Here's a snippet of an actual conversation I recently had with a friend (who will remain nameless unless she wants to out herself, which I doubt after she reads the post):
Nameless Friend: What do you hate more than anything?
LAB: Digital watches.
NF: No, what do you *really* hate more than anything.
LAB: I guess the only thing I hate more than digital watches is the Oxford comma.
LAB: Stop saying no. You asked me what I hate the most and I told you. You don't get to tell me I'm wrong.
NF: No what do you really, really, really hate most of all.
LAB: Seriously? OK, I guess it's men who wear sleeveless shirts on airplanes and then sit next to you and rub their underarm hair all over your shoulder.
NF: Gross. And nope.
LAB: You're obviously trying to tell me a story about something I hate. Can you just get on with it?
NF: No. You're ruining it.
LAB: How am I ruining it? You're asking. I'm answering. We're conversing. Tell the damn story.
NF: Forget it.
LAB: Are we even speaking the same language? Is this what people feel like when they're talking to me? I don't like this feeling. Is that what I hate most of all?
NF: No. God. Never mind.
LAB: But what do I hate most of all?
NF: Not telling.