Archive for the ‘A v. B’ Category

#498

January 10 2012

A. I’ll give you a dollar if you tell me the most boring thing you know.
B. Prove it.
A. You have to say it first.
B. No. Show me the dollar first. I need to SEE it.
A. I. Don’t actually have it on
B. Liar
A. But when we get back to
B. LIAR
A. I will absolutely give you a
B. Lyre
A. sweet strumming then
B. Lye-er
A. Hey! You can impugn my integrity, you can threaten to pluck my strings, but no one– not nobody– accuses me of dissolving bodies for laughs.
B. And soap.
A. Is that what soap is made actually let’s
B. Sometimes.
A. not talk about it.
B. Some bad times.
A. Seriously. Pop pop.
B. ?
A. Imagine that sound is coming from the tugged corners of your crisp new GW,
B. Gushy Warts?
A. and not my stupid mouth
B. and dumb lips
A. Right. And my dumb lips.
B. And fat tongue.
A. My tongue’s not fat.
B. Eh.
A. If anything, I think it’s too slim.
B. Long though.
A. Oh, most definitely.
B. But also a little bulky.
A. Height-weight appropriate.
B. For Shaq maybe.
A. What, you want to Not Date the Big Daddy Diesel of tongues?
B. Not complaining, just saying.
A. Saying “Oh GOD thank you, Big Poppa Pump
B. That’s Rick Steiner
A. –of tongues. Thank you all the way–
B. Or, Scott Steiner
A. to the FACE BANK”
B. I forget.
A. Oh, yeah. You’re right
B. Which one?
A. Umm… Scott. I’m pretty sure. It’s the shitty one, right?
B. Yeah. The asshole.
A. That’s Scott.
B. Face Bank?
A. What?
B. Whose face?
A. No, it’s a bank of them.
B. Oh.
A. My tongue takes you there.
B. I don’t get it.
A. My tongue is so good you make so many faces, every amazing face, and you gotta store ’em away forever
B. Wow. Really?
A. Yeah.
B. I think it should mean your face
A. What? How?
B. Like, your tongue is taking me all the way, all the way to your face bank and
A. And then
B. then I make a deposit, there
A. In my face bank.
B. Yeah.
A. No. No, I definitely meant to a saveworthy face place.
B. Huh.
A. Either way though
B. Oh yeah, definitely.
A. *eat*
B. *sip*
A. *bite* So how ’bouty ’bout it?
B. Speaking with your mouth full?
A. *chew* No *chew* that dollar bill I wrote your name on
B. Seriously?
A. Yeah.
B. So this was a plan of yours, asking me this?
A. I didn’t think it was going to be such a struggle, but yes. It was.
B. And you, ahead of time, thought to deface legal tender but not to actually bring that legal tender with you?
A. Well I don’t want to get caught.
B. … really?
A. *chew* Yeah.
B. No.
A. What?
B. No. I’m not going to tell you.
A. What? How come?
B. I don’t like it.
A. Being boring? It’s never
B. No. I don’t like you setting up our conversations like this. It feels weird. And gross.
A. Oh come on, it’s just this one dumb
B. Also fuck you. Also: is it?
A. Yeah.
B. Really?
A. Yeah?
B. Yeaah??
A. Yeah.
B.
A. No. It’s not.
B. How not.
A. Very?
B. How v
A. Every single one.
B. Every– All of it? All of them!?
A. No…
B.
A. to the first one. Yes to the second.
B. Make that make sense to me.
A. I come up with something, something for every time we talk. But not everything I say is planned.
B. And the stuff that is planned?
A. Well, there’s a lot of it.
B. But how planned.
A. … pretty planned
B. How planned.
A. I, I come up with an idea. And, um
B. And.
A. And I, well, I practice.
B. To learn your lines?
A. No. I don’t write lines, not usually.
B. Not u
A. I just come up with an idea– something I want to say– something specific maybe– or a question to ask you, but one that will unfold into something rich and interesting. Or sometimes it’s more of a bit like this
B. Offering me a dollar to say something boring
A. Yeah
B. And then that was it– you come up with the idea and that’s it– the dollar thing is it.
A. Yeah…
B. …?
A. I mean, I don’t write out a whole spiel or anything. But. I practice it. Beforehand– usually kind of a lot.
B. How much is a lot.
A. I mean, it’s hard to say, because I’ll run through it in my head at work in the days leading up to our dates,
B. An estimate
A. and that’s not at full concentration, though, and
B. An hour? two hours?
A. six or seven hours?
B.
A. Sometimes more like eight or twelve.
B. Twelve!?
A. I mean, it’s not fully concentrated though.
B. A half of an entire day?!
A. Not in a row.
B. What are you doing for half a day– standing in front of a mirror in a powder blue tux, or army surplus jacket, just… Saying it?
A. No, no. I don’t look in mirrors, I don’t say it out loud, not usually, I don’t even own a mohawk let alone a gun
B. Cute. Did you practice that line too?
A. No. I don’t. That’s not what I do.
B. No?
A. Not really. I j
B. What do
A. C’mon. I’m telling you.
B. *hand gesture*
A. Ugh. So, once I have the idea I just, kind of, imagine myself saying it to you. That’s how it starts. Then, from there, I mean– the first few times it’s just that. I’ll think of something good to say to you and then imagine saying it and you like it.
B. I always like it?
A. Not always. And if, if each time, after like six times saying it, imagining saying it and my idea of you doesn’t like it at least most of those times. Or, say, hasn’t come around to it in a big way, I just ditch it outright.
B. Quality control.
A. Exactly
B. But let’s say dark twisted fantasy me really enjoys it, is totally on board
A. It’s not like that.
B. Not like what?
A. It’s not, perverted. It’s just. It’s just,
B. Unpleasant to think about?
A. No. The opposite of that actually.
B. You sure? It seems
A. It’s that– I like thinking about you. I like being with you so I like thinking about being with you so when I’m bored, when I have to suffer through another stupid day at work, instead of thinking about my job I just think about when, I can next, be. With you. And what I can say to. To
B. To…
A. make you want to want to be, with me, as
B. Ok. No. That
A. much as I want to be with you.
B. Ok, ok. I think I got it. Let’s… just, eat.
A. But each time I ask  dreamyou the question, each time– there might be a different response because
B. *sip, eat; avert*
A. people aren’t always the same person.
B. *last bite, swallow* Can we get the check?
A. Ok, I get it. I know it’s over. That’s fine
B. *to the waitfolk* Everything was great. Excellent, really.
A. but, well, I think
B. Don’t worry. It’s my treat.
A. If everyone could find someone that they wanted to talk to even when they weren’t around, and if everyone did do that– did come up with nice things to say, and someone to say them to– and did think about how what they said would better the lives of those involved and did that– that everything would be better,
B. [already gone]
A. at least a little.
B. [but back again]
A. Now how do you feel about dollar bills?

