This blog post only exists because I have a really high tolerance to alcohol.
Don't worry, I will get to the topic of the post eventually. But first, I have to ask: does anyone else have one of those nights where you are totally committed to getting, if not drunk, at least comfortably tipsy, but then, despite ALL EFFORTS, nature fights back?
|Maybe not QUITE this far... but heading in the right direction..|
Is it just me? Whenever I plan my drinking in advance, fully invested in getting a little sauced, I end the evening discoursing Proust in my most eloquent prose while, on nights when I plan to have only one drink, I end up vomiting in the corner on a towel I retrieved from the bathroom.
(That is right, I went INTO the bathroom, removed a towel, placed it in the corner of the bedroom and threw up on it, then went back to bed proud of how forward thinking I was… next morning, no memory of it. Let me know if anyone wants the full story on that one, if I get enough requests I may divulge it.)
|I have them!!!|
But the topic of this post is, in fact, SMALL TALK. Small Talk is a many varied and cunning beast that can rear it's head in a myriad of different ways. Often employed extensively on blind dates, it can be hard to remember that Small Talk's sphere of influence extends beyond the twisted miasma of the ocularly impaired dating scene.