Occasionally, Sir and I like to pop open a bottle of snazzy Ballatore Asti. I call it Asti Spumanti, in a fake Italian accent. We like the bubblies. It helps with our monogamous pants-dropping later. One night, Sir brought home a bottle to enjoy with some equally snazzy movies (probably something super like "Black Sheep"), and he, doing the honors for I am mildly dumb, prepared to pour us some delicious adult beverages. Sitting in my living room, I was close enough for him to ask me from the kitchen, "Want a mushroom?" Without thinking, I responded with enthusiasm, "Sure!" and immediately popped what he threw at me in my mouth.
Ladies and gentlemen, I tell you now so that someday when I am running for President it can't be brought up against me because you knew all along: we didn't even HAVE mushrooms in our house.
The worst of it is, the next time we had bubblies, he asked and I responded, again. This time I was smart enough to stop myself in time from putting the cork in my mouth. But only JUST.