Some graffiti is awesome.
A horrible Hanukkah present or the global Jewish conspiracy.
Either way, pretty weird.
Sharingtime orders Japanese food
Me: I'll have the avocado handroll, please.
Waitress (apropos of nothing): Have you ever had a handroll?
I start to wonder where this question came from, so I decide to make her feel horrible about herself.
Me: I don't know. I did live in Japan for three years. Does that answer your question?
Waitress: Oh, I'm sorry. Where in Japan?
Me: Ha! Oh, you know. Japan. The part with the Jews.
Waitress: Jewtown. Of course.
Me: Yeah. Duh.
Waitress: There is no Jewtown. I made that up. That's incredibly racist for you to think there was such a place.
Me: It is not! There are Chinatowns all over the country!
Waitress: Yes, but there are no Jewtowns.
Me: How do you know that?
Waitress: Because I do. Having lived in Japan for six years.
Me: Yeah? Where'd you live?
Waitress: Waitressyo.
Me: You could've said Tokyo. You went with Waitressyo.
Waitress: South Waitressyo if you want to get specific.
Me: I'm incredibly attracted to you right now.
Waitress: I can't explain why, but I feel the same way.
Me: Let's get out of here.
Waitress: Sure. You've never had a hand roll before, have you?
Me: I thought I was ordering a complicated handjob.
The more you know…
Fun fact I learned yesterday from an old newspaper article: many prisoners purposely use more toilet paper than they need to waste the state’s money.
If they really wanted to waste the state’s money, they should try to get busted as a non-violent drug offender. That’ll teach the state!
Saw this last night. Run, don’t walk, to your nearest movie theater.
So many things to think about when the movie’s over! None of which I will discuss here because I’m tired, y’all. Ok, I’ll write about one thing very briefly. If the girl behind you in the theater consistently kicks your friend’s seat for the second half of the film because your friend told her to stop talking loudly, next time get up from your seat, turn around and announce to the theater that this poor woman’s leg is having a seizure and she requires medical attention. Then immediately say, “Good thing I’m a doctor!” and swiftly throw a cup of water in her face. Then announce that the water has cured her seizure and continue watching the documentary.
You should see the movie for real though. Just don’t see it in Boulder and sit in front of that woman.
Emails I have/have not sent
Email I have not sent
Hey baby,
Sorry to hear about your UTI. Or rather, my dick apologizes for FUCKIN YOU SO HARD and giving you that UTI. Am I right? Oh man. We gotta go back to that club next weekend. $800 bottles of Grey Goose ain’t shit. Remember when I said that?!?!?! HA. Good times!
Call me when you get out of work so WE CAN FUCK ALL NIGHT. HAHA. Remember when you said that to me?!?!?! But seriously, call me. Inside jokes abound in this bitch!
Lee
Email I have sent
Hey,
I’m sorry. For everything. Especially when I drunkenly said, “I wanna fuck you so hard I’ll give you a UTI” and then pointed at my dick. I realize now that the pointing was unnecessary, as it was clear I was referring to having intercourse with you using my penis. And I had no idea that at the time you were on the phone with your boyfriend. I’m not blaming your hands free headset, but I’m not not blaming it either. I also didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.
I’m also sorry for when I did the pointing motion to my genitals that I knocked the bottle of Snapple out of your hand. I swear that when I get a job (my uncle’s company is super desperate to find people to clean bathrooms at the abandoned gas station he pretends he owns) that I’ll pay you back right away. I’m just kinda low on funds right now. I know you really like Snapple, so if things work out and I get that bathroom gig, I’ll try to buy you two of them.
Your boyfriend seems like a cool guy. We should all hang out sometime when he’s not threatening to kill me.
Lee
I loved this book. I read it at the same time as Samantha Bee’s book, which I also enjoyed, but it became immediately clear that while they’re both funny, Crosley’s a writer. You know what I mean? The laughs are earned. She always tries to make a greater point in her stories.
The reason I loved this, as opposed to just liking it, was the last story. I won’t ruin it for those who will eventually read the book, but it’s the best thing she’s written. If you have a half-hour with time to kill in a Barnes & Noble, I’d recommend flipping to this story and reading it.
I’d give this book a Pitchforkian 8.6 and a Best New Book pick.
How it came to be that I ate my first pulled pork sandwich
We had an hour dinner break at the conference on Saturday. I was waiting in line for 20 minutes. I was starving.
I finally get to the front of the line.
“I’ll have a veggie burger, please,” I said.
“The grill’s busted. All we have is pulled pork.”
“I’ll have a pulled pork sandwich, please.”
You can’t get my respect unless you earn it. And the only way my bus driver can earn it is by allowing me to throw my bus fare in his face without striking me. Seems we’ve reached a bit of an impasse, sign.
poofy asked: Do you miss NYC? Whats one of the best things to do? I just moved here yesterday.
I don’t miss living there, no. You’ve made a horrible mistake.
(Kidding. I miss the people. And the culture. And the baked goods. I’d recommend going to the roof of the Met and getting a drink at the bar up there while it’s still summer.)
