Women Say the Darndest Things

Being a 25 year old single guy in D.C., I get to meet some of the most spiritual and emotionally challenging women the country has to offer. The female population of this great city never disappoints. By the way, if any of you guys are looking for dating tips, here is my strategy: always buy an over sized box of chocolates and a dozen roses for your women. Quote the Princess Bride as much as possible. Also, ask them to dance at restaurants, even if no one else is dancing. I always employ that move, and to be quite honest, it hasn’t worked once. Some of them even got visibly upset with me. One girl dumped a pitcher of water on my head. I thought she could have gone with just the glass, but she made the life decision to go for the whole pitcher. Guess that’s her call.

My weirdest encounter with a woman has been covered here, but luckily some others have provided me with choice bits of conversation in a new feature I like to call Women Say the Darndest Things:

I was out with some other comics at a bar after an open mic. At the booth next to us, a couple of Ukrainian girls watched a magician do tricks. After he was done, someone told them we were comedians. One of the girls went off after hearing this. She pulls up a chair, makes a big production of it, and demands that I tell her a joke. I’m not some dancing bear from the circus, so I ask her to tell her something interesting about herself first. You’re from Eastern Europe, and I’m from the greatest country on Earth. I don’t have to prove myself to you, Breadline Betty; I take hot showers daily. So I figure this is a win-win: I’ll tell her a joke and make her laugh if she can prove that she’s interesting and can justify me continuing to talk to her.

Blank stare. Then she points to her friend and drops this nugget on me: “We live together.”

Well, I just about proposed on the spot. I can’t remember being more bowled over by anyone on a first encounter. I mean, no one has ever lived with anyone else in all of recorded history, so this girl kind of knocked my proverbial socks off. She could have told me what she does for a living, or her interests, or what she had for lunch that day, but she went ahead and she actually took it to the next level. She didn’t do what everybody else does; she got intense and actually clarified her living arrangements. Be still my heart. Do I hear Ukrainian wedding bells in my future? I think I just might.

I’m texting back and forth with this other girl (who plays the flute), and I jokingly say that I’ve grown out my hair into a ‘fro. She says, “Yeah, and I won the National Fute Competition.” A few minutes later: “I meant ‘flute.'”

This had to be embarrassing for her, for a number of reasons:

A) She misspelled flute.
B) Even after she corrected herself…well, she plays the flute.

On the flip side of that coin, one day she could audition for Jethro Tull. Not a lot of people can say that.

This past weekend I went on a road trip to the bustling metropolis of Orange, Virginia for two nights of shows with my boy Courtney and his wife, my sister from another mister, Erika. We stayed at the lovely Red Carpet Inn. Just to give you a little background on this hotel: I don’t know what premiere from Hell this red carpet was for, but there’s no way I would go to it. It’s a premiere where the biggest celebrity is one of the Lesser Baldwins.

Anyway, Friday night after the show we were chilling in the room and we noticed a bug on the wall. We laughed at it and thought it was kind of cute. The next morning we woke up and saw no less than 13 more of his brothers there with him. We went down to the lovely cherub at the front desk to explain our situation and ask for a new room.

This stunning strumpet listens carefully, and when we’re done, she pauses and look at us. “Were the bugs little, fat, and brown?”

Yes, they were, we said.

She smiled a knowing smile and nodded her head, as if to say, “Oh…..those bugs.”

What did she expect us to do? Agree with her? “Oh, how rude of us! Those bugs belong there, don’t they? I’m sure they’re just part of the decor. We’re going to go back to the room and see if we can make things more comfortable for them.”

Before anyone thinks I’m trashing the establishment, let it be known I was mistaken: those bugs actually worked there. We had a very polite cricket chamber maid named Lucinda. Didn’t speak much English, but she was a lovely gal who chirped beautifully. Also, a june bug dressed like a butler brought us a silver platter filled with bacon. We ordered eggs and sausage, but it was still effort.

A roach put a mint on my pillow. You get the idea, so….

A praying mantis brought us fluffy, white towels.

Via email, and in the spirit of the holiday season, I got this question: “What are you going as for Thanksgiving?”

Yes! I love this idea and I plan to run with it. I can’t wait to see the look on Mom’s face when I show up dressed as Batman, clutching a bowl of yams.

As much as I want to give her credit for this one, I believe me, Jim, and Greg got here first on this idea when we showed up for the 1995 Eltringham Family Thanksgiving wearing the uniform of the Three Amigos. Six year old Amy wasn’t as thrilled to be dressed like El Guapo.


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