You Won’t Make Friends if You Fart During Yoga

When I was very small I wasn’t really interested in making friends with children. I wanted to be read to, constantly, and most of my peers couldn’t read yet so I had to settle for grownups as friends. I was really good at making friends with those grownups, I would smile and ask nicely and look like a tiny lonely angel who just needed a quick little story. But that’s how you trap them. One quick little story would turn into spending all day at playgroup tricking people into reading to me.

I was quite content with my grownup pals.

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How Are You?

Adults have this annoying habit of constantly asking people how they are. As passable adults it is likely that we ask this less because we know that the answers are far from straight forward, and we’ve yet to perfect that – Nod – Smile – “Great thanks”- thing that real adults do. There’s still a distinct sadness in our eyes that gives the game away and will force the asker to lengthen their R’s. “No, really, how arrrrreee you?”.

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How to: Eat Dinner With Other Adults (Part 3)

For part 1 click here.

For part 2 click here.

 

Obstacle 3: Who pays.

By far the most awkward part of any dinner, deciding who is footing the bill, whether you are splitting equally, or paying for exactly what you each had. As well as considering who you are with you should also consider what you ate. It’s really only cool to be the one suggesting an equal split if you had a side salad and water and the other person had a 18oz steak and a bottle of red. The other way round is a pisstake.

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How to: Eat Dinner With Other Adults (Part 1)

The hope is that by your early 20’s the spoon/aeroplane method has taken full effect and you are now aware how to put food into your mouth, chew and swallow.

What we are not taught is how to go to Sainsburys regularly enough to make sure there is food in the house when you are hungover and unable to venture out into
the cold, blinding light of the day time. For this I totally blame the aeroplane method, I often look in my fridge, realise there is nothing there and leave it expecting something tasty to zoom through the sky and parachute into my kitchen and/or mouth.

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