You mean like how limes are unripe lemons?
I still feel kind of bad about an encounter in the supermarket a few months ago. An older man was wandering in the baking aisle with a list and asked where to find cream of tartar. We were a ways down from the spice area so I pointed there and said it’s where the spices are. I feel like I should have told him he was looking for a small container of powder, and not a can of cream like you might think!
I remember my mother making lemon meringue pie when I was a kid, and putting cream of tartar in the egg whites as she whipped them. That was about the extent of my experience with the stuff, and it never occurred to me to wonder what it actually was.
So upon reading your post, I looked at the Wikipedia article, and found it mildly interesting that, unlike many other things in the spice rack, cream of tartar is a pure chemical compound, potassium bitartrate. Apparently, it forms in wine, and I guess that’s why it has a more “traditional” sounding name, because humans have been using it since before we knew what molecules and ions were. Sort of like we don’t normally call table salt “sodium chloride” in everyday use.
And in the case of bell peppers, that’s still true. The green ones are nasty. The other colors are nice.
My wife and I drove by a field with a horse at the fence one time. The horse was obviously male. She said, “Did you see the size of the c**k on that horse?”.
I said, “It must be hung like a horse”. She looked at me in amazement and said “Is that what that expression means?”
I guess your cover is blown. 
I wish! She doubled down by saying that she thought the expression just referred to the fact that horses were big animals in general. My wife is delightful combination of naïve and crass.
The mail will get there if you address it that way (assuming you include the Zip code), but here’s how to do it right:
Manhattan: “New York, NY”
Brooklyn: “Brooklyn, NY”
Staten Island: “Staten Island, NY”
Bronx: “Bronx (or The Bronx), NY”
Queens: “[Neighborhood], NY” – for example, John Smith, 12-47 159th Street, Flushing, NY.
Cook?
Cork?
This is the Straight Dope. Give it to us straight.
[sub]Or did she actually say it with asterisks in the first place?[/sub]
I’m sure she did. Marlonius’s wife appears to be talented.
I wasn’t sure of the profanity policy, so erred on the side of caution.
Rest assured, she said cock.
I’m glad both of your survived the experience. It sounds like the kind of situation where keeping one’s car in the appropriate lane can get kind of tough.
So she saw something like this?: https://www.documentsanddesigns.com/images/Universal_Birds/Stationery/E_Stationery_Horse_and_Rooster.gif
Yeah, but which one is Danielle?
For future reference: if this thread was OK, then I’d say pretty much anything goes.
OMG, that thread contains profanity!
Here in New York (the Land of Dumb-ass Laws) the fuel cap is used to subvert a dumb-ass law prohibiting fuel nozzle latch locks. Don’t get caught by the Gas Station Police!
My aunt lives just outside city limits of City A, technically in Town B. She has satellite TV and shitty dialup internet because the City cable company won’t give her service because she’s geographically outside their coverage area, and the cable co. that covers Town won’t give her service because she has a City address.
Pretty sure NY, NY is only Manhattan. Of course, you can write whatever you want on the city line of the address and the USPS dgaf as long as you use the right ZIP code.
Lol Cameron’s pastor using the banana as an example of God’s Intelligent Design. Fits just so in the hand, easy to open, easy to eat [inadvertently mimics a blowjob]. Well, yeah, the banana was intelligently designed … by humans via selective breeding. The wild plantain is an ugly lumpy green thing full of seeds. The yellow Cavendish banana we know today is the second try at a commercial banana – the original banana, the Gros Michel (i.e. “Big Mike” in English), was wiped out by a blight because every banana is a clone.
At the time, the consensus seemed to be that the protagonist was “turning Japanese” because he was obsessed with a girl’s picture, playing on the stereotype of the Japanese tourist with the ever present camera.
More importantly, is it “psyched lone ranger” or “cyclone ranger?”
I finally remembered one of my own.
My Grandfather’s name was Frank, but I didn’t realize that. I thought his name was Grandpa. Even by the age of 6, I hadn’t figured this out, even though I knew my parents had actual names besides Mom and Dad.
I remember being at my Grandparents’ house and one of the dogs puked on the floor. My mom made a move to clean it up, and then Grandma said it was okay, “Frank would do it.” Then my grandfather cleaned it up. I was irritated that Frank was shirking his duties and leaving everything for Grandpa.
We saw them once a year, and that was the trip that I finally came to know they had actual names. I don’t think I even figured it out myself - my mom had to explain it to me. Six is way too old to still be in the dark about that in my opinion.