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#497

January 2 2012

A. Tell me the most boring thing you know.
B. Bed time?
A. No. I’m still talking. We’re still talking.
B. Sure.
A. Just want to know the most boring thing you can think of, to know.
B. Sure.
A. Tell me the most boring thing you know.
B. Sky’s blue.
A. No.
B. What?
A. Boring boring.
B. Boring how?
A. Also true
B. Did the sky change.
A. It’s a reflection of the water
B. No?
A. Yeah. It’s only blue because it’s reflecting the color of the water
B. I think it’s the opposite of that
A. Water’s not red.
B.
A. That sounds familiar actually
B. From school, I bet. Science school.
A. What makes the sky blue then?
B. Cloudy days, ozone depletion, the songs of Harry Chapin, excess black bile
A. dumbass
B. I don’t know. Water particles probably?
A. Yeah. That sounds right.
B. Or the air is made of prisms. Or nanomachines.
A. Nanomachines?
B. Tiny robots.
A. I know what nan- ok, I don’t
B. They’re, they’re little magic robots that can do anything you can’t come up with a better explanation for how it happens
A. Sounds plausible.
B. I mean, they’re real. I think. Or they will be, it’s just
A. They’re not magic yet
B. Yeah. They don’t do things.
A. What does this have to do with the sky?
B. It’s blue because of them. Now or in the future.
A. Oh. Ok.
B. We’ll control the sky that way and then everything ‘ll be ok.
A. I wasn’t aware sky color was one of our more pressing issues.
B. The weather in general.
A. Oh.
B. We’ll be able to control all of it.
A. Huh.
B. No more floods, no more drought.
A. You don’t say.
B. At least not for the rich countries
A. Do rich countries have droughts? I thought that’s why they were rich.
B. Arizona, I bet. Or parts of California. The Dust Bowl, I bet.
A. I could have sworn that was brought on by our poverty…
B. So it was one of those opportunistic natural catastrophes
A. Wealth is how we determine God’s love and when you don’t have it that’s when your guard is down
B. Harsh.
A. It’s an incentive to do good at being successful
B. Because poverty itself isn’t stick enough
A. Well apparently not
B. There’s also no more snow.
A. What? Why!?
B. Snow’s a hazard, both safety-base and bad for the economy.
A. What about for ski resorts?
B. Sure, selectively we would let it snow
A. And then skiing would be better than ever!
B. Yeah. Almost defini
A. And all those snowboard jerks would pay
B. itely I don’t follow.
A. Ski on top of their frozen corpses
B. What?
A. like moguls. Then they’ll know.
B. Why?
A. Like dumb, stupid, jerk moguls… That’s not what I meant though.
B. Yes. Repent your snowvengous ways.
A. No, not not that.
B. Not what then.
A. Not what I meant by a boring thing.
B. Not boring enough? Sky blue’s pretty basic. I mean, once nanomachines get involved I guess
A. But not a fact. Not a sentence. Tell me something really boring.
B. Why?
A. The most boring thing you know.
B. Wait, why though?
A. I’m tired. And I love you.
B. Yes?
A. Just want to hear your voice say dumb things and lay here and let it sink me to sleep.
B. Odd song.
A. No. Sink. Not sing.
B. Weird… cement , piece of.
A. Shoes.
B. Let my words be your  murder shoes.
A. Let your words be my death galoshes.
B. That’s true. If I put you in cement shoes I wouldn’t take your regular shoes off first.
A. Unless they were real fly kicks.
B. That’s true. I wouldn’t want you to soar out of it.
A. Hm? Oh, yeah. I was just trying to be hips.
B. Mm. *grab* You’re always hips.
A. Noo. Not tired enough. Not boring.
B. What? *kiss, reach some* What could be more boring than, at this point, by now, me grabbing on you, kissing your neck, and digging for fire? *dig, fire*
A. Ahn. I think. You’re. You’re *hand v. hand* You’re underestimating my ability to stay real thrilled about the 6 or 7 good things humans can do to each other
B. *one hand slides higher, more nape kisses, quarterback sneak* Are you, fake yawn, sure? Annngh. I for one couldn’t be less so.
A. Yes, yes — yes . Yes.  Yes, I’m . I’m sure, I *dogie ropes, corrals around the waist, buck-less* I’m sure.
B. Fair enough *winter naps the arms, kerchiefs the sternum, and squeezes to settle* So, boring?
A. Be it. For me. Please. Now.
B. And this is to sleep you; it’s not a secret enraptorer.
A. No, I will not become enraptored.
B. Stupit Gehl
A. Excuse me?
B. It’s , the opposite of Clevah Gehl. You know.
A. Right, right.
B. I’m not entirely pleased with it either
A. We can workshop it.
B. Ok, I feel like
A. Later.
B. Oh.
A. Boring thing. Chop chop.
B. Hm.
A. Chip chup, now.
B. I’m thinking.
A. Chirp chirp. I’m not to feather my nest here, fascinatin’ myself.
B. Aw. Baby bird. *head kiss*
A. No, chapped chump. To boring me!
B. *move a strand of hair from mis to place*
A. Chipped chirps.
B. *kiss a cheek, a real good one– cherubic*
A. Churled Serbs!
B. *another face kiss, another, and then lips*
A. Cvrld Cvbrds
B. *continuous*
A. *chilled lips*

