Mike: I don’t know about this place. It’s supposed to be a sports bar, but they hand out silverware.
Me: So?
Mike: Who the hell eats burgers and chicken wings with silverware?
Me: The bartender’s a guy.
Mike: We’re leaving.
Me: So this one Points in Case blogger is doing her own snippets.
Mike: Is she hot?
Me: I’ve never seen her, really. Her picture looks cute.
Mike: You should tell her to come visit you, and you’ll teach her the art of the snippet.
Me: What art? It’s just chunks of conversation.
Mike: No it isn’t, Nathan. It’s your divine passion, your lifeblood, and if she would like to learn your secrets, she needs to come down here and suck them out of your cock.
Me: Does your brain ever lead you anywhere besides sex and food?
Mike: Yes. Sometimes it leads me to money.
Me: But you only make money so you can have sex.
Mike: And eat food.
Me: Good point.
Alex: What point? Seriously, not one fucking point has been made since I sat down. Who talks like this?
Mike: I have another point to make, Nathan.
Me: What’s that, Mike?
Mike: Alex regularly gets head from his mom.
Me: Good point.
Alex: That wasn’t a fucking point. God, you guys are idiots.
Me: Shut up you literal mother fucker.
Mike: Nice point, Nathan. Nice.
Alex: What point? He didn’t say I fucked my Mom. He just said I get head from her.
Mike: You get head from your mom?
Me: Y’all know the entire bar is looking at us right now.
Alex: I fucking hate you guys.
Waitress: Honestly, you guys are really sick.
Mike: Don’t look at me. He’s the guy who talks about his mom sucking him off.
Waitress: Well then, he’s a sicko.
Me: Good point.
Alex: That’s it. I’m outta here.
Deanna: What was up with that guy? He gets head from his mom?
Mike: That guy couldn’t get head from his sister.
Me: That don’t make no sense.
Mike: Obviously, you’ve never met his sister.
Me: Touché.
Me: Do you ever think—
Dave: No.
Me: I didn’t finish.
Dave: I don’t care. You’re about to say something stupid and I’ve had enough stupidity for one day.
Me: Seriously though—
Dave: No, Nate. Whatever you’re about to say will not be serious. I know you, and whatever you’re thinking right now is stupid.
Me: I just don’t understand why there’s no Mormon porn.
Dave: It’s not a brain. It’s a funhouse for the mentally retarded.
Me: Wow, you just used a metaphor.
Dave: And I wouldn’t have to talk like this if I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.
Me: You ever wonder why there’s no Mormon porn?
Cliff: No. No, I don’t.
Me: I mean think about it, they allow bigamy. You could be going at it with your six wives, demanding that they do all kinds of dirty shit because you’re the man and those are the rules. And if the girls got out of line, you could slap the crap out of them.
Jamie: What’s he talking about?
Cliff: Mormon porn.
Jamie: Sweet Jesus.
Me: You know what I don’t get? Why didn’t New Orleans have an evacuation plan? Every coastal city has one. Hell, Tampa’s evacuation plan is in every one of the city’s phone books.
Darren: They had an evacuation plan.
Me: What was it?
Darren: Go to the Superdome. Wait there until the government actually does something proactive. Bitch about racism.
Me: A three part plan. Nice.
Subway Girl: Have a great day.
Darren: No. No, I will not have a great day. I will have a pissed off, angry, shit-fuck of a day.
Me: Sorry about him. His cat just died and well, he’s a little sensitive.
Subway Girl: That’s all right. My dog died last year and it took forever for me to get over it.
Me: You have a great day.
Subway Girl: I’m not going there again. Bye.
Tom: So I was walking in to open this place up and I saw a trail of blood, a tooth, and splinters of wood all across the sidewalk, and I thought, ‘well, another typical Monday night at The [Local Pub].’
Me: I love this bar.
Me: I can’t wait until I can go outside in the daytime again. I hate having popped blood vessels in my face.
Tom: Yeah, I know what that’s like. I’m Irish. I always get the red cheeks.
Me: I’m not Irish, dude.
Tom: No, but you are extremely Caucasian.
Me: Good point.