Random stuff I overheard:

I overheard this conversation between a guy and a girl on the train yesterday:

Guy – You know, you remind me of a girl I used to date.

Girl – Oh, really?

Guy – Yeah. You look just like her – you’re bigger,, but other than that, you look just like her.

Girl – (confused)

Guy – You’re definitely bigger though.

**

I was crossing an alley this afternoon and witnessed a robbery in progress, this is what I overheard:

Robber – Give me your wallet!

Guy – (shaking with fear, quickly hands over his wallet)

Robber – And the cell phone, give me your cell phone.

Guy – Aw come on, you’re not going to be able to use it, and it’s got all of my phone numbers

Robber – (cocks his gun) Give me the motherfucking cell phone!

Guy – (hands over his iPhone) Ok, ok

Robber – (Points his gun at a cup in the guy’s hand) What’s that?

Guy – What’s what?

Robber – Motherfucker, what’s in your hand!?

Guy – (speaking quickly and stuttering) It’s, it’s a cup, it’s Starbucks,

Robber – You tryin to be smart with me motherfucker!?! I can see that it’s Starbucks!

Guy – Huh? Huh? Whwhwh what do you want?

Robber – What’s IN the cup!?!?

Guy– Uh, uh, it’s it’s a vanilla latte,,, a skinny vanilla latte

Robber – Is there any soy milk in that shit?

Guy – Huh? Soy milk? Uhhh, no. I mean, I don’t think so.

Robber – Give it to me.

Guy – What?

Robber – Give me the motherfucking latte!

Guy – (hesitates out of fear of making a sudden movement)

Robber – Do you wanna die for that latte?

Guy – (begins to regain his composure) Aw come on man, you’re gonna kill me for a latte?

Robber – (hesitates for a moment) I’m gonna kill you for a latte because you just asked whether I’d kill you for a latte!

Guy – Come on man, there’s over $100 and two credit cards in my wallet, you can buy yourself a latte!

Robber – (Points the gun at the guy’s head and speaks slowly) But I want your latte.

Guy – Fuck you man. Go ahead, kill me for the fucking latte.

Robber – (presses the barrel of the gun against the guy’s head) What did you just say to me?

Guy – …

Robber – Motherfucker I will shoot you if you don’t give me that latte right now, how does that sound?

Guy – Go ahead then, shoot me.

Robber – (breathing harder, pauses for a second and then closes his eyes in thought)

Guy – Are you gonna do it or not?

Robber – (fires the gun and kills the guy instantly)

(the guy falls to the ground)

Robber – Fuck!

(nudges the body with his foot to make sure he's dead)

Robber – (shaking his head and whispering to himself) Stupid, stupid…

Robber – (panics, readies himself to run, but stops and looks around for witnesses; then starts to walk away but notices the latte beginning to spill on the ground)

Robber – (quickly looks around, then whispers) Shit.

Robber – (pauses and then quickly picks up what’s left of the latte and takes a sip)

Robber – (purses his lips together and takes another sip)

Robber – (tilts his head a little to the right, gently nods in approval and shrugs)

(A sizzling sound breaks the silence. Steam begins to rise from the ground as the guy’s warm brain oozes onto the cold pavement.)

Robber – (takes his own cell phone out of his pocket, makes a call, and waits for an answer)

Robber – (into the phone) Ok, do you want the good news or the bad news?

**

I work in an office with 30 other contract attorneys. The other office on our floor is some kind of sales/publishing company (I’m not sure what they do: the word “publishing” is in their title, but when I hear the people from their office discussing work, they’re usually talking about “making their numbers.”)

I was walking to the bathroom last week and noticed one of the single guys from my office approach one of the girls from the publishing company. This was the conversation I overheard:

Guy – Hey, do you work in the office next door?

Girl – Yeah,

Guy – Oh wow, I would have never guessed. I mean, I just assumed that a girl who looks like you would be a supermodel, or an actress, or a porn star…

Girl – (confused silence)

(I continued walking past them and towards the bathroom)

Guy – … or a bartender or hostess at a nightclub, or a small town news anchor, or a model for a car stereo magazine or maybe a low-rider magazine…

Girl – (confused silence)

(I went into the bathroom and took a leak and washed my hands and then came out)

Guy – … or working boat shows, or stripping, or selling pharmaceuticals, or giving full body massages…

Girl – (confused silence)

Guy – … or fuck it, even hooking, or something, anything that involves your looks.

Girl – (confused silence and almost looks offended)

Guy – So listen, you wanna grab a drink after work today?

Girl – (confused silence)

Guy – is that a yes?

Girl – What time do you get off work?

Guy – 5:00

Girl – I’ll meet you here at 5:01

**

On the bus:

Guy – (to a girl who just got on the bus and stood in front of him) Has anyone ever told you that you look like Roseanne, from that TV show in the ‘90’s?

**

In a steakhouse:

Waitress – (to a man who just ordered a steak) And how would you like that steak cooked sir?

Man – Room temperature is fine.

Waitress – I’m sorry sir?

Man – Would you mind taking it out of the refrigerator now so that it gets up to room temperature before I eat it. I don’t like cold steak.

A Drunken Walrus: The Case Against Free Will

In March of 2005, ten of us spent our spring break in a four-bedroom beachfront condo in Destin, Florida.