Later

A. Now you gotta bore me.
B. Again?
A. No. With your words. And I’m pretty sure I just bore you.
B. Words are fun.
A. Not all words. Not the ones you’re about to tell me.
B. Can’t I just boar y-
A. no.
B. Like a-
A. no.
B. Tusks.
A. *trombone lips*
B. Tusks?
A. *trumpet lips*
B. Da da Da da da Tusks!
A. No, just say dumb things for my unmusement.
B. Don’t you want to know what boaring you would entail tho?
A. Not unless it is also actually twist pun ending really boring.
B. No. *sulk/sigh* It’s super interesting.
A. Well…
B. Yes?
A. One more – but then you have to promise, Double Dog Promise, to bore the shit out of me.
B. That can certainly
A. And not in that way.
B. be, fine.
A. So?
B. Well, I.. well. It.
A. Oh c’mon.
B. I gore y
A. Gore me? With what.
B. My h
A. And if this is an Al Gore joke I swear to God I’m getting a pre-divorce
B. An nonnulment
A.
B.
A.
B. I don’t know. I thought I would come up with something.
A.
B. Probably, like, sex stuff though.
A. I’m getting in position *rubs a sleep groove into the sheets, full bodied*
B. Ok, ok. I’ll start ‘boring’ you.
A. Start?
B. Ah. Clever. Fun.
A. *nustles head into sheet, two words I can’t read, deep rips, then rests on A. Full Body Press*
B. Ok. You ready.
A. So ready. So.
B. Ok. When I was six.
A. Too interesting.
B. No, it’s really not.
A. I know so little of your life. Each bit is at least a little something, and the older the bit the moreso.
B. Fine.
A. But it can’t just be facts though
B. I know somebody
A. *nustle*
B. I don’t actually know them, not– I don’t know their name or anything but I see them everyday. Well, not everyday, but sometimes.
A. So far so good.
B. It’s not too broken up?
A. No. That helps. But, only in small doses or else it becomes frustrating, so, yes. Smooth it out now.
B. We see each other at the crosswalk, outside of work. Usually on the way there, but sometimes on the way back, and, rarely, both.
A. So they work in the same building as you?
B. No. We’re headed in opposite directions.
A. Hm. That threatens to be intrigueful…
B. Are you supposed to be talking? I thought you wanted to sink
A. I can do both.
B. If you want to drown quicker…
A. Except in this case the opposite, no, you’re right. I’ll shut it.
B. Thank you.
A. *smile*… *nod*
B. Right. So every… three mornings or so, and every… seven or nine afternoons, I see this person.
A. *nod on chest*
B. And it has gotten to the point where I recognize them. Well, obviously. I couldn’t be telling you this otherwise.
A. *look up*
B. And I’ve been debating if I should start acknowledging them or not.
A.
B. I mean, they– we don’t usually make eye contact, but I think it’s because they’re avoiding my eye contact. *look down*
A. *opens eyes wide to ‘and…’ or ‘so…’*
B. I know they know I notice them. I’m sure of it. And, it’s not like, it’s not like they look away or anything– I’ve never actually seen her avert me, it, my eye contact, I haven’t. But… but I can just tell. They let their focus go soft. They don’t want to have to know me for some reason.
A. *eyes open, head to chest; awake*
B. If I could. Get their attention, have them acknowledge me. That’s just want I want. Or, what, I mean. But.
A. So, you have a crush on a stranger.
B. What? No.
A. What. Yes.
B. Maybe?
A. Ok.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B. I guess it’s not that boring.
A. It is a little, just not for me.
B. Sorry.
A. Really?
B. Sorry.
A. Huh.

