I play banjo in a bluegrass band called the Duck Hunters.  Recently I was at a music festival, chatting with a guy, and I mentioned the band.  “You can find us on Facebook,” I said.

He pulled out his phone and started searching for the band by name.  He was having trouble and he handed the phone over to me.  “You find it,” he said.

I struggled a bit as well.  The phone was an ancient iPhone 4 with a tiny keyboard.  I fat-fingered the name a few times.  Absent mindedly I said, “I keep typing in ‘dick hunters’.’”

He and his wife laughed uproariously.  The guy said, “Gimme that phone,” and he took it back.

“I’m gonna start hearing from every gay porn site in Colorado,” he complained, still chuckling.