I once turned a conversation a bit awkward with this:
Dude: About half my high school were witches.
Me: (having read critical Christian thinkers who didn’t buy the hysteria about the Satanists) There’s no way that many people in Orange County (CA) would be Satanists. That’s not true.
Him: [stunned silence]
I still don’t really regret it. I think it actually increased my tenability (is that a word) when I realized the speaker was probably slightly retarded. Is that right?
Tell me about it. I’m trying to resist the urge to explain cricket.
Okay, you’ve got to spill the beans on this one. Do you really have to find the positive root of an eighth-degree polynomial? Because if so, you’re such a dick.
I, for the love of Og, will never, NEVER, try to convince anyone, that the direction the water swirls as it’s going down the drain has fuck all to do with your geographic location on the planet.
I think it depends on the Englishman. I answered cricket questions at a Vegas Dopefest and got a polite reception. The answers were short and clear!
On the bushcraft forum I post to you can guarantee a train-wreck by asking whether Bear Grylls is better than Ray Mears.
(Being nerds the answer is always Ray Mears, with Bear Grylls viewed as a travesty).
Dave Barry once said never to ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless you see an actual baby emerging from her body.
I did some kind of reversal to that, and was actually annoyed when the woman who was standing behind a counter and cash register, so only her head was showing, got pissy with me. Her colleagues mentioned something about her baby shower and I said “Oh, you’e expecting? Congratulations!” and her response was as nasty-toned: “Yes, I"m expecting! This isn’t fat!”
Sheesh, lady. All I can see is your head.
I once unintentionally caused a ferocious debate among the homemakers in my office by asking at lunch, “Who here washes out and reuses Ziploc bags?” My intent was merely to find out how to do it and thereby save a buck, but most of the women chose to understand my remark as “Who is cheap/poor/low class enough to actually wash a plastic bag?”, and it started a hell of a brouhaha between the washers and the non-washers.
I don’t think I ever really got my question answered.
Dom or Sub?
I’m sure a Harrier or Osprey could easily take off from a treadmill. 