Last week, we had a work picnic and my colleague A and I were trying to be good seeds and put up the volleyball net, along with a member of our staff. Turns out, those things are not the simple unpack-and-use items I thought they were. We decided to, ahem, read the directions. And it goes a little something like this:

Jenn: Let’s look at the directions. Let’s “go to the books”, as they say in ‘The Godfather.’

A: Um, I think that was, ‘Let’s go to the mattresses.’ Yeah, it was definitely ‘Let’s go to the mattresses.

Jenn: Oh. Um. Oh.
Laughter ensues on everyone’s part, except the confused staff member who has not seen this movie, yet is smiling politely anyway.

Jenn: God, that movie would’ve had such a different outcome, had they gone to the books, right? I mean, really. Also, I’m a moron. And a terrible Italian.

A: Hey, where did THIS cord come from?, motioning to yellow mystery cord with attached lawn spike. A smooth transition, indeed.

Looks like even I’m not immune to overconfident misquotations. Maybe I should get into politics.