#263

October 6 2011

A. Can you pass the showerscrub?
B. ..Which one is that?
A. The showerscrub.
B. I, can’t tell which one you’re pointing at
A. There
B. The facewash or the bodywash?
A. The bodywash. The showerscrub.
B. Ok.
A. Thank you.
B. You’re welcome.
A. See– “First Dew scented ‘Showerscrub'”
B. Ok. Ok. I haven’t memorized your soap brands.
A. Just so you know. For next time.
B. Sure.
A.
B.
A. If I had wanted the facewash I would have asked for the facewash.
B. Not the… peach exfoliating microcrystals?
A. That’s just the description. The brand name is Almacs.
B. Not the Almacs?
A. Don’t pick nits.
B. Whatever.
A. Unless they’re actual nits, in which case, by all means, pick them.
B.
A. This is supposed to be fun.
B. Eh.
A. ‘Eh’ it’s not supposed to be fun or ‘Eh’ it just isn’t
B. Both.
A. Both
B. I don’t really see the appeal in cleaning each other.
A. But we’re naked. Naked touching.
B. It’s not a sexy naked, though. Its, slumped , and– too
A. Natural?
B. Eh
A. Real?
B. Sort of
A. Disillusioning?
B. It’s like a zoo, but with people in it
A. In the cages?
B. Yeah.
A. So, it reminds you of prison?
B. A little.
A. I assure you, this shower is a rape-free zone.
B. Thanks.
A. As long as you keep a good grip on everything
B. Ok
A. And don’t look at me crossways
B. fun
A. or have snitched out me and my prison gang to the hacks
B. That means cabdriver
A. It does?
B. Yes.
A. What’s a prison guard then?
B. A dangerous job with great potential for horrifying abuses of power?
A. Huh.
B. Anyways, I think it was more like a human zoo then a prison. I think I was right before.
A. So, what’s a human zoo?
B. Well, it’s like a regular animal zoo
A. Ok, but you’re saying the term like it’s a thing that exists and is a legitimate point of comparison
B. Well, like Slaughterhouse-Five.
A. Never read it.
B. You should read it.
A. Sure.
B. There is a human zoo in it, that aliens have, and they watch the humans they captured mate and grow old and live their lives, every moment
A. And this reminds you of taking a shower with me
B. Yeah. Sort of.
A.
B.
A. How?
B. It feels like I’m on display.
A. To wh
B. It feels , every motion I do it feels performed, or
A. Wow. I do not pick that up at all.
B. Well you like a group shower
A. I don’t think two constitutes a
B. You know, you know what I meant
A. I do. I like it.
B. Well, why?
A. It’s nice. It’s… actually the exact opposite of how you see it.
B. An animal… aquarium.
A. I don’t think that’s the opposite on either count.
B. An animal open field with no boundaries whatsoever? Nor any expectation of behavior or performance?
A. Humans are animals.
B. Oh yeaah
A. Oh yeeaaahhh.
B. I genuinely, for real forgot.
A. Speciesist.
B. Darn skip. Human Beings: the Speciesest!
A. Number one with bullets.
B. I like it.
A. An aquarium is not far off though. I get a similar feeling there.
B. Which is?
A. Comfort.
B. Ah. The opposite.
A. Yeah. Complete, unselfconscious, all-encompassing comfort.
B. That sounds nice
A. It is! Well, it should be.
B. I almost feel guilty now.
A. Rats. I was going for suicidal with grief.
B. Tad extreme.
A. Don’t cross me.
B. *does stations, with soap, on A*
A. You are going to wish you never even went to CCD.
B. Going to?–Hey!
A. Oh look. You seem to have had a poor grip on your soap…
B. The soapscrub?
A. YOU ARE GOING TO BE PICKING MY BUSH OUT OF YOUR EARS & NOSE I AM GOING SO FAR DOWN YOUR THROAT
B. Hahahaha
A. I’M BEING VERY SCARY RIGHT NOW
B. huhHAHahaha

C. @@*~  &*~   ^%^@`!!^`~  $*(&&&k >>k##@+!!//,
D. &%^d$3##))))!~

 

