....but i'm not

Monday, February 22, 2010

Scrambled Eggs

Two Hoffmann chicks, definitely on the same page:

RiZzLeRaZzLe08: hola
me: hey there, when is the midterm?
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: next class
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: were watching a movie about makingbabies
me: nice, that sounds like fun
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: I'm thinking about selling my eggs
me: me too -little jordans across the globe
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: especially after watching this
oh boy...little jordans
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: I talked to mom about it I don't think she was too happy
she was like yeah but every child you see could be yours
me: haha, not that fertile!
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: haha
if I did it once I could pay for school
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: and maybe take a vacation
me: how much?
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: apparently in the 90s when this was made they would pay between $5000 to $50000
depending on your genetics
I've read articles about it in Marie Claire also
me: well we've got great genes! we'd be on the upper end of that fo sho
me: maybe ask your professor what specifically "depending on your genetics" means
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: I'll ask
I think our genes are pretty good
me: we're tall.
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: I could take two vacations
were sort of smart
me: that's got to be good for at least $13,022
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: we could use the high school thing**(see note below)
RiZzLeRaZzLe08: ew I guess they use a needle as big as your arm to suck the eggs out
me: highly unlikely. what if they accidentally suck things out the aren't supposed to?

**To understand the "highschool thing" I must note that we were both second best salutatorians at Salem Central School. Who knew I'd be able to put this on my fertility resume someday??

Apparently I scared her off because that was the end of the conversation.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

A Word of Advice

Just when I thought my 9-5 days were perhaps growing too monotonous, my extracurricular routines too standard, and my encounters with creepers too few, I saw a glimmer of hope on the Purple Line express train today...

To some (primarily my most trusted buddies), the text "let's go somewhere fun tomorrow night...I'm experiencing man withdrawl" is a rally cry for 20-somethings to get over our winter blues, put on something cute, and go grab drinks in Wicker Park.

Apparently to others, it's a cry of desperation and can only be interpreted as "hey stranger on the el, let me write you a note informing you that I just read your text message from an eerie distance and think that you probably wrote it with the hopes that I would ask you if you want to go grab a drink sometime, preferably this weekend as I'm predicting that if I'm at the point where I'm picking up girls on the el, it's going to be a pretty lonely weekend." Okay I made up the second part, but the first part is all too true.

To the man on the purple line express who thought that this would be an effective strategy to write this note and show it to me, to this man I have two words: It wasn't.

But let's just hope that it was the first text he read that inspired the note because the second one was prompted by a really warm seat over the radiator and read: "I'm on the hottest purple line ever. My a$$ is on fire."