Drama Queens: A royal pain; run as fast as you can
Straight, gay, man, woman – drama queens know no boundaries. You see them at the mall, at work, in traffic and staring at you from across the table.
Like many things in life, our relationship with drama is a cultural paradox.
When we’re on the outside looking in, drama queens can be funny and urbane.
We watch “Real Housewives,” the social handbook on drama.
We crave that sensationalized headline or breaking news story.
I have no problem with hyperbole and hysteria – if I am allowed to pump the breaks or shut it down.
And it’s always good to recognize that drama queens can’t exist without an audience.
We can all identify drama queens by their behavior; Lindsay Lohan, Justin Bieber and the woman that cuts my hair. All drama queens.
Alfred Hitchcock said, “What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out.”
So, remember: Difficulty in life inevitable. Drama is a choice.
If you’re reared as a drama queen, you grow up to be a diva. Just ask Diana Ross. Or RuPaul. Or the president.
Most of us gravitate toward peace and away from chaos. But chaos is everywhere.
If someone reminds you of a migraine, it’s possible that person is a drama queen.
And you’d like to offer advice to the drama queen in your life by saying, “Relax. Stop whining and move on.” But as any wildlife expert will tell you, for example, a register clerk at Lord and Taylor, this just annoys and inflames the drama queen’s behavior.
A lot of drama queens want to slap people but don’t, because they don’t want to get stupid on their hand. This, according to unnamed sources.
Some places are drama-free. Churches and Walmart come to mind.
When working with a drama queen, our days typically consist of hostage negotiations. Hence, we’re left with less energy and enthusiasm to fuel our own lives.
And by that, you can skip watching Fox News. There’s always enough drama at work to entertain you.
Politicians can be fantastic drama queens. Look around – there are a few in Washington, either gloating or agonizing as you read this.
I normally will just allow a drama queen’s rant in silence, but that silence does not mean I condone crazy.
I’ve learned that Facebook is a drama queen’s best friend.
Personally, I’d like to send a diary to every person on Facebook who laments about their woes, such as burnt batches of cookies and children losing soccer games.
I saw one post from a girl who was upset about her new hair color and took a selfie of herself crying, then put it on Facebook.
I’ve decided I’m going to do the same, such as when my dryer loses a sock, I wake up with a cowlick or my jeans are too tight.
Facebook used to be a social network, now it’s a psychiatrist’s waiting room.
I’ve found that drama queens will stop asking questions if you answer with an interpretive dance.
Drama queens wish for strange things. Like new clothes or the hope that you step on a Lego while barefoot.
It often amazes me that dram queens, victims that they portray themselves as, don’t carry around body chalk.
I think some drama queens should sell that crown and use the money for counselling.
It’s surprising that with all the drama in our lives, that fainting couches haven’t made a comeback.
Drama queens don’t expect to have everything handed to them. You can just set the stuff down anywhere.
Drama queens never excuse themselves when they’re about to cause a scene.
Drama queens are the only people I know who can throw a tantrum and catch it at the same time.
To quote playwright David Mamet, “The basic call of drama is … the struggle of the hero toward a specific goal at the end of which he realizes that what kept him from it was, in the lesser drama, civilization and, in the great drama, the discovery of something that he did not set out to discover but which can be seen retrospectively as inevitable.”
For me, there are two ways to handle a drama queen: Polish the crown, grab a box of popcorn and enjoy the show.
Or, and this is my preferred option: Run as fast as you can in the opposite direction.
George Pelletier may be reached at email@example.com.