Twenty questions - the DxieChick way

I'm pretty sure that at this point we all know that I can be an idiot at times. And, honestly, "at times" might even be an understatement, as it doesn't take much for me to show that earning a PhD doesn't mean I actually know anything, y'know? Like just yesterday, when a friend suggested I use "rice" for an old knee injury that's playing up again, I said, "Hm. Rice. Can't say I've ever tried that, but OK.", to which my friend could only grin and reply, "Sweetie, Rice stands for Rest Icing Compression and Elevation." Oh.

So anyway, my lack of common knowledge (such as which jumper cable goes on which side of the battery, even if they're color coded) tends to especially come to the fore during board games. Playing Apples to Apples with me makes most people feel as though they've ended up in a post-structuralist French play, and I have managed to turn a game of Monopoly into an in-depth discussion of the pros and cons of the Western capitalist economy.

And then sometimes I surprise everyone by not even understanding the most basic principles of very, very simple game.

Two nights ago, husband-dear and I were watching a re-run of the show The Big Bang Theory (note: if anyone of you has ever wondered what's it like to live with a child who has Asperger's, Sheldon is for real). On this show, for whatever reason, the characters referenced the game 20 questions. This game used to be quite popular in our family, when the kids were younger, and since we hadn't played in a while, and I was pretty much delirious with fatigue, I said to husband-dear, "We should so play that game"
"Really?"
(I am usually not known for my love of games).
"Yeah, it'll be fun."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, come on, let's play twenty questions. I pick something, you guess."
"OK".

For your merriment, right after we finished the game, I transcribed part of our conversation. Read it, enjoy, and understand why it's a good thing I have a degree to prove that I'm not a complete idiot.

Husband-dear: Is it an object?
Me: Yes
Husband- dear: Is it bigger than a breadbox?
Me: Hmm. Well it can be.
Husband-dear (pauses): Wait. What? No, that's not an option!
Me: Yes it is.
Husband-dear: (glares)
Me: Well, are we talking about one specific object, or a category of objects?
Husband-dear: (raises his eyebrows)
Me: OK, OK, fine, a specific object. How big is your breadbox?
Husband-dear: Oh God. A shoebox. A New Balance size 12 shoebox. Is it bigger than that?
Me: Well, are talking cumulative size, you know, length plus depth plus height, or exact dimensions?
Husband-dear: O. M. G. It's a kids' game!

I think he was just mad 'cause he couldn't guess I was thinking of my purse. Really.