#113

August 27 2011

Translated from the original Kissgalog

A. *We’re going to have to break this kiss eventually*
B. *But why stop now?*
A. *Not now, but soon enough*
B. *Someday*
A. *Today*
B. *No need to be hasty*
A. *I think that’s a more than fair timeframe*
B. *No need to decide anything just yet*
A. *I know, I know. But, this can’t go on forever*
B. *It can’t?*
A. *No! We eventually need to drink and eat and not ever poop in a plastic bag*
B. *…Paper?*
A. *I never thought I’d miss the bathroom so much*
B. *So… not paper*
A. *I think that would be worse than plastic*
B. *Really? How so?*
A. *Plastic is more immune to seepage*
B. *Oh, yeah. Didn’t think of that. I guess I assumed a solid only*
A. *Ok. Can we not talk about poop-types while we’re kissing?*
B. *You brought it up*
A. *It’s just not sexy*
B. *We’ve been kissing for almost 14 hours. Sexy is no longer part of this*
A. *I don’t know that I’d go that far*
B. *Yeah?*
A. *I mean, not right now. But it comes and goes*
B. *Rats. Next time you should tell me*
A. *Why? I mean, I will. But*
B. *Maybe I can make it a little better for you*
A. *Oh I don’t like the sound of that*
B. *There’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t make it*
A. *We have to stay standing upright. The whole time.*
B. *Eh, we can probably make that work*
A. *Upright?*
B. *I mean, I’m just talking hands*
A. *I’m not going to have you j me o in a packed auditorium*
B. *Hey, who knows. Maybe by then it will be less crowded– they’re going to have start breaking up their kisses eventually*
A. *No*
B. *Just give me a heads up is all… well, not too up*
A. *Nuh*
B. *Mm*
A. *Nooo*
B. *Mmm, sorry. Just got re-lost in the kiss for a second*
A. *See?*
B. *I see, I see. Must have been all that talk of getting you off*
A. *Well at least it worked for somebody*
B. *How about you? How’s your kiss*
A. *All I’m getting is lipmush*
B. *Yeah, now I’m back there too. But for a moment it felt just like the first time all over again*
A. *Huh. Lucky you*
B. *The luckiest. Eugh. Yeah. My tongue has completely re-lost all meaning*
A. *What did it mean before?*
B. *Truth? Love? Justice*
A. *That’s a heavy burden for one small tongue*
B. *Ain’t so small*
A. *Maybe. If we didn’t use tongue it would be easier…*
B. *No! C’mon. Our tongues are a moral argument*
A. *But no one else is*
B. *If no one else was jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you?*
A. *No. I wouldn’t. That’s, my point*
B. *It’s not that tall (1), (2) you’d survive, and (3) everyone would think you’re the coolest*
A. *I don’t really see how that’ s moral, tho…*
B. *I meant to use a better analogy*
A. *I know*
B. *The world’s longest kiss shouldn’t be some lips only, press & forget, 2-day nothing. Our tongues make the case for decency, and substance, and true affection*
A. *Well mine is fili-busted. My jaw hurts. And your mouth tastes like a stale spit sandwich*
B. *If we pull our tongues now we may as well go home*
A. *I am fine with either scenario*
B. *Fine. We can quit frenchin’*
A.
B.
A. *Wow. Mm. Eh, oh. I can, I can taste my own mouth again*
B. *I don’t want to mow down any greener grass dreams of yours, but your mouth isn’t exactly wint-o-green*
A. *& feeling is starting to return to my tongue*
B. *You lost feeling? Mine just felt like our mouths were hosting an eel fight to which I was an oddly empathetic observer*
A. *Yes, of course. I meant to say ‘eel fight’*
B. *I’m not doubting, just saying. Felt like an eel owner at an eel fight who, as the fight got up in rounds, was having a hard time telling which eel was even their eel any more*
A. *Did you win?*
B. *Everyone wins an eel fight– wins eel supper*
A. *Sad*
B. *Not sad. Eel supper!*
A. *Poor Karl*
B. *Karl?*
A. *Your eel*
B. *Ah, right. RIP Karl. RIP, BBQ*
A. *Don’t gloat*
B. *I miss you*
A. *We both miss you, Karl!*
B. *No, no. I miss you*
A. *Is this a symptom? Of dehydration? Or single tongue syndrome?*
B. *No, I just miss you is all*
A. *Well I’m still here*
B. *But it’s not like it used to be*
A. *No, well, maybe it’s bett-*
B. *Instead of calling an end to tongues, we could have made a game of it*
A. *- really?*
B. *Yeah*
A. *My jaw hurt. My tongue is fili-busted. We went over this*
B. *I know.*
A.
B.
A. *What tongue game could we have played?*
B. *Hm. I guess… you know that cherry stem bit?*
A. *Yes. I’m familiar*
B. *Well, instead, we could have done that with tongues*
A. *Oh. That’s not anything*
B. *Or… tried out kewl kissin’ tricks?*
A. *Face it, there are no fun tongue games– kissing is the fun tongue game, and we’ve turned it into a chore*
B. *A soon-to-be world record chore. Only 32-ish hours to go*
A. *Right…*
B. *Only 1 and 1/3 or so day. S.*
A. *Oh god. What are we even doing. I’m calling this*
B. *Nooo– let’s at least hit the 15 hour mark. We’re so close!*
A. *We’re going to have to break this kiss eventually!*
B. *But why stop now?!*
A. *We’re not even kissing. We’re just mushing lips together*
B. *Your jaw hurt. Your tongue*
A. *I know.*
B.
A. *I’m pulling*
B.
A. Sorry
B. 

