Three attractive college women stand on a street corner waiting for a bus. Their male peers pass by on the sidewalk, often gawking unabashedly at the women with whom they must know, on some level, they will never really get to hook up. The women clearly want this reaction, though, as they are dressed in outfits tailored exclusively for use in nightclubs, with cigarettes hanging coolly from three right hands and tiny, showy purses tucked under three left arms.
As I pass, I overhear this snippet of conversation:
Girl #1: I didn’t throw up everywhere. I threw up once in the bathroom.
Girl #2: Well I threw up all night, and then kept going in the morning.
To think: college guys were walking right past them without even attempting to get their phone numbers!
All I can envision is the scene in Big Bang Theory where the nerdy physicists attend a Halloween party and Sheldon analyzes the other guests’ conversations, “like Jane Goodall observing the apes.”
Sheldon: It seems that the newcomer approaches the existing group with the greeting, “How wasted am I?” which is met with an approving chorus of, “Dude!”
Leonard: Then what happens?
Sheldon: That’s as far as I’ve gotten.
Me too, my fictional friend. Me too.