The Wrecking Ball

I like this article by Will Gadd on “helmet fires.” Written back in 2011, it's an oldie but a goodie. I frequently have helmet fires, mostly, however, in social situations. When the helmet fire ignites, the mouth runs off. Socially awkward does not really describe me. “I came in like a wrecking ball” to quote Miley Cyrus is way more appropriate than the tepid phrase “socially awkward.”

While I am happy to discuss issues in depth, I abhor small talk. Mindless chitter chatter, that essential social lubricant, seems to me like so much wasted time and energy. Because I have goals, and I can't spare the energy or the time to chat about the latest reality TV show or the next useless gizmo you plan to buy when I have training to do, plans to make, places to go.

I have a pathological inability to lie. If you ask me if this dress makes you look fat, and the dress does, indeed make you look like an oversized beach ball with limbs, I will absolutely say “yes.” I do not care that you spent $400 on the outfit and are just off to your only daughter's wedding, if the dress makes you look fat, it makes you look fat.

I rarely agree with mainstream opinions and have long since decided that the so-called “experts” lack any credibility. I really don't care if you have ten PhD's or are the leading expert in your field if what you say makes no sense to me, I will call bull-shit.

And, I call bull-shit often. Excuses never got anyone anywhere so we should all stop right now with making them. That way, at least one of my annoying character traits won't be so prominent.