Saturday, May 25, 2019
My wife has this thing she does. If I ever make a mistake in telling a story, she steps in and immediately corrects me. It does not matter if the “mistake” has any effect on the story, she just has to correct me.
“I can’t believe what some jerk did today when I was making a turn on Washington Street. I had just…”
“OK, Washington AVENUE, as if it matters.”
She does not do it to show me up, or to ruin a story, she just can not help herself. I call it being Trebek’d.
Alex Trebek is the host of the TV show “Jeopardy.” He is a very good quiz show moderator; except he does have a way about making contestants feel stupid.
Often a contestant will buzz in and guess at the answer.
When he is wrong, Alex cannot just say no, he has to throw in additional facts to make him look stupid.
“This Planet is the furthest from the Sun.”
BZZZZ “What is Pluto?”
“Oh no! Pluto is not even a planet.”
“This author from Baltimore was known for macabre stories.”
BZZZ “Who is Steven King?”
“Oh no! King is not from Baltimore, and it is Stephen, not Steven.”
Hence, whenever Mrs. C corrects me mid story, I say she Trebek’d me.
The other night she tried to pull a fast one.
She allowed me to finish a story where I got the day wrong. I said Tuesday when I should have said Wednesday. When I was finished, she said,
“I want credit.”
“Credit for what?”
“I could have Trebek’d you because you said Tuesday instead of Wednesday, but I let it go.”
“Oh yeah, thanks for…wait a minute, you just Trebek’d me by taking credit for not Trebeking me!”
“No, I didn’t interrupt.”
“But you still corrected me, you just delayed the correction, that is a delayed Trebek!”
“Well it was still Wednesday, and you’re a jerk!”