Articles in “Strange Conversations”

I swear, this conversation actually took place this morning:

BALANCE BOARD: Good morning, Treena!
ME: Good morning, Balance Board.
BALANCE BOARD: Were you busy yesterday?
ME: Well, more “slightly hungover” than “busy,” but in a manner of speaking, yes.
BALANCE BOARD: Do you remember what you told me last time you put on weight?
ME: . . . No.
BALANCE BOARD: You said you hadn’t been exercising!
ME: Did I? Well, that seems plausible.
BALANCE BOARD: If I remember correctly, you said that the time before, too!
ME: This is getting a little creepy, now.
BALANCE BOARD: Let’s make sure it doesn’t become three times!
ME: . . .

ME: You’re not playing Arkham Asylum.
NICK: I need to push through the emotional trauma of the Scarecrow level.
ME: It’s not fair.
NICK: What’s not?
ME: That they should put such a level in your video game.
NICK: I know! There I am, having an awesome time being Batman and totally wrecking people in the face, and then suddenly I’m darting from place to place and being scared! I can do that in real life.
ME: Except for the darting from place to place.
NICK: Well, yes.

In which the Wii Fit rules our household with a fist of iron:

NICK (from the living room): Treena!
ME: Yes?
NICK: The Wii Fit is asking me about you!
ME: What does it want to know?
NICK: How I think you’re looking. Slimmer, more toned, fatter . . .
ME: What are you going to tell it?
NICK: Well, you’re not looking fatter.
ME: You could say “more toned.”
NICK: That’s what I was thinking.
(Pause)
ME: Well, what did it say?
NICK: It said. “Excellent! You shouldn’t be shy about telling her that!”
ME: It didn’t accuse you of lying?
NICK: No.
ME: Well, that’s a relief.

And in which Red Dwarf is rudely interrupted:

NICK: Hang on a minute.
(Random banging noises and some shouting.)
ME: Honey? What’s happening?
NICK: Well, I certainly hope that possum doesn’t choke on the remains of the roast chicken it just dragged out of the bin.
ME: I can tell that, yes.

NICK: I’m fascinated by your last Twitter update.
ME: It’s all true.
NICK: I need more information!
ME: No. It’s all there: I spent part of the morning pretending to be John Rhys Davies and hitting things with a shovel.
NICK: Just in the house in general? Or playing a game?
ME: Wouldn’t you like to know?
NICK: I really would!

MY MOTHER: We’re going to the pub tonight.
ME: Oh, it is cheap steak night?
MY MOTHER: Well, it’s Light Up Camden.
ME: For Christmas?
MY MOTHER: They turn the streetlights on.
ME: Don’t they do that every night?
MY MOTHER: No.
ME: I’m pretty sure they do that every night.
MY MOTHER: These are the Christmas streetlights.
ME: But I just asked if—never mind.

More Wii Fit chatter:

NICK: You were probably just plateauing, when you were upset about that weight gain before.
ME: No, that’s because we’d stuffed ourselves that weekend.
NICK: Oh, yeah. That seems to affect you more than it affects me.
ME: That’s because I’m a girl.
NICK: I tend to forget that.
(Pause)
ME: Thank you, sweetheart.
NICK: I don’t mean that I tend to forget you’re a girl! Dammit, that’s not what I meant at all.

A follow-up to this morning’s conversation:

NICK: (standing on the Wii Fit balance board): Aw.
ME: (reading on the sofa, not wearing my glasses, and therefore unable to see the television screen): What?
NICK: It says, “Someone told me earlier that your posture is improving.”
ME: Aw, that is nice.
NICK: Aw.
ME: What’s it saying now?
NICK: It says, “I can’t tell you who told me that, but I’ve sensed that about you as well.”
ME: That’s not what it told me! The lying git!
NICK: It’s playing us against each other!

This is perhaps the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.

WII FIT BALANCE BOARD: Good morning! Did you sleep well?
ME: No.
WII FIT BALANCE BOARD: It’s Friday! Have you made any plans for the weekend?
ME: (preserves a dignified silence)
WII FIT BALANCE BOARD: By the way, what do you think of Nick’s posture?
ME: The hell? (Picks “Is improving” from the limited selection)
WII FIT BALANCE BOARD: Oh. Well, in a certain sense, you might be right!

Imagine if your exercise equipment could dob you in to your partner! Well, that’s only one of the special advantages of Wii Fit.

In which I am ungrateful:

NICK: I’m about to buy your birthday gift
ME: Oooh! Really? Hurray!
NICK: Yes. Hoping you’ll like it.
ME: I love birthday gifts.
NICK: I may get something else as well.
ME: Oh, god—it’s not online storage space, is it?
NICK: No.
ME: No, seriously.
NICK: Though I could get that too.
ME: No! Thank you kindly, but that’s all right.
NICK: OK.
ME: It’s just not a birthdayish thing, you know?
NICK: Yeah, that’s true.

He’ll probably get it for me for Christmas, now.

Nick was making a pasta bake out of last night’s leftover rustic pasta with lentils, carrots, and celery, shredding part of a roast chicken to put over the top, when he found the wishbone.

“Let’s pull it and make a wish,” I said.

He came out on to the back verandah, and we wrapped our fingers around the bone. But it slipped out of Nick’s grasp. We tried again, and it slipped out of my grasp.

“I’ll dry it out and we’ll try again,” he said.

“No,” I said, “that’s a bit revolting. We don’t need to make wishes. We do okay.”

“I think we won a moral victory,” he said.

“I think the wishbone won a moral victory,” I said.

In which I become cranky while doing the washing up.

ME: Yes, that’s an excellent dance, Mr I Leave An Enormous Mess For My Girlfriend To Clean Up, Even Though She’s Marking And Going Insane.
NICK: Isn’t it?
ME: That’s exactly what someone wants in a boyfriend.
NICK: I’ve heard this.
ME: Tell me. When you heard this, did it sound as though it was in your voice?
NICK: It did, now you mention it.
ME: And you didn’t think that was questionable?
NICK: No.
ME: Why not?
NICK: When I hear words of wisdom, they’re usually in my voice.
ME: Of course they are.

I’ll give Nick this much credit: he knows enough not to engage with the crazy.

ME: Aren’t you glad I talked you into buying “She Sells Sanctuary”?
NICK: It didn’t take much convincing.
ME: No, but you didn’t have it already.
NICK: I probably have it somewhere.
ME: Unless it’s on that Goth three-disk collection, I doubt it. You don’t have any Cult albums, except for Pure Cult. And it’s not on that.
NICK: No.
ME: It sounds like it should be a best-of, Pure Cult.
NICK: It’s just lucky it didn’t go out . . .
ME: . . . with a typo in the title. Yes, yes, yes.

Here endeth the gratuitous Spaced references for the night.

ME: You only have to put the roast mushrooms on half the pizza if you like. They still have that mushroomy texture you don’t like.
NICK: Actually, I find marinade makes everything better.
ME: It’s quite sharp. There must be some lemon in it.
NICK: I love lemon. Lemon makes everything better.
ME: No.
NICK: No?
ME: No.
NICK: I suppose lemon makes most things better but not everything?
ME: Yes. Case in point: papercuts.
NICK: True.