I knew a radio psychic. It was an act. He knew what to tell callers to sound credible. Most calls were hits but a few bombed. When that happened, off air, he and his co-host exchanged looks and said "gutterball!"
We had a mini party at work. I chatted with some friends, then worked my way to the tortilla chips and salsa. Some strangers stood nearby, one joking loudly about some "f*@!ing" thing that was drove him nuts.
"You said the F-word!" I teased. This shtick worked among friends. They'd drop profanity and I'd react in mock indignation. The childish nature of the observation (compared to, say "Geez, you talk like a sailor") made it clear I wasn't serious. Or did it?
He shot me a Huh? What's wrong with you!? look.
"I was kidding," I assured, touching his forearm to prove I was friendly. It was like touching a mannequin. "Just fooling with ya!" . No smile, no laugh, no "Dang, for a moment I thought you were serious."
I'm not the best body language reader, but his message was clear:
What the f*@! is your problem and why the f*@! are you touching my arm? Freak! His friends stared like I was a leper, a vibe I hadn't gotten since junior high .