Peculiar Pick-up Line: The Sequel

There I was, standing in a bar, beer in hand, enjoying myself. A man approaches.

Him: "Hi."

Me: "Hello."

H: "How you doing?"

M: "Fine, yourself?"

H: "Fine."

Long pause.

H: "I'm wearing a jockstrap."

What Else Are They Expecting?

I handed a woman the header card for her tickets and asked her to sign, and she held it up and said: "Sign this?" And I wanted to ask her what else she thought I might be asking her to sign. Her sleeve? The floor? A 27-page contract? On the one hand I understand that she was merely verifying what I had asked her to do; but on the other, since it was the only possible alternative, why ask?

It's something I have occasion to wonder about now and again. When we used to hand tickets out in envelopes, some folks would hold up the envelope and ask if their tickets were in it. What else would there possibly be in there? Hm, I've walked up to the box office, I've asked for the tickets I ordered, and they've handed me a small envelope. Why, it's about the size and shape of theater tickets. I wonder what's inside? Wait -- is it my tickets? I could open it up and see...no, I'd better ask first.

I could imagine them at McDonald's, placing their order, and when the bag of food was handed to them holding it up and asking if their food was inside.

It's In The Genes

I recently attended a wedding, at which the bride wore an absolutely stunning wedding dress.

And that reminds me of this...

Many years ago, when I was in college, I was in a work study program to help defer the costs of my education. My boss, the college's graphic designer, announced one day that she was getting married. She had decided that there was one person in the world she wanted to design her wedding dress.

Me.

It seems that, in her mind, gay = fashion designer, and, since I liked boys, I met the essential qualification to design one of the most important dresses of her life. (I eventually declined.)

Now, that reminds me of this...

I was out one Halloween in Grand Rapids, when a saucy drag queen in not much of an outfit started talking to me. The drag queen obviously knew me, and I had no idea who she was.

At the time I worked at the Grand Rapids YMCA (not out of love for those less fortunate; rather, if you worked there you got free access to the Y's health club). As is my way, in slow periods I doodled, and usually doodled women in various outrageous outfits.

The drag queen in question was one of my co-workers, and he told me that one day he had come in for a shift after mine. He found one of my doodles, and was so entranced by what he saw that he immediately tossed his idea for a Halloween costume and instead was wearing the outfit I'd designed.

Always Go To The Source

The phone rings at the theater.

"Are you in Chicago?" Yes, ma'am, right inside the theater even.

"Is it snowing there?" Not now. It was earlier, but it's stopped.

"Well, is my flight going to be cancelled?" Um, you might actually want to contact your airline with that question.

"Really?" Really.

Is The Librarian Creepy?

I used to live near the Uptown branch of the Chicago Public Library and was in there every week or two. But back in 2005 I moved to Andersonville, and so started to patronize my new neighborhood branch, the Bazaznian branch.

One day I went to pick up a book I had ordered, and when I walked in the librarian walked away from the counter. I thought that was rather rude. Then she returned: holding the book I had ordered.

I expressed my surprise. She said she remembered me from the Uptown branch. My first thought was, wow, great memory, followed shortly by my second thought: they scan library cards. She had no reason to know my name, and that she remembered my name and face after two years....

Son Of Just Because I Know The Answer To My Question Doesn't Mean I Know The Answer To My Question,

Man calls the theater. Tells me his son turns 5 in August, but they want tickets in April.

Man: "So, come on, tell me: how strict are they really?"

Me: "Well, they just don't allow children under 5 into the theater."

Man: "No, come on, really, how strict are they?"

Me: "Children under 5 are not allowed into the theater."

[Man seems to think that what we mean by 'children under 5 are not allowed in the theater' is 'if you ask enough times, we'll change our silly little minds and let any ol' child into the theater]

Man, exasperated: "You know, all I'm looking for here is a human answer."

Me: "Okay, well, the human answer is that the show is so loud, the hearing of children under 5 can be permanently damaged by the volume. Further, in the early years of Blue Man Group children under 5 were allowed into the show and all too often, such young children found the Blue Men to be not entertaining but terrifying. The parents then had to spend the bulk of the show in the lobby consoling a terrifed child."

Man: "Oh. Okay. Um. Okay, we'll just get four tickets for...."