#517

August 24 2011

A. I want a vacation.
B. Like, a divorce?
A. No. I want to take a trip.
B. Oh. Thank god.
A. Wait– did you want to break-up?
B. No. That’s why I’m thanking god.
A. But you don’t even believe in God.
B. I know! It’s a double miracle!
A. Mm. So where do you want to go?
B. On this vacation?
A. Yes.
B. Huh. I don’t know
A. I was thinking somewhere warm.
B. But it already is warm.
A. Not warm enough, though. Not in a real meaningful way.
B. Ah. So you’re thinking: the desert.
A. No.
B. Qatar, maybe?
A. Not Qatar.
B. Are we even on vacationing terms with them?
A. I don’t actually know where Qatar is.
B. But you don’t want to go there
A. I assumed ‘Middle East’ and no thanks.
B. Yeah. I want to say Saudi Arabian peninsula.
A. Ok.
B. …if that’s a place.
A. I was thinking something like Hawaii, but not Hawaii.
B. Why not Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Meh.
B. But you want to go somewhere like Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Yeh.
B. Hm. Guam?
A. That’s, part of the United States right?
B. Yeah…  I think it’s a territory.
A. Is it like Hawaii?
B. It’s in the Pacific Ocean. I think.
A. Yeah, that sounds’ right. Let’s not.
B. Yeaah.
A. I mean, I don’t know anything about there but , I feel like we would have heard more about it if it was worth a damn.
B. Harsh, but agreed.
A. Where else though?
B. New Hampshire?
A. New, no. What?
B. It’s very nice there in the summer.
A. Not nice enough.
B. You haven’t swam until you’ve swimmed in a lake.
A. I’ve swum in a lake. I’ve swem in so meny leks. It was gross.
B. Not a New Hampshire lake. That’s a lake so nice you can drink out of it. And people do!
A. You’re not selling me on this…
B. Well, it’s cheap, and we’re poor.
A. True.
B. Also, do you even have any vacation left?
A. I think I have 6 hours.
B. So anywhere we go you’d be taking a double hit.
A. Yeah.
B. New Hampshire is relatively close and they’ve got ice cream…
A. Guhh
B. Plus I played Capture the Flag there once
A. Do you think they’re still playing?
B. We did say first to 10,000 captures…
A. Maybe we could just stay here and set up a 3-4 day capture the flag game
B. With, like, tents & stuff?
A. Yeah! We can get people to live in the woods with us for a long weekend.
B. Eh… it’s gonna be hard enough to convince them to take off a Friday let alone
A. Shirts vs Skins. All weekend.
B. And we only know like, eight people
A. Bandanas. Drinking out of jugs, hidden rations
B. I mean, 5v5 would be ok, but
A. Crush berry facepaint
B. I don’t see us getting 8 yeses
A. What about Tahiti?
B. Honey.
A. Compromise!
B. We– how exactly is that a compromise?
A. Hm. Good point. Fine, I will go as low as Old Hampshire– the English countryside– but that is it.
B. How about next year?
A. Final offer, going once…
B.
A. twice…
B.
A. …Well, my vacation re-ups in November.
B. Ok. Maybe we could take a long out-of-country, unAmerican Thanksgiving.
A. We already told my parents we’d go to Ann Arbor.
B. Well that’s near Toronto. I think.
A. We’re not vacationing in Toronto.
B. You know, I’ve never been to Canada.
A. Yes you have.
B. No. When?
A. We went to the casino in Windsor two Christmasses ago.
B. That was in Detroit. Detroit, America.
A. It’s near Detroit, but no, that was Canada.
B. I object: all casinos are de facto American territory. Those classy Monte Carlo baccarateries excepted, of course.
A. Of course. But still, you’ve been to Canada.
B. That hardly counts…
A. It’s Canada! Nothing about it counts!
B. That’s not fair. Don’t take it out on Canada just because you wanted to go to Tahiti. It’s not Canada’s fault that it doesn’t have luscious naturally exploitable colorful titty lady shapes
A. You’re right. I’m sorry Canada. I apologize for your lack of noble bigtitty savagesses.
B. “All is forgiven, my child”
A. Eugh. What happened to Canada?
B. The decency gap between it and the U.S. has finally gone to its head and they’ve gone a tad beatific.
A. White shirt, white pants,
B. no shoes, white belt
A. Shirt unbuttoned, almost halfway
B. chest hair distributed such as to create a perfect self-portrait
A. Would you like me better if my name was Tad Beatific?
B. Oh, most definitely.
A. Yeah. Me too.
B. *slow nod*
A. I bet everywhere is a vacation when you’re Tad Beatific.
B. Or with!
A. Yeah.
B.
A.
B. Maybe we should break up
A. What?? You thanked God! Tad’s #1 pal!
B. But think about it, we can’t afford a vacation to somewhere else
A. No.
B. but we can afford a vacation to someone else!
A. Yeah, I saw where that was going. No.
B. I don’t even mean being romanceful with another person.
A. Just fucking.
B. No, I mean being a different person ourselves. Or… theirselves.
A. Ehh. That sounds like a pretty dumb idea.
B. What? You’re completely fine always being A****** A*****? You just said you weren’t.
