Archive for the ‘Williamsburg’ Category

Wednes­day One-Lin­ers Won’t Re­mem­ber This To­mor­row

Loud, shit-faced Asian girl to strangers: You want some of this? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love sex. [falls for­ward, taps stranger on fore­head.] her­ro! Any­body home?! [laughs hys­ter­i­cal­ly].

–Metro North

Drunk chick: Fuck tech­nol­o­gy, first it kills the bees, now it’s killing my ovaries!

–A Train

Drunk guy: Last night I shit on my balls!

–Williams­burg

Over­heard by: Con­fab­u­la­tion Na­tion

Drunk girl to drunk boyfriend: Well, you fin­gered me in the cab!

–A Train

Drunk prep­py busi­ness­man: Just tell her to put the oil in the noo­dles and rub it all over the chest…

–33rd & Broad­way

Over­heard by: volup­tuous­grl

Drunk girl in the bath­room, pick­ing up plas­tic bag from the garbage: Whose ba­by is this?!?!

–Madi­son Square Gar­den Bath­room

Wednes­day One-Lin­ers Re­mem­ber elim­i­DATE Fond­ly

Man on cell: Yeah man, she is so not any­one that I would be will­ing to in­vest years in… I mean I don’t want to have to spend my time ac­tu­al­ly work­ing on it. I fig­ured, hell, I kind of want to wake up next to some­one a cou­ple of days a week, so I might as well hang on through the sum­mer. No, she has no idea…

–Colum­bus & 62nd St

Grad stu­dent: They have this sym­bi­ot­ic re­la­tion­ship in which he does all the eat­ing and she does all the drink­ing.

–Co­lum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

Woman to her­self: God, I asked you for a good man; not a fuck­ing joke!

–Spring & Hud­son

Over­heard by: Os­car Gam­ble

Fire­fight­er to oth­ers: It’s not that I have any­thing against com­mit­ment; I just like di­ver­si­ty.

–125th St Fair­way

Over­heard by: Just Shop­pint

Man in shorts to an­oth­er: I would­n’t date a girl with dou­ble vi­sion, pe­ri­od.

–Williams­burg

Over­heard by: Dr No-Eyes

Busi­ness­woman to hobo: If you get back in the dat­ing scene, I’ll kill you.

–Hous­ton & Lafayette

Over­heard by: Home­less guy must be hung

Next Time Try It on a Goth Kid

Crazy old la­dy to young clerk: What­sa mat­ter, you don’t like old ladies? If I was forty years younger, I would eat you up like an, like an ap­ple. [to old­er clerk] C’mere gimme a kiss. C’­mon gimme a kiss. What are you, scared? I’d have you lay­ing out in my fu­ner­al par­lour in a pine box. What do you think if we skinned the knish? They’ll wrap you in sheet and ship you back to Yemen. You want to ride the bull with me? You’ll de­cide you love Amer­i­ca.

–Grand & Bush­wick, Williams­burg