Last night I was eating at Baja Fresh at approximately 8pm. While enjoying my grilled veggie burrito, the door opened, and in walked two scantily clad young women and young guy with very floppy hair. They seemed to be dressed inappropriately for the place, the time, and their apparent age. I became transfixed on them for the rest of my meal. I did not meet these people, but here is the conversation I had with the platinum blonde girl (she appeared to be the ring leader).

ME: Forgive me for being so forward, but I have some questions I would like you to ask you.

BLONDIE: Are you a cop?

ME: No. Just a curious citizen.

BLONDIE: Buy me a quesadilla and you can ask me whatever you want.

ME: Done.

(After buying her a quesadilla AND a soda, we resumed our conversation)

ME: First question – how old are you?


ME: Not possible. You look like you could maybe be 19, but your friends over there look 16 tops. Seriously? 23?

BLONDIE: Fine. 22.

ME: Second question - what the heck are you doing in a Baja Fresh at 8pm on a Tuesday night dressed like you’re going out to a club looking to get laid?

BLONDIE: I’m getting some food before I go out to a club and try to get laid.

ME: Oh. That makes sense then. You know I thought I had more questions, but I don’t. Just those two.

BLONDIE: So can I go now?

ME: Wait. I thought of another one. Did you know that your dress is so short that I can almost see your who-ha?

BLONDIE: Yes. I did know that. Sexy huh?

ME: Well. Considering I thought you were about 16 years old a few minutes ago. Not really.

BLONDIE: What do you know? You’re some lame old guy.

ME: Hey. I’m only 28. Plus, how do you know I’m lame? I mean I am. But what gave me away?

BLONDIE: You just have that look about you.

ME: I just figured out who you remind me of. There was this girl in college that had that exact same platinum blonde hair color. It’s so blonde it’s practically white.

BLONDIE: This is natural.

ME: No it’s not. She also listened to Cher. She had a whole album of remixes of that one Cher song – Believe.

BLONDIE: I love that song.

ME: Of course you do. Enjoy the quesadilla. Use a condom.




My friend sent me a description of a woman she recently noticed while walking the streets of NYC. She requested that I have a fake conversation with this woman, and after reading the description I was happy to oblige.

On a cold winter’s day In NYC, a woman approximately 72 years in age walked briskly down the street. She was wearing a fur coat, an extremely large fur hat, and a fur muff around her hands. Hanging from the muff were a set of bells that jingled with every step. I did not meet this woman, but here is the conversation we had while strolling on 5th Avenue.

ME: Is that fake fur?

FUR LADY: If I say yes, do you promise not to throw blood on me?

ME: So it’s real.

FUR LADY: It’s sloth.

ME: Sloth? They make sloth fur coats, hats, and muffs?

FUR LADY: Well they are extremely slow animals. So it’s not hard to catch them.

ME: I’m surprised you could sneak up on them while you’re jingling like that. I figured it was like one of those bells you put on your cat so they can’t kill birds.

FUR LADY: I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re looking for.

ME: I’m not looking for money. Are you looking for money? I thought you might be a Salvation Army volunteer. You know – with the bell and all.

FUR LADY: Very funny.

ME: What do you call that kind of hat anyway? It’s huge – like a fur sombrero.

FUR LADY: What do you call those ears? They’re huge – like a human Dumbo.

ME: I do have big ears, don’t I?

FUR LADY: It’s not so much the size. But they do stick out. Have you ever thought of going Van Gogh on those suckers? Maybe not the whole ear, but at least part of it.

ME: Hmmm. You know I hadn’t. But now I am.

FUR LADY: Consider it.

ME: Do they make fur underwear?

FUR LADY: Are you inquiring about a 72 year old woman’s knickers?

ME: Apparently I am.

FUR LADY: Some things are better left a mystery.

ME: Suppose they did make fur underwear…what would be the best animal to make it out of?

FUR LADY: Gerbil.

ME: Those would be some small undies.

FUR LADY: You’re a fresh one. I like you. Want to accompany me to the pet store?

