Articles in “Strange Conversations”

While sitting on the back verandah, and apropos of absolutely nothing:

NICK: Have you been sweating?
ME: Excuse me?
NICK (brushing his hand across my forehead): Oh, you have. Good.
ME: Seriously, what is happening here?
NICK: I thought it might only be me.

We’ve neglected the Wii Fit over Christmas, so this morning I had the following conversation.

BALANCE BOARD: Good morning, Treena! Were you busy yesterday?
ME: (ignoring the passive-aggressive balance board)
BALANCE BOARD: By the way, what do you think of Nick’s fitness?
ME: (selecting “the same” from the limited options)
BALANCE BOARD: Oh . . . change is always more exciting, don’t you think? Maybe you just haven’t been paying enough attention to Nick!
ME: Excuse me?
BALANCE BOARD: On a side note, did you know that dogs become more motivated when their owners pay more attention to them?
ME: Oh, Nick is going to be happy that you said that.

In which, during a nice pub meal in a nice pub, the iPhone rears its head again, and Nick belatedly learns wisdom:

ME: Doesn’t look like we are getting any of that rain.
NICK: Do you want me to check?
ME: What do you think the chances are of me saying yes to that?
NICK: I’d say “cloudy with a chance of some slight shouting . . .” Ooh, that’s not a good look.

Via instant messaging:

NICK: iPad! Wooo!
ME: Dear god. No one else is excited. No one.
NICK: Except everyone on Twitter.
ME: Um, everyone on Twitter is bitching about it.
NICK: There is bitching and excitement and all the other emotions.
ME: iBored.
NICK: iGo. iBye!
ME: That’s just stupid. It doesn’t work if it doesn’t naturally have “I” in front of it!
uStupid.
NICK: eWhatever.

Discussing the MySchool website (my school trends well, but was still a fascist hellhole, for the record) and Nick’s perceptions of its egregious design flaws, including using red/green differentiation for data displays:

ME: Well, the colour-blind issue is a big one. Don’t they have to be compliant in some way?
NICK: Yeah, a website built with government money needs to be compliant with the Disability Discrimination Act of 1992.
ME: Exactly! Is it compliant? With that distinction [between the green and red]?
NICK: Not enough by my reading.
ME: Send them an angry e-mail! Do it!
NICK: Yeah. OK.
ME: Hurray! Fight the power!
(Long, long pause)
ME: Ooops, must be your lunchtime. Or you died. Either or.
NICK: I’m fighting the power!
ME: Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean during the conversation you were already having.
I meant “fight the power after you’ve finished chatting with your girlfriend.”
NICK: Sorry. OK.
ME: It’s hard to have a revolution and a conversation at the same time.

A flashback to the Christmas holidays:

MY FATHER: Are those dark wizards flying around?
ME: No, that’s a train.
MY FATHER: Oh, well, that’s all right then.

And slightly later:

MY FATHER: Did that house just appear out of nowhere?
ME: No. They just walked up to it.
MY FATHER: Oh.

There’s something to be said for retaining a childlike sense of wonder, after all.

What happens when you ask a geek/web designer not to raise his voice during an IM conversation?

NICK: I’m not shouting! I just like the way Helvetica looks in all caps.
ME: Idiot.

Nick has viral gastroenteritis, and is lying in the bedroom feeling sorry for himself. (Poor love.)

I am in the study, checking my e-mail.

And, suddenly, up pops an instant-message window.

NICK: I think I could manage some honey on toast.
ME: Oh, you did not just do that.
NICK: You know I did.
ME: I was giving you an out.
NICK: I mean, no it was an accident.
ME: What was an accident?
NICK: Whatever you were giving me an out for.
ME: Instant messaging me to ask me to make you honey on toast, when you are just down the hallway. That is all kinds of wrong.
NICK: I didn’t wish to shout.

ME: I can’t believe I’m thinking of going out in public in this outfit. (Yoga pants and a horizontally striped top, for the record.)
NICK: It’s not really public; it’s only among friends.
ME: That’s not helping.
NICK: Oh. Really?

Discussing the 3D rendering Nick promised to complete for my father:

ME: As I said, he really gets his money’s worth out of you.
NICK: Well . . .
ME: Still, I suppose, you got your money’s worth from him, too.
NICK: In beer!
ME: No. Me.
NICK: Yeah, Treena’s the best.
ME: Not as good as beer, apparently.
(Pause, and, possibly, a small poke in the ribs)
NICK: You’re better than beer!
ME: Took you long enough.
NICK: I was too busy laughing before.

Inspired by the strange things that Nick finds on the Internet:

NICK: Apparently, Benny and Bjorn from ABBA are huge Torchwood fans, and approached Russell T. Davies about doing a musical episode.
ME: Well, Torchwood is frequently quite terrifying.