Back in college, when I was a wee vanilla thing, a friend described safewords to me as “the thing you say to get out of an uncomfortable or distressing situation.” I assumed they meant conversationally, and promptly established my own conversational safeword: toast.
The rule was that if I started talking about toast, then you all had to follow suit. Over the years, this came in very handy in a number of situations, and I became very adept at shifting the topic suddenly from dangerous territory to the relatively secure subject matter of well-heated grain products.
Being a social creature, my friends and I often ran into people who weren’t aware of my conversational safeword. Some immediately understand, while others would obstinately stick to a dangerous topic despite many concerted efforts to start talking toast. One particularly memorable occasion of this sort of thing, it turned out that by “Do you like bagels?” what my friends really meant was, “She’s standing right behind you.” When she heard the (rather impolite) things he was saying about her, she gracefully handled the situation by interrupting him with, “Oh, you simply have to go talk to [Master So’N’So] about toast! Tell him that I told you to ask him, and you’ll be amazed at the story he tells you.”
From that point on, it became something of a game, for my friends to avoid dealing with the uncouth by sending them my way with a secret message to keep this person occupied for as long as possible with innocuous topics. As is the manner of long running games, it soon became a question of exactly how long could I manage to keep talking about trivial banalities like “what sort of jam do you prefer? Does it matter if you’re eating that on wheat bread?”
One memorable party a few years later, I managed to discuss various methods of using bread to perform divination magic for an epic *seven hours straight.* We called it Toastology, and I declared myself to be the World’s Leading Toastologist and foremost Toastomancer.
About a month later, someone gifted me with the domain name, toastology.com, as a memorial of that strange night.
Since then, Toastology.com has been used to document a variety of personal side projects. It fell by the wayside when I discovered my current IRL career, and several years later, I had started teaching classes in the kink community and needed a website. I realized that the toastology.com website had been hacked years ago and all my files had been turned into links to porn. I cleaned out the mess, and set up my educator website.
Also, this exists: