Tag: rando (Page 8 of 11)

You look like an Irish Predator.

“Thank you.”

Some people wouldn’t have taken that as a compliment, and I salute you for doing so.

“I make a conscious choice to interpret all statements as compliments.”

Isn’t that a bit dangerous?

“Oh, that’s sweet. Thanks.”

If you were an ancient supercontinent, which one would you be?

“Gondwona, first choice. Rodinia, second choice.”

You’ve thought about this.

“My mother was a supercontinent.”

Sure. How much direct sunlight can you stand?

“Virtually none.”

Me neither. Let’s go to Makeout Peak. We can make out, and I can peek.

“That would be so great, but I’m in grieving. My boyfriend just died.”

Oh, that’s horrible. My condolences.

“You can give them to him. He’s right there.”

Huh?

“THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I’VE CAUGHT YOU SNAKING MY LADY!”

Captain Fuck?

“I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE PASSED OUT ON A HIGHWAY!”

This is just fucking dumb.

I like your entrepreneurial spirit, and ethnic hair.

“So many possible genetic backgrounds.”

No, you’re Jewish.

“Just barely, though.”

Oh? I’m a Reform Jew, too.

“Very low-effort denomination.”

Everything’s in English, there are no threats, women are treated equally: it hardly even qualifies as religion.

“I consider myself a Buddhist now.”

What do others consider you?

“Zoroastrian. I don’t know where they got that idea.”

Weird. Y’know, I’m cuddly but muscular.

“Really?”

No. The opposite. Bony, and I shriek when I’m touched.

“You’re a catch.”

Can we continue this conversation over food?

“Sure. I wanna eat tacos.”

Cool. Is there a truck or something?

“Truck?”

“SHE MEANT MY COCKMEAT, HOMBRE!”

I truly despise this bit.

You look like my college roommate Rachel.

“That’s great.”

Are you my college roommate Rachel?

“Was she one of those five-year-old geniuses?”

No.

“Then, no.”

You’re very visible.

“I’m in no danger from hunters.”

What if they’re hunting man?

“Still no danger.”

I meant “man” in the humanity sense.

“Oh, then: yes, danger. I’ve never been in a Most Dangerous Game situation before.”

No one has been. Until they are.

“I feel I would survive that game. I’m fit, I have great cardiovascular stamina, and I’m not afraid to use my feminine wiles.”

Describe these wiles.

“See the dimple?”

Yup.

“Smile?”

Uh-huh.

“Check out the rack.”

Okay.

“Wiles, bitch.”

You are wily. Do you date?

“You?”

Yes.

“No.”

Ah.

“I have a boyfriWHO SHOULD NOT BE TALKING TO THOSE SKANKS!”

“BUT I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE, BABY!”

“THIS IS NOT HOW THE CAPTAIN RAISED YOU, TODD FUCK!”

I need to stop doing this bit.

Your chin is so pointy, and you have elephants on your torso, but only the top part.

“Bubbles.”

Yes, so many bubbles.

“No, that’s my name.”

Flemish?

“Angolan.”

Of course. What do you do?

“I say I’m an actress.”

Of course. Is your belly button the center of the universe?

“All loci are the center of the universe, so: yes.”

You pluralize so effortlessly.

“Thanks.”

Would you like to pet? Light-to-moderate, or pedal-to-the-metal: your choice.

“Yeah, okay.”

…

What?

“Let’s pet. We can french, maybe even sloppy second.”

Awesome.

“Lemme just tell my brothers where I’m going.”

Oh, I don’t like the sound of that.

“Kip! Henry! I found a beau!”

“YOU SAID WE GOT TO WATCH THIS TIME!”

“AND TRADE HANDS IN A FRATERNAL FASHION!”

I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s your last name?

“WE ARE THE FUCKS!”

“YOU MAY KNOW OUR FATHER, THE CAPTAIN!”

Hard pass.