Pete Repeat
I’d hate to be considered a boor (or a bore (or a boar, for that matter)), so I take great strides to never tell the same story twice (like boars tend to do?).
I find myself cringing oft-times at parties (get-togethers, if you will), when I overhear someone word-for-word reciting (to every other person in the room) the same story they already told me. It seems that while preparing for the night’s activity, while putting on that most-stylish shirt, they plotted out a few key anecdotes to tell and re-tell, with ever-increasing volume (at a 1:1 volume/alcohol-consumption ratio on a constant upward slope).
As a teetotaler (teat-ogler? Maybe. But that’s a different story, and now we’re talking about same stories), my tolerance for other people’s drunkenness decreases as their ability to be entertaining crosses the line into unoriginal repetitiveness (at a 3:1 drunk/tolerant ratio on a declining curve).
No story is as good on the fifth hearing (even with new exaggerated elaborations). I prefer someone barfing their intoxicated guts all over me than them reiterating their none-too-interesting life’s minutiae.
“Oh, you were snorkeling last week off the Great Barrier Reef and a shark attacked you? You don’t say. Uh-huh, it ripped off your leg and that’s why you’re in a wheelchair? And then you pried your leg out of its razor teeth and used it as a bludgeon. Neat.”
Kill me now - this guy’s a drag! I heard this damn story about ten minutes ago - why won’t he just shut up already? No one cares about your stupid shark battles.
Anyway, let me get back to how I lost my sense of smell …
2 years ago