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.
Small talk also exists when one is at, say, a company party. The kind of party one only attends because the food and drinks are free. The kind of party one attends because they PLAN on using said drinks to get a little TIPSY!!!
Some will claim that the worst small talk has to do with things like the weather. But they are wrong. Weather conversations can be interesting, example: "how about this weather, when was the last time you remember it raining molten lava?" See? Interesting!
Cloudy with an 80% chance of fiery death |
No, the worst kind of Small Talk comes when people want to talk about themselves, but don't want to make it obvious that they want to talk only about themselves. Often at social functions with non-friends (ie: company parties) people are not attempting to make friends, they only want to pass the time while they consume food and drink. The best way to do this: talk about yourself.
Now, if you are in the process of getting drunk, obnoxious small talk washes over you like brain cells off a drunk duck's brain. But if you are, like me, frustratingly tolerant to alcohol, you find yourself less and less tolerant to small talk. The evening proceeds thusly:
Two drinks in, no buzz.
Coworker: "What kind of food do you like? Ever since I came back from Portugal I haven't eaten meat any more."
Excuse me... that is not a question. That is a statement about the time YOU visited some place mildly interesting. You're not even attempting to converse with me, so I need more booze, excuse me.
Four drinks in, STILL nothing!
Coworker: "I just can't agree with what the President is doing. If I ran this country, nobody would pay taxes"
Yes... good point. Remind me to vote for you in the future. Taxes ARE bad. I prefer house fires DON'T get extinguished by firefighters and I don't like the idea of children getting an education.
SIX DRINKS IN, STILLFUCKINGNOTHING!!! WHAT IS GOING ON!!!
Coworker: "I hate people who litter..."
REALLY!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! God DAMN! That is so FUCKING interesting! See, I LOVE it when people litter, it makes me smile every time. The only thing I love more is when people make blatantly obvious statements like "I hate people who litter" just to sound impressive! That is like telling me you hate people who murder kittens. No fucking SHIT!
Small Talk exists on this planet like a sentient super-virulent virus determined to drive us all to alcoholism. I know in Batman: Begins they say it was the League of Shadows that sacked Rome... I bet it was actually rampant Small Talk.
The dangers of Vegrandis Sermo... |
But we can't blame all our pain and misery on small talk. We can't forget those alcohol loving distant relatives...
Curse you heavy drinking Irish ancestors! CURSE YOU!
Wow, how did you come up with such a great idea to blog about? It reminds me of my day as a youth in Surrey, romping through the shady glen...
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