Sometimes when I hear myself say something or refrain from saying something in a social situation -- in an interview, to a coworker, to a stranger that insists on making small talk -- which betrays how I really feel, I hear my inner child, who happens to sound exactly like Elizabeth from Drop Dead Fred, say "what a pile of shit!" Then I smile, concealing my laughter, leaving the recipient of my social graces to assume that I'm so contented with the discussion at hand, rather than the one in my head.
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