Articles in “Strange Conversations”

The Hallowe’en edition:

ME: That’s everything. But you’re going to have to do some chopping and so forth when people arrive, because I’m going to basically disable myself, in the truest sense of the word.
NICK: What, get maggoted?
(Pause)
ME: I was thinking more of my fake fingernails?
NICK: Oh. Well, them too.

While Nick is reading the first draft of my novel:

ME: You could come and read it in the bedroom. I’m going in there to play Mario Party DS.
NICK: But I’m comfortable now.
ME: Okay. Do you need me?
NICK: No. Well, generally speaking, yes.

Bless.

In which my mother demonstrates that, while she’s persistent in chasing all the minutiae of her daughters’ lives, at least she believes it’s a two-way process:

ME: Well, when are you getting back from Tasmania?
MY MOTHER: Oh, not long after we set out.
ME: That’s not helping me, Mother.
MY MOTHER: You don’t know when we’re setting out?
ME: . . . No.

This conversation came while we were listening to Ride’s “Drive Blind” (an event succeeded by me becoming overwhelmed by mid-‘90s nostalgia and insisting on listening to a couple of tracks from Bush’s Sixteen Stone album):

ME: Ride really are shoegazer, aren’t they? It’s odd, because I love them, but I normally hate shoegazer. Like My Bloody Valentine. And you know what I dislike most about My Bloody Valentine? The fact that they’re called My Bloody Valentine, so I can’t even use that name pejoratively.
NICK: Yeah.
ME: You weren’t listening to that, were you?
NICK: I can only hear about one word in ten. So I just keep listening, and say “Yeah,” and pick up the conversation later.
ME: Remember when we said that that increases the chances of you getting shouted at? Because it’s really annoying?
NICK: Yeah.
ME: Did you hear that?
NICK: What?

ME: My calves are never going to forgive me for all this exercise.
NICK: Never?
ME: Never!
NICK: “Never gonna give you up . . .”
ME: Sweetie, if you Rick-Roll me again, I shall punch you.
NICK: Fair enough.
ME: Metaphorically speaking.
NICK: Of course.

Post-Wii Fit:

ME: Then I did the free jogging, but I spent most of my time shouting, “Stop slowing down you, you stupid cow!” at my Mii.
NICK: Really?
ME: Yeah. And on an empty stomach, too! Sometimes, the balance board asks me if I’ve eaten my breakfast, and I think, “Are you kidding me? Dude. Shut up and exercise me already!”
NICK: You’re developing quite an adversarial relationship with that balance board, aren’t you?
ME: And with my Mii. They’re just so damn chirpy.
NICK: They’ve probably had a crack team of Nintendo engineers working out the exact degree of chirpy that works best.
ME: Yeah, but it was designed in Japan. And judging from this and other games, they have a much higher tolerance for chirpy than I do.
NICK: Doesn’t everyone?
ME: Oh, shut up.

Watching Nick trying cycling on the Wii Fit:

ME: Zig-zag to go up a hill. And lean forward.
NICK: How do I do that?

I’m afraid if you don’t know how to lean forward at your age, I can’t help you there, sweetie.

When fishing for compliments backfires horribly:

MAGGIE O’CONNELL IN NORTHERN EXPOSURE: It’s all surface and no substance. Why can’t they be attracted to women who are intelligent and focused and competent?
ME: You were. If we ignore the last two categories.
NICK: Well, she is a good pilot.
(Pause)
ME: I was talking about me.
NICK: Oh.

In which I become over-invested in a game of Peggle Nights too soon after we rewatched Spaced:

ME: Soon I shall have my revenge!
NICK: On the Jedi?
ME: On anyone, really. I’m not fussy.
(Pause)
ME: Why? Have the Jedi been slagging me off behind my back?
NICK: Yeah.
ME: Really?
NICK: Yeah. I tried to stop them, but they kept Force-pushing me away.

ME: Because I quite liked those photographs I took of my books in their natural environment, and I want to take some more.
(Pause)
NICK: This is one of those conversations where you started it in your head a while ago, isn’t it?
ME: No! It’s why I asked you to find the battery charger. And we had a long conversation about it then. Five minutes ago.
NICK: Oh. I mustn’t have been listening.

Frantically tidying my house before my father-in-law comes around for dinner.

ME: Nicholas! Oh, so not.
NICK: What?
ME: Don’t think I didn’t see that Wii Fit box hidden behind the sofa.
NICK: I didn’t think you didn’t see it. I just didn’t think you’d care.
ME: Why would you think that?
NICK: It’s so hard to predict.

It’s really not, you know.

When shopping this morning (during which we cracked and bought Wii Fit, which has just assessed my age as 44, and asked me if I trip over a lot while walking), Nick and I split up, so that he could grab lunch and I could take the groceries to the car:

NICK: Maybe I should take the Wii Fit with me?
ME: Why?
NICK: Aren’t you going to have too much to carry?
ME: No. What am I, a delicate flower?
NICK: Of course not. You’re robust!
(Pause)
ME: Thank you, sweetheart.
NICK: You’re welcome!

Sadly, the Wii Fit agrees with him.

Catching up on the “Rage Gets Hairy” special, which I’m too lazy to tweet tonight: by this point, we were up to “November Rain,” and Nick was washing up, necessitating a certain narrative role on my part.

ME: Ooh, look! It’s the symbolic, melancholic, windswept guitar solo!
NICK: Is this song still going on?
ME: Oh, this song goes forever. I think it’s still going on, somewhere.

Slightly later:

ME: Slash is standing on a grand piano for the guitar solo.
NICK: Awesome.
ME: Not that it’s a guitar solo.
NICK: How isn’t this a guitar solo?
ME: Because there are other instruments.
NICK: That’s still a solo.
ME: It’s not!
NICK: Solo doesn’t mean solo. Solo means that a single instrument comes out to take the main melodic role in a composition.
(Pause)
ME: You know, that’s really not what the word “solo” means. I think the world needs to know about this.

And now you do.

ME: I don’t know—it just seems as though me not liking Crowded House is akin to me not finding George Clooney sexy. (Note: I don’t. I know: it’s weird.)
NICK THE KIWI: It would be worse if you were a Kiwi.
ME: Everything would be worse if I were a Kiwi.
(Pause)
NICK THE KIWI: Just move your wine glass, so I can throw something at you, would you?
ME: No. That’s what you get for making broadly nationalistic comments.

ME: You’re not listening to me, are you?
NICK: But you were talking to yourself!
ME: Honey, remember when we talked about how I’m not actually talking to myself? That I’m talking to you, but you’re not listening?
NICK: It sounds like you’re talking to yourself.
ME: There is no sound of me talking to myself! That’s just something you made up to get out of listening to me!
NICK: Oh. Really?