Articles in “Strange Conversations”

I am shouting at the West Wing before and after this conversation, but I’ll spare you those bits.

ME: We should watch Dule Hill’s new show.
NICK: Yes, I hear it’s supposed to be good.
ME: Nick, I told you that. I told you it was supposed to be good.
NICK: Treen, that’s just how my brain works. Information is filed away; it isn’t attached to a citation.
ME: Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t finish your Ph.D., then.
NICK: Yes, it is.

ME: Honey, why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Well, I couldn’t find the container.
ME (pointing six inches to his left): It’s right there.
NICK: Well, I know that now.
ME: So why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Well, I saw the container as I was heading out of the room.
ME: But why is there a wok on the footstool in the living room?
NICK: Treena, we’re never going to have a conversation on this topic that ends in a satisfactory manner.
ME: Really?
NICK: Not satisfactory to you, anyway.

While planning dinner:

NICK: It’s really saturated fat that’s the problem.
ME: No, you said we couldn’t eat any fat at all, or we’d die.
NICK: It’s like there’s this whole parallel world where we actually have these conversations.
ME: Yes. In my head.
NICK: I’m glad you finally admit that.
ME: That doesn’t mean it’s not real!
NICK: I think you’ll find that’s pretty much the definition of “not real.”
ME: No, it’s not—Dumbledore said so.
NICK: But he’s not real, either.
(Pause)
ME: There has to be a way for me to get out of this conversation.
NICK: There isn’t. But I’ll try not to gloat too much, even though I hardly ever win arguments.
ME: You didn’t win this one. I just decided to stop participating.
NICK: No! You can’t log out of the game!

Always the subtleties of musical genres and movements escape me:

ME: This is horrible!
NICK: What?
ME: This! It’s incomprehensible thrashy guitar and a completely inaudible vocal track!
NICK: Treen, it is My Bloody Valentine. They’re the original shoegazer band.
ME: That is a total lie!
NICK: It is not!
ME: You look me in the eye, and tell me that that band whose name I’ve forgotten—Joy Division! That they weren’t the original shoegazer band.
NICK: They weren’t.
ME: He stared at his shoes all the time!
NICK: But they weren’t shoegazer.

A Packrat/laptop-with-a-scroll-pad related strange conversation:

ME: Bugger!
NICK: What?
ME: I just bought a sodding parrot!
NICK (slightly different intonation): What?
ME: I was just trying to scroll down the page and I accidentally bought a bloody parrot! Now what do I do?
NICK: You just . . .
(Long pause)
ME: Yes?
NICK: You just got to keep it real.
(Longer pause)
NICK: I have no idea what that means. Sorry.

It cost me one hundred credits, too.

And, five minutes later:

ME: I mean, a bloody parrot! I don’t need a parrot. I’ve already finished that set.
NICK: It happens, Treen. You just need to deal with it.
ME: I have never accidentally bought a parrot before.
NICK: Really?

Seeking shelter from the 36-degree heat at the shopping centre:

ME: On a scale of one to ten, how bad does my hair look? Because I can’t be bothered redressing it.
NICK: Lower is better, right?
ME: Yes. Ten would be the worst.
NICK: I’d say . . . three.
ME: Three?!
NICK: What?
ME: Why can’t you just say “one”?
NICK: You’ve got to stop asking me these things.