Our first morning, we packed a football, frisbee, boogie board, books, and two gallons of margaritas and spent a day on the beach that was punctuated by my realization that it is possible to enjoy the outdoors between the hours of 9 am and noon. I had always assumed those hours were reserved for work, class, or sleep.

Later that night we drank some more and ate a big home-cooked meal and were about to go to a local piano bar when we noticed that Walrus was especially drunk. All of us had been drinking, but it was clear that Walrus had been drinking the most.

But no one was especially concerned because Walrus is a relatively safe drunk. Unlike some of our other friends, we don’t have to worry about a drunken Walrus getting into a fight, or slapping a woman’s ass, or throwing up in public, or somewhat homo-erotically explaining the virtues of Brett Favre to every man in the bar and then trying to get one of those men to come back to his room and watch “Favre Forever” until sunrise. With Walrus, we all knew what was going to happen: his speech would begin to slur, he would have difficulty keeping his balance, and he would eventually require the assistance of his wife to get back home and into bed. (Worst case: he’d fall down a flight of stairs. Worst case.)

Ok, for the sake of full disclosure: there had been one night when Walrus went out drinking and didn’t come home. But the next morning his wife found him sleeping safely a few blocks away in the middle of an intersection—but that was an exception to the rule. We all knew that.

And we were right.

We had been at the piano bar for about a half hour when Walrus’s wife told us she was going to take him back to the condo. No surprise.

The next morning a few of us were sitting on the deck and laughing about how Millis and a few others had come home from the piano bar and were greeted by a semi-conscious Walrus who asked them to recall the manner in which they consume a lollipop and apply that method to his testicles.

Walrus stumbled out to the deck in time to catch most of the conversation and listened with a smile. He eventually sat down and asked, “So you guys went to a piano bar last night?”

A couple nights later, a group of us—including Walrus and his wife—went to the piano bar again.

As we made our way to a table, Walrus began to comment on various items in the bar. His comments made his wife laugh, but they weren’t meant to be funny, so he asked, “What’s so funny?”

She kept laughing and turned to him and said, “You commented on all of this stuff the exact same way the last time we came here!”

He laughed and said, “I don’t even remember being in here.”

Walrus had been in the same bar just two nights earlier, but remembered none of it. So although it was his second time seeing everything, he reacted as if it was his first. And his reactions were all the same.

If someone can be put in the exact situation twice, won’t they react the same both times?

Do we make decisions? Or are we simply aware of the process that leads to our reactions and their consequences?

(Or is a drunken Walrus not the proper test subject?)

What is the criteria for a post on this blog?

I don't know. Especially after that last post. Maybe i'm starting to think about my audience a little bit.

Maybe that post was written for the people.

Written for the masses.

Conversation at work today

The two guys sitting in front of me were debating global warming. One was arguing that global warming is impossible to disprove. The other disagreed.

They went back and forth for a while, until I interjected and said, "Listen, you guys are wasting your breath because there is a simple way to find out whether global warming is actually happening."

That got their attention. They stopped debating and looked back at me as I continued, "Even scientists are wasting time and resources by doing research on climate change when there is such a simple way to figure out whether it is real."

That got the attention of a couple of more people sitting by us. All eyes turned to me, and then one of the guys asked, "How?"

I paused for a second and then gave them the answer that should already be completely obvious to everyone, "Just ask the Pope."

The Wire

After watching the final episode of The Wire, I did a google search to learn more about the show's creators. One link that came up on the results page included the words "Wire Emmy Snub." I've never paid much attention to the Emmy awards, but knew that it was the most talked about television award. And while watching The Wire, I guess I just assumed it had won a bunch of awards.

So I went to the Emmy website and looked up past nominees for the years when The Wire was on tv, expecting to find a bunch of shows I'd never seen. But that wasn't the case. Shows like Lost, 24, and Deadwood had all been nominated, even CSI and Boston Legal had been nominated.

Of course, I didn't think any less of The Wire after reading that list of Emmy nominees, but I certainly thought a lot less of the Emmy awards.

An actual comment that was left on my blog:

Anonymous said...

Hello everyone!
I would like to burn a theme at here. There is such a nicey, called HYIP, or High Yield Investment Program. It reminds of financial piramyde, but in rare cases one may happen to meet a company that really pays up to 2% daily not on invested money, but from real profits.

For several years , I make money with the help of these programs.
I'm with no money problems now, but there are heights that must be conquered . I make 2G daily, and I started with funny 500 bucks.
Right now, I managed to catch a guaranteed variant to make a sharp rise . Visit my web site to get additional info.

(then it lists a link to their blog, and that's it)

This scam has left multiple comments on my blog, and although it truly saddens me, I'm not exactly sure what part of it saddens me the most,

1) Knowing that there are people in this world so desperate and sad that they are trying to steal money from innocent and uneducated investors, or

2) Knowing that there are people in this world so desperate and dumb that they are willing give their money to someone whose English is as bad as the person who drafted that comment

If I could make the law, this would be the punishment for promoting an investment scam:

(I haven't decided what I'd do to the scammer himself, but those pictures give an accurate depiction of what I'd do to his first born son)

(I find a lot of things funny about those pics, but maybe the funniest is that he is forced to take that beating naked! He is completely naked!! Why can't they just pull down his pants? Or let him keep that apron he's wearing during processing? Or even let him keep his socks?)