So tonight while enjoying some wonderful frozen yogurt at Pinkberry, a conversation of the absurd kind occurred. To make sense of the story, I will state for the record that we were in Little Korea. 32nd and Broadway to be exact.

We happened to notice a building that looked as if were some kind of “hospital” or “repair center for the emotionally needy.” This translated into whorehouse, because face it folks… we’re all perverted somehow.

To make a long story short, these are the fabulous quotes that emerged:

David: You know manual sex IS a genre of sex…
Lindsey: As opposed to what? Automatic sex?

Oh Lindsey, you’re so silly.

Here’s a video involving other mysteries of the evening (as captured by David):

Two fun stories for today. Enjoy them.

Story 1

Last night I was in Brooklyn at this pretty sweet bar, and I don’t really know if it had a name… all I could tell is that it had huge iron doors as if it were hiding massive machinery.

Luckily it was not. In fact, it was hiding a hip and trendy place that is definitely worth visiting again. The people seemed very cool, even though I didn’t actually meet anybody new.

There were darts, a pool table (which was impossible to get access to, sadly), and ping-pong. Some photo’s of the night:

The drinks weren’t too pricey, which made it that much more worthwhile.

What made it even better, is that I was with a bunch of cool people from work, and my awesome friends from college (Kris and Sokha) from Albany and Boston. Thanks for visiting, you know how much I love you.

Story 2

I was sent a message via one of the sites I belong to. It went as follows:

Your first picture looks like ET.

That was it. Nothing more. I am so scared, scared for my life, scared for humanity, scared for all. Now, I don’t really disagree with the statement, at least with this specific pose. I am just so confused as to what could possibly compel someone to say that.

Pictures for comparison:

But I really find it strange that someone would even bother contacting me to tell me that I look like the alien that plagued my childhood nightmares for years.

I guess it really is ironic, because I was the only one scaring myself then, and now that I look like what I was afraid of, I have become my own worst fear. Well, as a child at least.

Today I was standing in line at Wendy’s, waiting to get my order of Crispy Chicken Nuggets, when someone from behind me came up to place an order. Hilarity ensued.

Man: Can I have two Junior Whoppers.
Register Lady: I’m sorry?
Man: Umm, Whopper Juniors. Can I have two of them.
Register Lady: We don…
Man: (Interrupting) Ha ha, whoops, this isn’t Burger King.
Man: Can I have umm… two… ummm…
Register Lady: Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers?
Man: Umm, Uhh, yeah… let me get two of those and umm… some fries

And, that was my night. Fun times, eh?

Here is an excerpt from a random conversation with a friend:

Kris: I hate people who say “I am deeper than you think.”
Me: I AM A LOT DEEPER THAN YOU THINK, I JUST BROKE MY NAIL AND IT MADE ME SAD, SAD LIKE LIFE AND THAT’S WHY I AM DEEP I HATE YOU
Kris: that is pretty deep, an emotional level can’t dream of obtaining…
Me: THAT’S WHAT I TOLD YOU OPS MY CAPSLOCKS IS BORKED
Me: BECAUSE I AM DEEPER THAN YOU THINK LOL
Kris: why are you yelling if your so deep?
Me: BECAUSE THIS CAVE IS DEEP
Me: LIKE ME
Kris: that was brilliant
Kris: you not only are deep, but a poet