Down with the Ship.

So there I was, sat in a room full of about thirty strangers. Thirty strangers that are supposed to be friends I just haven't met yet, as we all live in the same campus apartment block. We were introducing ourselves, in that American, get-to-know-you sort of way that makes everybody quite uncomfortable as they try to invent an interesting yet unique fact about themselves as way of differentiating from the rest, whilst remaining personable and likeable, but warm and funny too. It was complicated. "I have one attached earlobe and one unattached earlobe," was my personal favourite.  It was true, too. As one girl pointed out, there would appear to be a genetic question mark Right. About. THERE.





Anyway.



I had already wondered aloud that if I was to get a round of applause for merely stating that I was from the U.K. what would I get if I were to say my starsign or my favourite food? I got a polite chuckle. I don't think the British sarcasm thing I have going on really computes. But dammit, I'm going to try. Other than sarcasm, what else do I have but a fat ass and a potty mouth?



So some guy introduces himself and states his unique fact. "I've lived with this asshole (DAMN! I wanted to type ARSEHOLE. Same language, different words.) for four whole years," to which his friend beside him punched his arm.



"Oh yeah?" I said. "I've lived with my arsehole for twenty-three years."



I call this silencing a room in one short, swift sentence. AWKWARD.