Once upon a time, Lise and I were teenagers, mere babes in the woods (emphasis on the "babes" part). As such, part of our job description included attending slumber parties and drinking enough Mountain Dew to make ourselves giddy for days afterward. At one such gathering, we had weathered the night and were in the throes of getting ready to leave in the morning. Lise stood in front of me before the mirror, applying deodorant. I or someone else behind her asked her to pass it along. To comply, she stretched a hand back without looking. I chose that exact moment to speak and ended up with an Oreo-sized clot of Ban solid jammed behind and between my front teeth. The taste was horrendous, but I had fresh breath for the rest of the day.
I also seem to recall a similar incident involving our friend Ms. Mitz. We were at a track meet, watching some of the young men on our team compete. I asked for what she was holding, she handed it toward me without turning, and I got a snootful of suntan lotion. Again, not quite what I had in mind, but the inside of my nose didn't sunburn, either.
Moral of the stories: Sometimes it pays to keep your mouth shut.