Mr. W called me yesterday as I was driving to meet my parents for dinner.

W: We haven’t caught any fish. It turns out we’re really sucky fishermen.
Me: Oh, that’s too bad. Was it just a bad fishing day? I mean, was anyone else catching fish?
W: It didn’t look like it. There were a bunch of orcas swimming through and I have about 70 photos of that. But the people here kept complaining about the orcas and saying they’re scaring the fish away. So I’m sorry, there may not be any fish to bring back home.
Me: That’s okay. WAIT a minute. Are you just setting it up so that if I wonder why your fish box is empty and you’re not bringing any fish home, you can say you already told me that there weren’t any fish to catch?
W: I knew you were going to say that. I saw your post about Brokeback Mountain and I read that to [his “fishing” partner]. And I talked to Madame, of Madame’s Manor. I told her that my girlfriend was looking at the website and she thinks we’re doing a Brokeback Mountain guy thing because of the pictures of the rooms that’s on the website, even tho that’s nothing like the place we’re staying in. Where are those rooms? And she took me on a tour to those rooms and they’re really really nice. She said, “Oh, and you can bring your girlfriend and stay here when you come back!”
Me: WAIT a minute. Are you just setting it up so if I do go to that bed & breakfast and wonder why you’re so familiar with the room, you can say it was because Madame showed you the room when you were thinking of bringing me there, and it wasn’t because you ACTUALLY stayed in there with [“fishing” partner]?
W: Ha, ha. I have photographic evidence of every place I’ve been to.

I wonder what a photo of his friend’s ass would look like.