A. Tad Beatific is an idea not a reality. An ideal, not real. Don’t besmirch.
B. I’m not besmirching. But why can’t you be Tad Beatific?
A. Lack of white belt and insufficiently mimetic chest hairs?
B. Sure, but you could still for a week be the most placid and accepting and condescendingly transcendent judgmentally non-judgmental piece of shit!
A. That doesn’t sound fun though. Not for more than a day.
B. We could just do a day. Even cheaper, time-wise.
A. Well who would you be?
B. A Private Detective.
A. Wow. You had that ready to go.
B. I always wanted to be a PI but was too… an actual human person.
A. Yeah, I don’t think that’s a real thing.
B. No, it is. But they mostly just take pictures of cheating spouses and hack voicemails. Gross.
A. So what would your vacation even entail? You don’t have a ‘case’, you can’t just get cases. And apparently they aren’t even real cases just weirdo snooping.
B. Actually, I’ve sort of had my eye on our upstairs neighbor for a while.
A. Mr. Galley?
B. Yeah. Mr. Galley…
A. Why him? I mean, whadja like him for, Skip?
B. Skip?
A. Dickles?
B. Mick. Mick Fleetfoot.
A. The Fleetwood Mac guy?
B. No. That’s Mick Fleetwood.
A. That’s awful similar don’t you think.
B. Everyone just calls me Mick anyways.
A. Of course. So, Mr. Galley?
B. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on his wife…
A. But that’s exactly what you said you don’t want to do!
B. Well not if someone tells me that he’s cheating and then I catch him cheating. That’s not a real investigation, that’s…
A. A private investigation?
B. Homework. No, I’m going to figure the whole thing out all on my own. If he is, who with, when, where, how
A. How? Like, in the mouth or in the butt?
B. No. How he’s getting away with it. Why she hasn’t found out.
A. What if she does know. Maybe they have an open marriage.
B. Huh. I didn’t think of that.
A. In fact, I have seen her at the bar we do trivia at, usually with men who aren’t Mr. Galley…
B. Really? Oh man, I gotta writ
A. No.
B. this, down. How come?
A. You bit so easy on such nothing. I don’t think this vacation idea is going to work. We should just go to the Seychelles instead.
B. You’re the worst.
A. You run into a lot of creeps and slimeballs when you’re Skip Dickle.
B. Ugh. Fine. We don’t have to do an out-of-self vacation.
A. And I guess we can put off doing an out-of-state vacation for now
B. But who would you have gone to?
A. Er, pardon?
B. Who would you have been? Instead.
A. Huh. A billionaire who could go to Tahiti, or their own private Tahiti equivalent.
B. No, you have to choose something real, something possible.
A. Actually, the idea of a private Tahiti equivalent sounds pretty miserable. Unless you could also pay other people to also be touristing there at the same time
B. Chooose
A. Hold on, I’m thinking this through– because even though you sort of hate other tourists, for being obnoxious, and for reflecting your own stupid touristness back at your,  you still need other people. Especially other people as desperate for other people to validate their vacationness back at them. Reflect the good stuff too
B. And the f
A. Please don’t interrupt me
B. O, kay
A. No, jk jk. What were you going to say?
B. Well, that it besides them also having the same tourist expectations you also, both, have nothing but free time and can act accordingly.
A. Yeah. Great. Right.
B. Ok. So you would probably want to go as an asshole?
A. I think that actually implies that I’m not being an asshole right now, but I feel you. I feel you.
B. Feel away.
A. Hm. *feel*
B. Mmm. Seriously though
A. Srsly *feel feel*
B. If you could vacation away from your own,  dumb self for a week or so
A. Hmm *feel (cont.)* Maybe an old movie star.
B. Noo. It has to be somethin-uhh. Somethinnnn. Uh-tttainable.
A. No, you miss my meaning. *f-e-e-l* I don’t want to be an actual movie star, I just want to be an oblivious, high-class, fashionable anachronism.
B. Oh. Like, ahhh ah.
A . Like all dress-up and affectational *keeps feeling* and out-of-touch and a hard to discern mix of senility and entitlement. Walk out on checks. Convince a grocery person to push the cart for me and put stuff in it *feels feels feels feels feels*.
B. Guhuhhhhh uh, uh, uh, recreational wheelchair an, and full-face sunnnnnglasss-eh-eh-ehs
A. Exactly!
B. I’m. I’m all felt. I’m your ‘on the town’ matching pants/vest/hat combo.
A. Ha.
B. Uhhh. Phew.
A. Make-believe aside, I think you’re actually on to something vacation-wise.
B. Huh? New Hampshire?
A. Mutual sick day into long naked weekend.
B. Sold!
A. Now let’s go grab a fedora so you can Mick the shit out of me.
B. Already have one.
A. Bahhh. Creep.
B. A soon to be multi-day nude creep.
A. Aren’t they all?
B. Fair point.
A. Vaacaatioon.

