors. They don't just like to spend time outside, they garden as a hobby. Roses and stuff. When we knew we were going to have a baby, we worried that this baby of ours would eventually become a kid who is running around, playing ball and ruining those flowers. But walls, you should really pay more attention. The garden gnomes emigrated to Australia shortly before C was actually born. The new house owners, who would end up having three kids, steamrolled that flower garden! It's now flagstones and lawn = soccer field for the youngsters, ours included. 

Before                                After
Oh, and the Chatterboxes? We didn't invite them, but they show up anyway. Typical. They are transborders. I am not worried about the walls repeating anything to them. The chatterboxes talk, they don't listen. There is an expression in German "jemanden an die Wand schwatzen" it means to literally outtalk someone until they're with their back to the wall. That's what they do. They don't keep their social distance when they talk to you. They invade your body space. Like uncomfortably close. (Only one thing is worse than that: the limp fish handshake!) You react by taking a step back, which of course forces them to come closer again. The wall is the limit. Hi there, wall! Meet the Chatterboxes firsthand! 

The bell rings. Our coworkers walk in.
Don't even think about smoking in here, stinker! Disgusting!
The guy in question doesn't even notice it wasn't me who said that. "Wasn't planning on it, chill, mother!"

A friend whom I haven't seen in years arrives with her two kids, 6 and 3.
You really should think twice before lending her your stuff!
Oohps! She gave me her baby rocking chair when Colin was, well, a baby, and her boy was already crawling or walking - anything that made the chair redundant.

She had made it clear that she was planning on having a second child and that she would need that rocker back. Then we lost touch. Another friend came by our house one day to have a look at the stroller, the travel cot, safety gates, baby clothes and more. She discovered the rocking chair, too and wanted it. I thought "WTH, I have never heard back" and gave her everything she wanted.
Are you aware that she had to purchase it back?
Yes, out of the blue, she texted me one day. She just had a baby girl and wanted the come and get the rocker on Thursday. Sh**! I frantically called the other friend, who in the meantime had passed on that rocker to her sister in law. Guess what, I had to drive there and pay good money for the #@/&%*! rocking chair! I even washed the cover. Guess more, come Thursday, I get another text "sorry, can't make it today. Will be in touch." Well, not until today!!! 

My aunts are here and hand me a gift.
Don't bother! If that ungrateful bitch doesn't like it, she'll either throw it out or regift it!
True. When people ask "what can I bring?" I say "a chocolate cake", "a bottle of wine matching (insert planned meal) or "nothing". And nothing means nothing, it's perfectly fine to come by and not bring flowers or a dust trap. So, yes, I happened to give things to someone I knew would be thrilled to have them. 

The house is getting full, more and more guests are pouring in, mingling, drinking, nibbling. 

My high school friend / maid of honor is here with her family.
Better check that expiration date!
Hahaha, don't remind me, that was so embarrassing! Back when hubby and I were living the DINK life, we bumped into them when we went out for a stroll on a sunny Sunday afternoon. (Ha! It's not always that we don't bother to get into real clothes on a day off!) 
So we invited them over for coffee. I even had cake, but it contained nuts, and they didn't want to give it to their toddlers. I ransacked the cabinet and proudly produced a bag of cookies. The kids started munching on it until the girl said "Daddy, what's that?" Between her tiny fingers she held an ugly white maggot looking thing. Actually she was having a hard time holding it because it was wiggling! Upon inspection of the cookies, there were more of them! Eeeewwww! 

"Mommy, two policemen are at the door!" C looks intimidated. "What do they want? You didn't invite cops to the party, did you?"
Who accused your husband of bank robbery this time?
Just the other week he got a letter from the state police, inviting him to a chat. Actually I think this document qualified as subpoena. It mentioned an incident that took place on a specific day at a local bank. Of course he got worried. He never frequents that part of town, plus he was at work then. Just nobody could vouch for it cause it was a Saturday.
As soon as he walked into that detective's office, the cop took a quick look at him and said "sorry to have wasted your time. It wasn't you. Have a nice day."
Obviously they had been processing surveillance camera footage, and somehow hubby's name came up, they couldn't quite explain that part. They did have to follow up on every "suspect" though.

My former gyno and his wife made it to the party, too. (Who invites their private parts doc? She who needs a true, funny story to integrate into her blog!)
Did you bring a sign that says "doctor's seating only?"
Gee, have the walls from my old place been talking to you guys? How come you know about this otherwise?
My old place was in another state and another lifetime for that matter. I had moved there for work love and didn't know a soul apart from my then-boyfriend and a couple of coworkers. When that time of the year came up, I asked around within my female coworkers and made an appointment with that "nice and gentle gynecologist" they were gushing over.
The new doc came to greet me at the waiting room. What a gentleman! "Go right ahead" he told me as he opened the door to his office, "take a seat at my desk first." Sure, first we talk, then I undress. So far so good. I walked AROUND his desk and took a seat on HIS leather swivel chair. The moment I looked up, it hit me: wrong side of the desk! Wrong chair! All wrong! He was very cool about it. "That's OK. We'll do it a bit differently today. You get to ask the questions!" 
To defend myself, I worked in HR for a long time. I don't know how many thousands of interviews I have conducted. Didn't I kind of earn that seat? Plus, how hard are those gyno questions anyway: Last period? Any trouble? Pill working out OK? Baby plans? Any lumps in your boobs? Well, then, get naked!

A couple of elementary school mates join.
See that justice is done here!
The walls are connected! I am a bit worried now. Should I address them as Don Murale? Boss of all walls? Now they know stuff that happend when I was living at my parent's house!

I was probably 9 or 10 years old. A mean boy had taken my girlfriend's bracelet and thrown it down a manhole. Then he laughed hysterically and ran away. She was very shy and didn't know what to do. I, however, felt called to do something about it. I couldn't confront him face to face because he was taller and stronger, plus he had a knife. Right - that's the kind of classmates we had, lovely! So I wrote a letter. Yeah, l was quite the little writer early on!
It said something like this:

Dear Mrs F,
Your son M thought it was a good idea to… (insert the whole lengthy story).
Now may I kindly ask you to see that things will be put straight!
(insert illegible signature I had been practicing)

I put the letter in an envelope and left it in their mailbox. 

It didn't take long, and Mrs F called my mother. She apologized on behalf of her son and assured her that the boy's father would open that manhole and get the bracelet out. Of course my mom didn't know what she was talking about. Mrs F said "What you've told me in that letter!" Mom made her read it to her and laughed and laughed. "That wasn't me, that was my daughter!" Now Mrs F got mad "way to tell other people to do the right thing but to deny having written a letter yourself! I know how kids in elementary school write. Your daughter did not write this! No kid has such neat handwriting either!"
PS: M rang my girlfriend's door bell that night, mumbled sorry and handed her the bracelet.

Now that was a nice party! Most of the guests are gone, and I start cleaning up and loading the dishwasher. My mom wants to help, when those walls go again...
You are so wasting your time!

PS: This one just got in before publishing, and I thought I'd share it with you guys...
Remember my esteemed coworker who likes 
hot, spicy food? The one who tricked me into eating Mongolian fire sauce? He told me he had a chilaccident. 

Here goes: The other day he got himself some takeout. Thai red curry chicken. Did I mention he likes it hot? So at home he absentmindedly grabbed his chili grinder and - instead of just grinding some onto his curry - opened the lid with the chili chunks and dumped them on his plate.
Can't blame me for laughing...!