Articles in “Strange Conversations”

During the preparations for dinner tonight, while Nick was frying some sausages:

ME: Honey?
NICK: Yes?
ME: Two things, really. One, I would like some more wine.
NICK: Okay.
ME: Two, why is my kitchen slowly filling up with smoke?
NICK: You can’t break an omelette without making some eggs.
ME: And the omelette in this metaphor would be . . .?
NICK: Freedom!

Sometimes, I wish I were making these up.

Nick finally began thinking about the new armchairs, while I was sitting in the left-hand one:

NICK: You know what this is like?
ME: What?
NICK (patting the right-hand chair): I’m Will Riker; you’re Counsellor Troi. We need another big chair to go behind them.
ME: I’m Will Riker! That’s my chair!
NICK: And the television is the viewscreen. And we can pull the sofas around . . .
(My stare of bemusement finally gets through to him.)
NICK: I’m a geek!

You’re telling me, honey.

UPDATE:
A couple of days after this conversation, I reclaimed the right-hand chair, Will Riker’s chair.

Nick looked at me for a couple of minutes, and then said, “You know, I had it the wrong way around before. Now you’re Deanna Troi.”

There’s no length to which that man will not go to stop me being Will Riker.

I said I wasn’t going to post much while I was marking, but this is too weird to pass up.

ME: Hello?

TELEMARKETER: Hi, ma’am. My name is Sam and I assume you’re the owner of this telephone number?

ME: Well, technically I rent it from Telstra. (I get a bit stroppy when I’m marking.)

TELEMARKETER: Well, that’s not important, ma’am, because I’m calling to tell you we’re giving you a brand-new mobile phone.

ME: Ah. Well, either there are fifteen companies making this kind of call, or I’ve received hundreds of calls from you despite asking for them to be discontinued. But I don’t have a mobile phone and I don’t want a mobile phone, thank you.

TELEMARKETER: You receive all those calls because you’re a big celebrity in Australia, ma’am.

ME: Right. Well, I’m still not interested in a mobile phone.

TELEMARKETER: You have a very lovely voice, ma’am.

ME: Sorry?

TELEMARKETER: What’s your name, ma’am?

ME: Why would you need to know my name when I’m not interested in your service?

TELEMARKETER: I’m just asking your name, ma’am.

ME: And I’m just asking why you want it.

TELEMARKETER: How old are you, ma’am?

ME: Why on earth would you need to know how old I am?

TELEMARKETER: You look to be maybe 24 or 22, ma’am.

ME: And how on earth do you know what I look like?

TELEMARKETER: I’m just imagining it, ma’am, because you have a lovely voice.

ME: I beg your pardon?

TELEMARKETER: What’s your name, ma’am?

ME: I’m not telling you my name.

TELEMARKETER: I just want to be friends, ma’am. Has anyone told you you have a really lovely smile?

ME: Okay, I’m either going to have to hang up now, or ask to speak to your supervisor.

TELEMARKETER: Okay, I’ll hang up now, ma’am. Bye!

Okay, maybe this is what I get for engaging with telemarketers in the first place.

But part of me really hopes that that call was recorded for training purposes.

While driving home, listening to what turned out to be “Bizarre Love Triangle” on the radio:

NICK: Ooh.
ME: What is it?
NICK: An extended mix, I think.
ME: Of?
NICK: This song.

Sometimes, it isn’t even worth trying to control the Fist of Death.