The Conversation Killer

I have to give myself a hand. Ruining a conversation is becoming my interruptingexpertise.

With the high quality technology that I have implanted in my head, it sends me signals on when to interrupt when someone is talking.

I have a problem talking over other people. It’s not intentional, I swear. It’s also not intentional if I ignore you or misunderstand what you said. Again, I swear.

When I think someone has finished what they were saying, the realization is they are still talking.

Amy: “And then I had to walk about 1 1/2 miles in the snow to…”

Me: “Snow is such a pain, especially, this year, isn’t it? Want to go outside the walk the dogs?”

Amy: (to herself): WTF?

Amy: “I gotta go. I forgot I have to do something…Anything.”

Aaaaaaaand, there she goes. I’m the Conversation Killer.

I told my husband, “This guy acts like he’s had a few hits to the head, doesn’t he?” 

I’ll pick up on bits and pieces of a conversation and try to put the story together. Sixty Minutes had a segment on a few years ago about a guy who taught boxing to Mohammed Ali and George Foreman.

I’m trying to understand the concept of the conversation. They’re probably just doing a bio on a guy and talking about how he got started as a boxer, transitioned from boxer to trainer, his life, yada-yada. But, what really bothered me was a physical tick he had with his head. He kept cocking it over to the right when he was talking.

I told my husband, “This guy acts like he’s had a few hits to the head, doesn’t he?”

Dave looks at me with a dead-panned face. “He has Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Happy now?”

Whoops. I didn’t hear about that tiny medical detail.


When I’m naturally deaf and talk to my husband, I need to tone down the decibel level. Obviously, you can’t hear yourself speak when your deaf, so you naturally just start kicking your voice up a notch. When he tries to talk to me without my hearing, we have some amusing conversations. We don’t know ASL, so we have our own sign language. Dave does a lot of hand puppets and pantomime, which is ironic since he hates Mimes.

He’ll mouth a word to me which I don’t understand and then the guessing games start.

Me: “You’re going to the store…and?”

Dave is moving his mouth.

Me: “Going to get pancakes?”

Dave shakes his head no.

Me: “Going to punch a steak?”

Dave getting agitated, still shakes his head no. At this point in the game I know I’ll only get one more guess before he either writes it down, or just shakes his head and walks away.


Dave points to his nose. Well, done Grasshopper. 

Whenever I guess something correctly, it makes me happy–like I’ve found an unexpected toy at the bottom of my Ben and Jerry’s ice cream container. (Sidenote: Ben and Jerry’s ice cream containers are too small.)

Ah – small victories.

If I hadn’t guessed it, it would have been another conversation that had been killed–murdered beyond any grammar recognition and unidentifiable by DNA technology.

I adjust my cochlear device for certain situations, but sometimes it doesn’t always work, so when I’m often with a lot of people, I’ll just nod my head and agree. Nodding your head in agreement about something, especially when you’re speaking to your 21-year-old son, is not a habit you want to start. You also don’t want to nod in agreement when you’re stuck in a dark alley with a bunch of gang members. The same can be said when you’re in jail and share a prison cell with a murderer-pedophile, interpreting a meeting between North and South Korean Ambassadors, or doing a television ad for adult diapers.

I’m working on trying to not talk over others and kill a conversation because I don’t know what half of it is about. I now ask my husband to fill me in on conversations, or just come right out and ask, “What are you talking about so I can try to kill the conversation?”










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