Articles in “Strange Conversations”

NICK: I need to do something different with my life.
ME: In general? Or are you just thinking you shouldn’t play any more Diablo this afternoon?
NICK: The latter.
ME: Excellent. You can do some washing up.
NICK: I wasn’t thinking of anything that radical.

Nick’s Goth background starts showing through:

NICK: You seem willing to cuddle me at the moment. (Note: not a euphemism.)
ME: I cuddle you all the time! And I initiate cuddles, too, even though I’m not a cuddler by nature. So you stop that!
NICK: Okay.
ME: Well, you’ve spoilt the cuddle mood now.
NICK: For good?
ME: Yep.
NICK: You are so Old Testament sometimes.

I had my hair cut this morning, and I’m worried that it’s a little too short. (It’s doesn’t help when you say “shoulder length” and then the hairdresser starts muttering, after she’s already cut a chunk off, “That’s quite a lot to take off in one go.”

So I’m a little nervous about it.

Then the following conversation occurred:

NICK: So let’s have a look at the new hair.
ME: You could have mentioned it when you came into the room five minutes ago to say “Hello,” but you didn’t notice it.
NICK: I did! I did notice it! I was just waiting to have a proper conversation.
ME: You didn’t notice it.
NICK: Well, I wasn’t really looking at you.

Yep, honey. That makes it much better.

The danger of miming or why I don’t hold conversations when I have my mouth full:

NICK: How about I make some coffee and we watch Burn Notice?
ME: (indicates an extremely small span with my fingers and then makes the universal gesture for insanity, as perfected by Edvard Munch)
NICK: What? A small amount of coffee equals a lot of screaming?
ME: (shakes head)
NICK: You’ve had too much to drink?
ME: (shakes head)
NICK: You’re scared of the pincer movement?

While watching the adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Cards on the Table:

ME: This is an extremely clever book. I hope they don’t muck around with it too much.
NICK: Don’t worry; I’m sure there’ll be lesbian Nazi nuns any minute now.

This conversation brought to you by an unusual burst of humility on my part.

ME: But it’s outside my alloted role, and there’s a name for people who move outside their alloted role.
NICK: Heroes!
ME: I don’t think so. Beowulf was a hero.
NICK: Yep.
ME: Well, he didn’t move outside his alloted role. He went out and died at the hands—if you’ll excuse the metaphor—of the dragon in the final part of the poem because it was his responsibility as king. Well, it wasn’t his responsibility to die, but it was his role to fight the dragon.
NICK: Right.
ME: So I dispute your definition of the word “hero.”
NICK: Well, in that case, I’m going to play some Diablo.

You just can’t argue with game-bound geeks.

All conversations are strange when you’re rolling up D&D characters.

ME: I think we’re down on healers. And then we’re all dead. Again.
NICK: I’m thinking I have to play a cleric, regardless.
ME: But you like to play a fighter. I don’t mean the specific class, but a fighting character.
NICK: But the main thing is that I want to turn undead, and clerics can do that as well as paladins.
ME: You want to become the undead?
NICK: Turn undead.
ME: That’s what I said.
NICK: No, you invoke “turn undead” and their heads explode.
ME: Okay, that is pretty cool.
NICK: “Don’t worry, my son: I kick arse for the Lord.”
ME: But he died.
NICK: He died righteously.
ME: True—laying down the kung-fu law on the undead.
NICK: That’s it—I’m playing a cleric. And I’m going to show all you wussbags.

Recycling my own material:

ME: Really, no day can be bad when it includes ducklings.
NICK: That’s true!
ME: The only things cooler than ducklings are otters. And maybe puffins.
NICK: Puffins are cool.
ME: I love puffins. When I take over the world, it will be at the head of an army of puffins.
NICK: A mighty army of puffins!
ME: Hell yeah, a mighty army. What other kind of army would you have?
NICK: A wussbag army of puffins.
ME: I’m going to blog that.
NICK: Well, just make sure “wussbag” isn’t a offensive term.

From mid-conversation:

ME: You don’t have a brain.
NICK: You don’t know that!
ME: You’ve already made that joke. I blogged it.
NICK: I know that. I was making an amusing reference to it using the power of amusement.
ME: You see, if you have to use the word “amusement” twice to explain your joke, then it isn’t funny.
NICK: You’re an exacting comedy client.

Nick’s feet are particularly susceptible to tickling:

NICK: Stop!
ME: No.
NICK: I’m getting a headache.
ME: No, you’re not. (Note: sadism is an essential part of the tickling process.)
NICK: Oh, my brain!
ME: You don’t have a brain.
NICK: You don’t know that!