So let's say your annoying neighbor invites you over for dinner.
But you decide to go, anyway, because you don't want to feel like an asshole every time you see her backing her brand new Lexus out of the driveway at the same exact time you and your '98 Toyota are pulling out. Which, conveniently, happens way more than you'd like.
On the night of THE DINNER, you head over with a bottle of wine–secretly hoping she spills it all over her stupid cream-colored silk blouse, so at the very least, you'll be mildly entertained.
For dinner, the neighbor made some asparagus quiche nonsense, while you silently wonder how the fuck to spell quiche, and whether or not she's going to ration your wine intake. Probably will. Yoga-practicing, flaxseed-worshipping whore.
Thank god you're armed with an emergency flask.
So you're chillin' out with your plate full of quiche, when, after some time passes, you finally muster the guts to ask *the* question.
The one that could screw up everything.
The one that could ruin your neighborly good will forever.
The one that could mean a lifetime full of evil eyes and passive aggressive slights.
You decide to ask it anyway.–
Would you mind, um. Would you mind passing, uh, passing the salt?
You quickly look to gauge her reaction.
She stays calm.
And then silently, but obediently, through a clenched jaw, passes you the goods.
That's a relief.
At least you've saved her from the even more embarrassing event of having you VOMIT AT THE TABLE.
So what does this ridiculous scenario have to do with anything?
You'll find out tomorrow.
In the meantime, you should probably watch this music video. It has nothing to do with anything, and you won't understand the lyrics, but you'll get the point, and it's a good one to get.
Good thing I never promised coherence.