Hospital

Twelve-Year-Old:  Oh God, I’m in a Russian hospital!

Trapped

Twelve-Year-Old: Mister Beast:  I trapped space Hitler for fifty hours in solid ice.
…
I dare you to blog that!

Corruption

Me:  Is that Münster?
Friend:  No, it’s corruption, incompetence, and corporate greed.
Me:  Is that a kind of cheese?

Hawk

Friend:  I’m kind of a hawk.  I want to bomb Iran.

Irritable

Otherwise Liberal Man Whom I Respect:  The one ultraconservative, anti-abortion woman I know is squarely in the “unfuckable” category—irritable, obese, psychiatric problems.  I mean, I’d bang her, but I doubt anybody else would.

Convention

Non-Veteran Friend:  Isn’t that the Geneva Convention?  You can’t leave a dead person behind?
Veteran Friend:  That’s called a “dead check,” and it’s frowned upon.

After Us

Colleague:  Thor?  Thor is coming after us?

Mourning

Me:  I’m not going to Julia’s today.  They’re probably in mourning for Henry Kissinger.

Airdropped

Me:  I just learned that per contra is also a term in financial bookkeeping.  And it doesn’t just mean, “cash payment airdropped into the jungle.”

Kissinger

Fifteen-Year-Old:  I don’t know who Henry Kissinger is.
Me:  I don’t know if that’s good or bad.