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I have this pet peeve. Actually, I have several (doesn't everyone?), but there's one above all others that has the greatest chance to get me in trouble. It's a little hard to summarize, so I'll be verbose about it.

Say, for example, I'm in the same room as someone else, and we're both reading. The following conversational snippet is absolutely guaranteed to drive me absolutely insane, if repeated often enough:

Random Person Not Intended To Be Any One Person But Rather An Amalgam Of A Whole Lot Of People: (reading) "Ha! That's great!"

Matt: (looking up) "Hmm? What's that?"

RPNITBAOPBRAAOAWLOP: "Oh, nothing. Just something in my book"

Okay, look. Laughing is fine. I don't mind laughing. Laugh until you rupture something. I don't care. However, once you've commented on whatever you're reading ("That's great!"), it's now rude for me to just ignore you, and I have to somehow respond to your comment ("What's that?"). For you to just shrug off my question as if I had asked about something completely trivial, something you couldn't have imagined my asking about, something so inconsequential that your can't bother to pull yourself from your book, then don't. Comment. On. It.

If exposed to repetitions of this long enough, my brainwaves begin to resemble those of John Wayne Gacy. You have all been warned.

But that's not really the sum total of the pet peeve. If I had to try to summarize it, it'd be something like "Being expected, or somehow obligated to comment on something despite the fact that no real request for commentary has been stated, but commentary is still expected or required."

For example, the following conversational snippet is perfectly fine with me, and would leave me as happy as a clam:

RPNITBAOPBRAAOAWLOP: "What do you think of my new hat?"

Matt: "It's blue."

Some of you can see where this is going now. I'll elaborate for everyone who wasn't there.

While Braz was in town, we decided to go to the Outback for dinner. Jeremy, Braz, and I all got there first, and the girls (who had been out shopping) took a while to get there. When they did arrive, I could see that Kris and Liz were wearing these... hat-like objects. I had this mini-flash of prophecy, and I knew that my peeve was going to be invoked, and I would be expected to comment on the hat without it actually being requested (but it would still be expected).

I quickly turned to Braz and Jeremy. What I should have said was, "Don't say anything about the hats until they ask for an opinion." But, no. What I said was an abbreviation of that sentence, "Don't say anything about the hats." They sort of nodded (marginally confused looks mixed with mischievous grins on their faces), and we waited for the girls to get out of the car and come over.

Kris, Liz, and Karen came over (Karen had abstained from the hat-craze), and Kris and Liz came over at Braz and I and looked up at us. We said appropriate greetings, gave the appropriate wife a hug and a smooch, and asked if they wanted anything while we were waiting. They kept looking at us. I could feel the thoughts pounding at me. Ask about the hat. Ask about the hat. Say something about the hat. HAT! We continued to make polite chit-chat. They ordered some alcohol.

After a while Kris did ask Braz about the hat. And, at that point, if I had been clear with what I had been thinking, Braz could have told Kris that he thought it was lovely, it was cute, whatever. Braz, however, stuck to what I had said (foolish me), and kissed his wife on the cheek. Well, what am I supposed to do? Just let Braz hang himself out to dry by himself? So I refrained from commentary on the hats, too.

In the end, of course, it all fell apart. Braz quietly confessed to Kris that it was all my idea. I think it cemented my subtitle of "No Help At All" in her head. :-) She told me I was a meanie. I agreed with her. And, in the end, I told Liz what I thought about the hat... I really didn't like it very much.

And you think I got in trouble by not stating an opinion...