#198 & #870

August 16 2011

A. Never will I ever… win an American League Cy Young.
B. Really ruling things out, huh.
A. National League: who can say.
B. Ok. Never will I ever… eat my weight in cocktail shrimp.
A. How about a thirdweight?
B. I don’t foresee it, no.
A. Pity. Never will I ever make first chair of the London Philharmonic.
B. Not even for triangle?
A. Do they keep doing that past 1st grade?
B. I could have sworn I heard something on NPR about professional trianglers.
A. OH right. They prefer ‘Triangulators’. Go.
B. Never will I ever… raise an endangered African rhino as a human child.
A. … the game really loses something when you go the other way with it.
B. No. I think it’s just that we’re going too far the other way with it.
A. ‘Splain how.
B. Well, if we were playing Never have I ever, but then said the same things we’ve been saying for Never will I ever, it would still be equally worthless.
A. You may have a point.
B. Yeah. I guess I do.
A. Never will I ever … have sex on the first date.
B. Really?
A. Sorry.
B. Is this an Aaliyah thing, or
A. a) Monica b) Only slightly. More an I don’t even know you thing.
B. Fair enough. Never will I ever… cry at a movie.
A. I don’t believe you.
B. Never have, never will.
A. What? Not even A League of Their Own?
B. A League of Their… what? Why that?
A. She gives up her own dreams for that stupid sister of hers. And then Tom Hanks dies, and they see his grave at the Hall of Fame, and that dumb jerk kid survived but he didn’t. It’s, very emotional.
B. I was just mad that she dropped the ball.
A. She loved her sister THAT much.
B. Ugh. Her sister was an asshole.
A. Well. The good news is that the Aaliyah Memorial Not the First Night policy is a moot point.
B. I.
A. Never have I ever
B. Never will you ever.
A. Never WILL I ever, own a house.
B. Give it time.
A. Don’t be presumptuous. I just don’t want a house is all.
B. And my friend Maria swore she would never get married. Two husbands later…
A. … you just sort of trailed off there.
B. She’s been married twice!
A. Oh. I thought you had new Hot Scoops about Maria.
B. …No.
A. Oh well. Your turn.
B. What if the economy– some how– gets worse and worse, and for whatever reason you are completely unaffected, so that for you buying a house becomes equivalent to getting a car, or a really nice guitar.
A. Do I still have to maintain it, and the property, and pay insurance, and have a mortgage, and live outside the city, and thus have a car, and
B. Mortgage, maybe not. The others yes.
A. I just don’t really want a house and don’t foresee that changing.
B. Huh.
A. Yep.
B. I guess this is a bad time to tell you I am actually just a super stealth real estate agent playing you for the long con.
A. Hm. I would actually welcome that revelation at this or any time.
B. Shoot. Well it’s a lie.
A. Sad. Who doesn’t love a good long con.
B. Probably the people who get long conned, losing not just their money or property but also their time and ability to trust human beings ever again.
A. But what a punchline!
B. Ha?
A. Seriously. You’re 87 years old, you’ve been married to this person for 51 years. They come to your deathbed and tell you that, you know, they were just in it for the money the whole time. You wouldn’t laugh?
B. I, don’t think that counts. Or happens.
A. Yeah, I know. But how sweet that would be to see that happen.
B. Was that really a long con? The cost-benefit on 51 years of daily commitment…
A. Nah. They’re just doing a cute hospice bit.
B. I see.
A. Do you? Your turn.
B. Never will I ever eat meat again.
A. What?
B. I think I’m a vegetarian now.
A. C’mon. You have to do a real one.
B. No really though. I was thinking about it this morning and I think I’m going to do it.
A. But never will you ever?
B. I think so.
A. I… still don’t believe you.
B. You don’t even know me though.
A. Still.
B. For all you know I could be a vegan already.
A. No you couldn’t. Also, that would be a really weird lie to tell.
B. That I’m vegan?
A. That you were vegan but then told me that you were thinking of becoming vegetarian.
B. But think of the story behind it. Long c
A. Yeah. Weird. Sort of gross.
B. I’m still doing it, though.
A. I’m sorry. I can’t say that I believe you will. But it’s cool that you want to, I guess.
B. You didn’t even ask why I wanted to though…
A. Ok. Shoot.
B. Ok.
A. …Well?
B. So, for the past week and a half I’d been looking forward to Friday night. We’d been putting together a new contract with a major client, and everything was coming together. Friday was our deadline, so to celebrate we my boss was taking us to Ruth’s Chris.
A. I hear they are good at making steaks.
B. Exactly. So I was pretty excited to eat a steak that costs as much as I made to work that day.
A. You only make fifty dollars a day?
B. I think it might have been even less than that… no. I was being fun.
A. Ah.
B. It’s like being funny, except not actually funny.
A. Understood, continue with your steak story.
B. Yeah. So, I was really looking forward to this steak. And Friday comes, and the deal goes down, and everyone is excited, and we head to the restaurant, and Anne doesn’t even let us see the menu, she’s just filets all around, and gets all these appetizers. I sort of wanted a T-bone, but whatever.
A. Can’t fight the filet.
B. Would be a fool to try. So I get the steak, and it is, well its perfect. Has the jus, it’s that perfect pink and red. I like asparagus. And I take that first bite. And it is absolutely frigging delicious.
A. Oh, don’t mince your oaths.
B. Fine. It is really, *fucking* good.
A. So good that no ever steak– or any animal corpse– could ever again possibly sate or slake your lust for blood and muscle…
B. I’m not done yet, cool it PETA.
A. You’re the born-again ‘vegetarian.’ I still eat meat.
B. So the first bite is really .fucking. good. And I take the second bite and it’s also good. And the third bite, is still good, but. I don’t know.
A. Your tastebuds limped out on you.
B. Yeah. Sort of. I mean, I wanted to like it. I thought. In the moment I tried to tell myself I did like it. But…
A. You still wanted to be friends.
B. I couldn’t even finish it.
A. Steak, I know this is a cliche, but
B. My boss, and everyone I work with, they started to rip on me and so I had to make up a lie about how I had felt sick at work and stuff.
A. HAD to. Can’t let them know you didn’t like your food hunk.
B. Like I really slow-played it, too. Started off just saying that I didn’t feel so hot. But then also, when I thought people were looking, I’d like touch my side, but only a little. Or give a tight teeth ‘powering-through’ face. Even when they weren’t looking, just for realism.
A. Wow.
B. I even convinced myself enough so that when I got home I wrapped my arm around the bowl for like six minutes, seeing if I’d hurl. But I wasn’t sick.
A. You were just an insane maniac.
B. …No. I just, didn’t like it anymore. Not even that. It just stopped doing anything for me entirely.
A. So now meat gets dumped.
B. I think so. Yeah.
A. You’ll be back. Trust me.
B. Thanks.
A. Hey, I don’t think *I* could do it.
B. … Your turn.
A. Never will I ever ride a horse.
B. Good riddance.
A. Word.
B. Never will I ever… eat
A. You already did eat
B. Let me finish
A. Fine
B. Another human being
A. …are you kidding me?
B. Not even if my plane crashes and that is the only way to survive, no.
A. That’s weak. I mean, there’s almost zero chance of that being an issue. Also, of course you will.
B. Man, are you going to doubt every one of mine.
A. No, not if you play right. And acknowledge the human survival instinct.
B. Ugh. So we can probably call this a date.
A. Aw, c’mon.
B. I think I’d really rather not
A. No, no. Come on.
B. Sorry, I just don’t think it’s going to work.
A. Blank slate, blank slate!
B. Blank slate?
A. We got off to a bad start. Why not try again.
B. Eh, I don’t think so.
A. I mean, your night is already spoken for– I assume you don’t have anything better to do
B. Sleep?
A. So why not try?
B. …but I already put on my coat
A. See, you got nothing. You’ve already invested your time, and that is a sunk cost that you are not ever getting back, so you may as well give it a shot because effort is free.
B. *sighs; takes off coat* So, what now?
A. Hey! You must be boxfulofboxes.
B. Yeah. I am. And… reticulatingsplines?
A. Indeed, indeed. I should say here before we start over that I did lie about one of my answers.
B. But we already did start over
A. Gotta clean that slate, only way to blank it.
B. Ok. Which one, Blanket?
A. I have not and cannot live up to Aaliyah’s shining example.
B. Monica.
A. Aw, good catch! So yeah, just wanted to try not to. Maybe that is why I was so distrustful of yours.
B. I. I lied too.
A. I ffFucking knew it.
B. I cried at Milo & Otis. And Fox and the Hound. I was seven, though.
A. Oh. …LIAR
B. I know. I know. — Dogs and cats, man.
A. I’m just playing.
B. They were such good friends…
A. Never will I ever
B. Oh, right
A. garden.
B. You’re breaking poor Voltaire’s heart.
A. I tend to.
B. Well played. Someone passed AP English.
A. Or is it I cultivate to…
B. Eh, depends on the translation. Never will I ever… crowdsurf.
A. You don’t long to feel the lap of sweaty hands against, slash grabbing, slash all up in your butt’scrack?
B. No, I just said I didn’t want to crowdsurf. Let’s not rule anything out.
A. So notruled.
B. Your turn.
A. Never will I ever fall in love with you.
B. Oh gofuckyourself.
A. Sorry.





A. I was eating a bell pepper at lunch today and thought of you.

A. Because it was full of seeds.

A. Hello?