Articles in “Strange Conversations”

Nick and I were discussing this post on the Superuser question boards, in which someone asks what the A and B drives on a computer are used for.

ME: You’re right. That does make me feel incredibly old.
NICK: Told you.
ME: On the other hand, though, I’ve never even seen an eight-inch disk.
(Pause)
ME: That’s a sentence you’d want to enunciate very, very carefully.

ME: You have to read this XKCD comic. They’ve really come through for once.
NICK: That’s great.
ME: I need to get an air horn.
NICK: You would be an excellent air horner, my love.
ME: When you say things like that, it’s quite obvious you’re just running some kind of script in your head.
NICK: What do you mean?
ME: You know. A blank script. “You would be an excellent ____________, my love.”
NICK: Treena! You malign me!

But I don’t think I do.

ME: That mad butterfly’s back again! It’s harassing me! It’s been harassing me for weeks!
NICK: They don’t live that long, surely?
ME: No, they live for a day, or something like that. Maybe it’s not just one butterfly. Maybe it’s like …
NICK: Don’t say it.
ME: Don’t say what?
NICK: I don’t know, but it’s bound to be something a bit mad.
ME: I was going to say that maybe it’s like the McCoys and the Hatfields, only I’m all the Hatfields, because I live so much longer than a butterfly, and the butterfly is a succession of McCoys.
NICK: Okay, that’s really not what I was expecting.

ME: Smart-aleck boyfriends who contradict their girlfriends always get what they deserve.
NICK: Cuddles!
ME: No!
NICK: Cuddles!
ME: Oh, go on, then.

In which Facebook games meet classic ’80s science-fiction films:

ME: My Social City snowmen are alive! Look! They’re alive!
NICK: I don’t think they’re really alive, Treena. Maybe letting you watch Tron wasn’t the best idea.
ME: No. Now I’m scared to use my computer, in case a single keystroke sends innocent programmes to their death in gladiatorial combat.
NICK: Do you know what you need? An anxiety re-set.
ME: Do I need to go to the Game Zone for that?

ME: Ooh, do you remember when we went to the jewellery store down there so I could buy some earrings? And then I dropped one on the ground and we couldn’t find it? And then we had a fight?
NICK: Good times.

In which my brother and I debate grammar, a subject to which we came via the topic of ducks. (As you do.)

ME: No, I’ve looked “oleaginous” up, and it does mean containing oil, producing oil, or having the qualities of oil.
BROTHER: Well, I guess the ducks are oleaginous. You’d get quite a bit of fat if you cooked them.
ME: “Oleaginous” is also an adjective.
BROTHER: So?
ME: So that’s why I said “Your ducks are oleaginous.” Because it’s an adjective, you need a verb, and “are” is …
BROTHER (belches): That was a burp. It’s probably an adverb or something.

ME: What about Night Court? Was that a real court?
NICK: No.
ME: What was it, then?
NICK: A sit-com.
ME: No, but what was it about?
NICK: A courthouse. At night.
ME: So why when I asked if it was a court, did you say no?
NICK: Treena, you have to realise that you asking me if it was a real court is one of those questions that has deep philosophical implications.

Oh, you better believe I’ve been saving these up. Today is the tenth anniversary of my first date with Nick, and I think these conversations sum the last decade (decade? Man, I’m old) up nicely:

NICK: The thing I was going to say that turned out to be not very interesting? I’m going to say it anyway. Big Helga is not that bad a beer if you chill it correctly.
ME: Okay. Why did you take your pants off in the middle of that sentence?
NICK: Oh, these things happen.

NICK (singing, to the tune of “Sailing”): I am serving. I am seeeeeerving! The dinner. In little bowls. It is quite tasty. I think you’ll like it . . .
ME: Enough.
NICK: Really?
ME: Oh, yes.

ME (reading from Wikipedia): The Coliseum was used as the backdrop for a fight between jumpers and paladins in Jumper?
NICK: Was it?
ME: There were paladins in that film? What kind of film is that?
NICK: Well, they weren’t the good kind of paladin.
ME (in increasing confusion): There are bad paladins?
NICK: The non-D&D kind.
ME: No, that’s not fair. Paks wasn’t a D&D paladin, and she kicked arse.
NICK: True. And the Brotherhood of Steel paladins are pretty awesome.
ME: See, “paladin” pretty much defaults to “awesome.”
NICK: Except in a film starring Hayden Christensen.
ME: Now, that explains it.

ME (struggling with the existential horror that is Social City): I can’t make my people happy. Why won’t they just be happy?
NICK: The game is designed to frustrate you and make you anxious.
ME: Me personally?
NICK: You and people like you.
ME: You mean lovely people?
NICK: That’s exactly what I meant.

You don’t really need a context for this one:

ME (shouting from the bathroom): At least my boyfriend is a fully grown adult who does the washing up.
NICK (shouting back from the living room): Hooray!

And precisely two minutes after this conversation:

NICK: I bought a new pesto. Because I realised I didn’t like the Basilica pesto all that much.
ME: But it was your choice.
NICK: Which is why I said “I realised” instead of “Oh my God, why did you force me to buy that?!”
ME: You know, there’s some middle ground between those two options.
NICK: I’m just setting the parameters. I’m not accusing you of anything.
ME: Except putting lead in your food.
NICK: Well, if you’re going to join together two completely unrelated conversations . . .

NICK: Where are the new paper towels?
ME: Um, on top of the sideboard, I think.
NICK: Ah! Right in front of my eyes!
ME: As usual.
NICK: Why do you say such things?
ME: It’s not my fault you’re a bit dim.
NICK: Maybe it is. Maybe you’ve been putting lead in my food.
(Pause)
ME: What?
NICK: I’m just putting it out there as a possibility.
ME: See, this is why I don’t diligently leap out of bed every morning to make your breakfast. It’s exactly to protect myself from such allegations.

(Also, I’m a bit lazy.)

ME: Oh, look—someone’s folded my doona over so it only takes up about a foot of bed space while yours is sprawled everywhere.
NICK: It’s all part of my cunning plan to annex Bedtopia.
ME: … Bedtopia? Otherwise known as “the bed”?
NICK: Not really.
ME: What’s the difference between “the bed” and “Bedtopia”?
NICK: It’s like the difference between a country and a nation.
ME: So Bedtopia is …?
NICK: More of a geo-political construct.
ME: A geo-political construct that you can annex with your doona?
NICK: Obviously, there’ll be treaties.

NICK: Heh. Zachary Levi from Chuck is voicing one of the major NPCs in Fallout: New Vegas.
ME: I am deeply excited by this news.
NICK: Also, you get shot in the face by Matthew Perry at the start of the game.
ME: You are weird and a bit wrong.
NICK: True. But I do intend to shoot giant geckoes with plasma rifles soon.
ME: Yes. That’s more of an “and” than a “but,” though, isn’t it?
NICK: … Yes.

In which I knock over a wine bottle.

ME: That was a bit stupid. I’m not normally stupid.
NICK: No, you’re as clever as a monkey.
ME: Monkeys aren’t clever. They throw their own poo around.
NICK: It’s a natural response to the horror of existence.
ME: I will break up with you.
NICK: No you won’t.
ME: If you start throwing your poo around, I definitely will.
NICK: For monkeys, I said! Not for people!
ME: You didn’t specify that in your original statement. And if you start throwing your poo around as a natural expression of the horror of existence, I will break up with you.
NICK: When you put it like that, it seems quite reasonable.