ME: Hold on. I just have to vomit first.



After shopping for ingredients for last night’s dinner, I went to the checkout aisle to checkout. The man who was placing my items into my reusable bags was very loud and didn’t seem to realize that he was in fact working at that very moment. As I waited for all of my items to be scanned, he looked at me like he knew me. I did not meet this man, but here is the conversation we had in the checkout aisle at Gelson’s.

BAGGER: Your wife is hot.
ME: My wife isn’t here.

BAGGER: Oh I know. But you come here all the time. I’ve seen you here with her before. She’s hot.
ME: I’m not sure whether to say thank you, report you to the manager, or punch you in the nose. Since I have no idea how to punch someone without hurting my hand, I’m going to go ahead and ignore you.

BAGGER: Settle down partner. It’s a compliment. So I get off at 10. You want to hit the strip club or what?
ME: Please don’t talk to me.
BAGGER: Have you ever killed a man?
ME: No. But I once maimed someone for crushing my raspberries. Please don’t put them underneath the bag of onions.

BAGGER: I beat the shit out of this guy one time in an alley. Left him for dead. Don’t know if he actually died or not. So if anyone asks me if I killed someone, I can’t actually answer with 100% accuracy.
ME: Do you get asked that a lot?

BAGGER: See that check out guy over there? The one with the comb-over. He peed his pants the other day. Just stood there and took a leak.
ME: Cleanup aisle 7.

BAGGER: People thought is was apple juice.
ME: He needs to hydrate then.

BAGGER: Sometimes I steal people’s dogs. Not because they are barking or annoying or anything. Just because I think it’s funny.
ME: I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get one of those giant sticks of salami from the deli case and beat you over the head with it.

BAGGER: I’ve got a great story about a salami stick. So I’m at a party and I see this chick over by the bar…

ME: I do not like where this is going.



While flying from the beautiful Garden State to Los Angeles (connecting through Vegas) I sat next to a man for approximately 5 hours. He was in the aisle and I was in the middle. We were in the bulkhead row, so I did not have to climb over him to use the restroom, as there is ample legroom. I did not meet this man, but here is the conversation we had about 10 minutes before the flight landed.

ME: Excuse me.

ME: Sorry to disturb you. I was just wondering if you thought it odd that we have been sitting next to each other for almost 5 hours and have yet to say a word to each other.
AISLE: Now that you mention it. I suppose it is a bit odd,

ME: I mean our arms touched several times. Our legs touched several times. I reached in front of you to dispose of my trash. Yet we haven’t spoken.
AISLE: I was actually wondering about that. Were you touching me on purpose? Were you coming on to me?

ME: Don’t you think if I were coming on to you I would have attempted to strike up a conversation with you at some point?
AISLE: Isn’t that what you are doing right now?

ME: I wasn’t coming on to you. In fact, I was rather annoyed with you. You were using both armrests. This is my armrest.
AISLE: That’s not your armrest. I sat down first. First come first serve.

ME: Not true. That is poor plane etiquette and a popular misconception. This is the armrest that has my headphone jack. That makes it my armrest. You can’t lean where I plug in my headphones.
AISLE: So I just get the one on the aisle?

ME: Yes. That is the disadvantage of the aisle. You don’t have to ask people to move, so you get one armrest. The window is stuck behind two people. Therefore, they get both an armrest and the side of the plane to lean against. You have to balance everything out.
AISLE: Sorry about that then.

ME: It’s ok.
AISLE: May I ask you a question?

ME: Yes.
AISLE: Were you not hitting on me because you aren’t gay or because you didn’t find me attractive?

ME: Because I’m not gay. It has nothing to do with the fact that you aren’t attractive.
AISLE: Ouch.

ME: The truth hurts. Now get off my armrest.
AISLE: It’s a good thing we didn’t have this conversation 4 hours ago. The rest of the flight would have been really awkward.

ME: I think the proximity and silence were already sufficiently awkward.
AISLE: You really don’t think I’m attractive?

ME: You’re right. This is more awkward.