Conversation of the Weekend

Butch McGuire's, 3 a.m., Friday.

Me: So, don't you think I'm like so hot?

Girl: Yeah, I think you're hot. You're really cute.

Me: Really cute?

Girl: Yeah, really cute.

Me: Hot?

Girl: Yeah, you're hot.

Me: How hot?

Girl: I don't know. It's kind of subjective.

Me: Then objectify me. I won't mind.

Girl: And how am I supposed to do that?

Me: Give me a number.

Girl: What? You want my number?

Me: No, I want a number. Grade my looks 1 through 10, 1 being Quasimodo, 10 being Brad Pitt.

Girl: Hmmm... I don't know.

Me: C'mon, grade me, turn me into a piece of meat, it'll be fun! I'll even take my sunglasses off so you can see my beautiful blue eyes and lashes.

Girl: Dude, you have the smallest butt I've ever seen. So super-cute! And your eyes are like a deep ocean blue. Very pretty eyes! And women would kill for your eyelashes.

Me: Yeah, I've heard all that before. Thanks. So...

Girl: Hmmm. I guess I'd give you an 8.5.

Me: What? 8.5? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! It's not like these points are currency or anything. If you use them on me, it's not like you can't use them on other people. They're like free flirting money. Why are you being so cheap?

Girl: I'm not being cheap!

Me: So, c'mon, round me up. What's the big deal? Tell me I'm a 9.

Girl: Well, ok, fine, I guess. You're a 9.

Me: Then what the fuck am I talking to your 6 ass for?!