August 24, 2006

Dear Drunk Dudes in Game Day Wrigleyville,

(Somehow, every time I end up heading to i.O. for a show or to meet a comedy person, it's always game day, and the streets are packed with drunk people, and I'm always alone and/or on my bike, which apparently are two key things you need to prompt drunk morons to leer and suavely try to chat you up. I've never felt as smug about being sober as I have while braving these crowds. And I don't like feeling smug about anything.)

So, Dear Drunk Dudes,
To answer your most frequently asked questions:

1. Yes, I know my hair is red.
2. No, it's not real. I ripped it off Lindsay Lohan's head.
3. I'm getting on my bike and going home.
4. No, I don't want a beer.
5. No, I can't agree with you that "WOO!"
6. Yes, I know my hair is red.
7. Yes, you are the first person tonight who's told me I'm "hot." Am I the first person tonight who's told you you're drunk? Really drunk. And, dude, it's not even dark yet. Ease up.
8. No, I won't give you a ride on my bike, or on my anything else.
9. No, it's not that I don't like baseball. I love baseball. Especially playing it. Fielding ground balls, stealing bases, stuff like that. When's the last time you picked up a mitt? You don't seem to really like baseball as much as you like beer, yelling at random strangers on the street, and acting like a dumbass.
10. Yes, I know my hair is red.

No comments: