I should explain. My two best friends for the longest time were Army brats. Born and raised in various European countries, they learned "the Queen's English". Their conversation has a definite British twang to it, that I've learned to somewhat disregard. Even though it is faint, it still comes out at some of the most awkward times.
D, my male friend, and I were walking down the street one night after a cocktail reception for a music recital of his. I was wearing a dress, and he was of course dressed in a tux.
Here was the conversation that ensued.
D: It's a bit chilly tonight. Isn't it A?
Me: You think you're cold. At least you're wearing pants!
D, ever proper looked at me an turned a deep shade of burgundy (I've been told he can do this quickly because of his Irish heritage). I looked at him quizically, and he seemed to snap to reality.
Well, he explained to me, in England, pants are underwear...which are knickers, which are decidedly not trousers. In his mind, in the midst of children and drunken men I had just announced (rather loudly), that I was going commando. Which I wasn't.
Ah...wishful thinking much D? I think so. =)
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