There's a ladder tear in my high ideals,
Like a took a chair on the battlefield,
And any noble friend that was burning in my chest
Is acid in my belly at the very best ..
Robert Downey Jr. named his baby Exton Elias. I have never wanted to beat a baby up so badly in my life.
Like most people, I really don't enjoy awkward silences. I think it falls in line with the Virgo part of my personality, which looks for harmony among peers. In my opinion, the absolute king of awkward silence set-ups is when a fat person openly acknowledges that they are fat.
It's awful. What makes it worse is that their comments about their fatness are usually thrown in as a nonchalant, off the cuff comment that everyone was apparently meant to just accept. What are you meant to say?
The instinctive response is to laugh, after half of a second of which you compose yourself and search for the answer which never comes, followed by more laughing upon realising there is nothing to say. Logic tells you that it'd be tasteless to deny it, although this often happens and you find yourself saying "No, you're not fat, don't be silly! Oh, you!", although 9 times out of 10 their girth was the first thing you clocked when you saw them.
But then again, bad as that answer seems, the other option is simply to agree with them, which is probably an even less advisable way out.
"Hahaha, yes, you're a HUGE fatty! Just looking at you makes me feel better about myself!"
Dear fat people - we get that you're fat. It's an undeniable aspect of your being and drawing attention to it mid conversation will not dispel preconceptions we have, if any. It just makes the moment awkward as fuck.
Today however, it was me that was the cause of the awkward silence.
I was at the Huddersfield Jobcentre again to sign my declarations when I made the acquaintance of yet another fellow jobseeker. I can't put her age anywhere closer to the bullseye than 45 - 60. She was short. Quite forward. Angry, grizzled yorkshirewoman persona.
We chatted for a minute after she said hi. I didn't get her name but I do know she'll have had pizza for dinner. We also agreed that the rain in Huddersfield was terrible. And we were just sitting there, when out of the blue she says "I like your hair".
I never really know what to say to this. My hair gets a bit of gel most days just to liven things up. I generally try and keep the old fringe to go to the left. Outside of that it's generally left to its own devices, though it doesn't benefit from being in the pouring rain.
"Cheers", I answered, smiling, "I like yours too."
Then came the pause.
Did I remember to mention that my friend's hair was cut short in that angry, grizzled yorkshirewoman way? It wasn't a buzzcut, but it was certainly more closely cropped than my hair has ever been.
That was pretty much the only thing running through my mind in the seconds after I shut my mouth. Her face froze for a moment and I started to think of ways I could explain how I'd made a surly Yorkshire lady beat the crap out of me in the middle of the Jobcentre.
The pregnant pause gave birth after an eternity's gestation; thankfully, after consideration, my new friend found my comment very funny.
Oof.
Just oof.
We all get a turn in the awkward silence chute, and today was mine.
