Me: I tell you, when I watch how quickly Ashley pours drinks and opens bottles, how she seems to have this natural rhythm with the whole thing, I can't help thinking about what she's like in bed.
Ashley: You know, Nate, there are some thoughts you can keep to yourself.
Me: And I guess that would be one of them?
Ashley: It amazes me that you finished college.
Me: So it turns out that Bunni plagiarized that column she guest-wrote.
Carla: Oh No. I had such high hopes for her. She was my little stripper with a heart of gold.
Me: And it hurts me just thinking that I'll never get to see you two make out.
Carla: Not as much as it hurts me.
Random Dude: Here you are.
Me: What the hell is this? Dianetics? Stress test? Hey motherfucker, do I look stressed to you?
Random Dude: Well, stress isn't always obvious in appearance?
Six: Whatever, man. You handed him the flyer. You must think he's high strung or something.
Random Dude: I have to give them to everyone that walks by. It's nothing personal.
Me: Well, it's about to get personal.
Six: Man, mellow out. You can't be killing nobody in the mall.
Me: You got lucky, Stress Test Boy.
Six: That was funny as hell. You see the look on that poor dude's face?
Me: The best part was when you said I shouldn't kill anyone. I swear he took a dump right there.
Six: That'll teach motherfuckers to be handing out flyers.
Me: Yeah, dude. We're here to help.
Ryan: Man, what you doing?
Me: I'm writing.
Ryan: Writing what?
Me: A book.
Ryan: Man, ain't nobody gonna read that.
Me: Thanks, man. Thanks a lot.
Bill: How come no one else on that site posts as often as you do?
Me: They probably prefer quality over quantity or something.
Bill: The fools.
Mark: I think they should give married couples a huge tax break.
Mark: Well, I mean, why the hell else would I get married? Love?
Me: That's messed up right there, dude.