We’re sitting on the couch watching a constant rotation of various hunting and fishing shows, when P looks at me and says, “Next week I might get to meet the guy who is basically the person who invented the blah, blah, blah.”
Except he didn’t actually say blah, blah, blah, but that’s what I heard because it had something to do with guns or firepower or ammunition.
So I said, “Oh, cool.”
Which translates to I’m trying to be excited but I have no idea what you’re talking about.
He said, “I don’t think you understand how great that is. It would be like you getting to meet Mr. Prada.”
“Yes, it would. Except that Mr. Prada has been dead for thirty years.”
But thanks for playing.
And I do love him for his attempt to speak my language.