Articles in “Strange Conversations”

NICK: Why did you get rid of that?!
ME: Because it was revolting, I told you it was revolting, and I asked you to get rid of it ages ago.
NICK: Well, it’s gone now. So it’s almost as if I had got rid of it.

While showing Nick the variety of d20 jewelry I’d managed to find on the Internet this morning:

NICK: Now that is excellent.
ME: Isn’t it? And it’s the coolest one I found, too.
NICK: No earrings though?
ME: Well, not on ThinkGeek. There are earrings on Etsy. But I don’t think I want d20 earrings. I want 2d10 earrings.
NICK: Hehe.
ME: Because if I can roll for initiative with my necklace, I need to be able to deal damage with my earrings.
NICK: Yeah!
ME: Otherwise what use is my d20? I can attack but not damage.
NICK: That’s right. Unless you roll 20 each time. Then it’s auto max damage.
ME: And we know I’m not going to roll 20 with my necklace every time.

ME: We forgot to get wine.
NICK: So we did! We just walked out of there.
ME: I wonder why?
NICK: I got cranky in the supermarket and just walked out.
ME: That’s right! And I was too busy trying to calm you down.
(Simultaneously)
ME: Whoa, Nelly.
NICK: Easy there, tiger.
(Pause)
NICK: Nelly?
ME: Tiger?
NICK: It’s all about self-image versus how others see you.

ME: If you have a lump on your skull, don’t you think you should get that checked out?
NICK: Oh, it’s always been like that.
ME: Really?
NICK: Yep.
ME: Why do you have a lumpy skull?
NICK: It’s to annoy . . .
(Pause)
NICK: The joke would work better if I could remember the name of the people it’s supposed to annoy . . .
(Pause)
NICK: Phrenologists! It’s to annoy phrenologists.

He’s right: it didn’t really work as a joke.

ME: I have got to read something that doesn’t have vampires in it. To restore my intellectual credibility.
NICK: Steven Brust! Oh, wait. He does.

While discussing orange juice.

ME: I’m pretty sure we only bought it a fortnight ago.
NICK: Week before last, yeah.
ME: Well, that is the traditional definition of “a fortnight ago.”
NICK: I knew you were going to pull me up on that! I knew it!
ME: Then why did you say it?
NICK: Look, I sometimes just say things for the sake of the flow of conversation, rather than for any overt . . . thing.
ME: How is repeating what I say in a slightly different form contributing to the flow of conversation?
NICK: Just trust me on this.
ME: Why?
NICK: Because.
ME: Is this more flow of conversation?
NICK: No. No, the conversation stopped flowing some time ago.

NICK: Mumble mumble mumble.
ME: What?
NICK: I said “I know what evil lurks in the hearts of men.”
ME: You do not!
NICK: I do. I am The Shadow.
ME: You’re the what?
NICK: I am The Shadow.
ME: You most certainly are not.
NICK: You don’t know that.
ME: I can assure you that I do.
NICK: You can be reasonably sure, but not certain.

ME: I have got to stop falling in love with vampires.
NICK: Oh?
ME: Yes. It’s bad for my constitution.
NICK: Did someone else just die?
ME: Oh, no. But, you know, even if these are fictional characters . . .
NICK: Yes?
ME: Well, I just feel bad whenever I fall in love with another man.

While discussing the foolish advice that people give on Internet forums (with a segue into the dangers of misplaced modifiers):

NICK: Well, it’s all very easy when you’re sitting in your chair connected to the Internet.
ME: Your chair is connected to the Internet? What’s it doing? Streaming live pictures of your bottom?
NICK: You better believe it!
ME: Why would I want to believe that?
NICK: This conversation is going nowhere.

In which Nick explains why he couldn’t answer my urgent, bread-related phone call this morning, because he’s finally found a rare situation into which he is unwilling to take his iPhone:

ME: Ew. Seriously. Ew.
NICK: Just the usual.
ME: This is why I keep falling in love with fictional characters, you know. Nobody ever goes to the toilet in fiction. Let alone tells their girlfriend all about it. Well, except in some specialised kinds of porn.
NICK: Yeah, that’s true. It’s one of those subject areas that are left to the imagination.
ME: I have better uses for my imagination, I can assure you.
(Pause)
ME: Hang on. Did you mean the toilet? Or the porn?
NICK: Um, I thought the toilet?
ME: Me, too. But I thought I’d best check before I got too specific about what I use my imagination for.
NICK: OK, fair enough.

NICK: I wish I knew where my tracksuit pants are, because that would be awesome.
ME: I think they’re on the floor in the bedroom, just inside the door.
NICK: That makes perfect sense.
ME: It really doesn’t.
NICK: It makes perfect sense to me, and that’s all that matters.

ME: I’ve already replied to the dinner invitation.
NICK: You should have cc’d me in!
ME: Why?
NICK: In case I spontaneously decided to reply.
ME: You would never have done that.
NICK: You don’t know that.
ME: I do.
NICK: You don’t know it. I mean, you can be fairly sure, but you don’t know for certain.

Yes, all these happened in a single phone conversation.

MY MOTHER: Hello?
ME: Hi, Mam, It’s me!
MY MOTHER: (hangs up)
ME: Fair enough, then.

On a second attempt:

MY MOTHER: Hello?
ME: Well, you’ve never hung up on me before, so I thought “Is this accidental, or is there something going on here I don’t know about?”
MY MOTHER: Well, there was a pause and no one said anything, so I thought it was a telemarketer and hung up.
ME: You might want to upgrade the length of time you consider a “pause,” there.
MY MOTHER: Possibly.

My mother doesn’t believe phone conversations should be limited to actually talking to someone, and tends to wander:

MY MOTHER: Oh, the koi is lying on the bottom of the pond. I wonder if it’s dead? But it would probably float to the top. I suppose it’s just cold.
ME: I don’t think the cold would kill it. It gets quite cold in Japan. Doesn’t it snow there?
MY MOTHER: Well, that depends on the season.

And, finally, hammering out the logistics of a coming visit.

MY MOTHER: Your father is going to be bringing his computer.
ME: Why?
MY MOTHER: He always does. When we come to visit Nick, we bring the computer.
ME: He might want to start thinking about it as “visiting his daughter,” instead.
MY MOTHER: No, he doesn’t see it that way.

ME: Well, Nick wants to see the exhibition, as well. So you’d want to come over a weekend.
MY MOTHER: What exhibition?
ME: The Impressionists.
MY MOTHER: Oh, is there an Impressionists exhibition?
ME: Mam, that’s the reason you were coming to visit, remember?
MY MOTHER: Really?

The first conversation for the day, after a disturbed night:

NICK: Go back to bed, sweetie. You look like hell.
ME: Thank you.
NICK: I am trying to be supportive.
ME: For the record, there is no way to say “You look like hell” supportively.

Sometimes, you just make a foolish Facebook update:

ME: Stabs!
NICK: Pardon?
ME: It’s “from hell’s heart, I stab at thee.”
NICK: So?
ME: Well, on my status, I wrote, “from hell’s heart, I spit at thee.”
NICK: Maybe it was more of a spitting occasion?
ME: Yes, but it makes me look as though I can’t recite Wrath of Khan from memory.