Archive for December, 2009

That Advil Com­mer­cial That Nev­er Made It to TV

Woman to man she just met: I live in Brook­lyn, and I’m on my way to see my man in the Bronx. My moth­er said to me, “must be some kin­da love if you trav­el all the way to the Bronx for a man!“
Man: Uh-huh! That’s right! It’s got to be good lovin’, too!
Woman: You know what I’m say­ing? Don’t talk to me ’bout no headache, ’cause I can’t do this every­day!

–1 Train

Wednes­day Smells So Bad, One-Lin­ers Can Taste It

Pony­tailed girl on cell, ex­cit­ed­ly: Maybe you have, like, bac­te­r­i­al vagi­nosis or some­thing! Yeah! That would ex­plain it. No, you don’t wan­na smell like cin­na­mon down there, cin­na­mon toast crotch!

–86th & Lex­ing­ton

Girl, walk­ing on­to stinky train car: Oh, shit, yo! It smells like a whole mess of hot ass up in this piece.

–L Train

Loud singing teen, stop­ping in mid-song: Damn! Some­body smell like soup!

–F Train

Over­heard by: bpm

Smelly woman on el­e­va­tor: I’­ma kick that man’s butt. I don’t smell that strong!

–Of­fice Build­ing, Harlem

Over­heard by: Liz

Man: This place smells like vene­re­al dis­ease!

–Port Au­thor­i­ty Sub­way Tun­nel

Over­heard by: Court­ney

Guy on cell: Who knows what I can do now that I don’t smell like dogshit. The sky is the lim­it. (pause) Yeah, no more liv­ing in fear!

–27th & 5th

Wednes­day One-Lin­ers Are Go­ing Through a Stage

The­ater geek: So I was look­ing at au­di­tions for this post-apoc­a­lyp­tic dra­ma, and the ad said, “we’re look­ing for men, all shapes and sizes. Ac­tu­al­ly no, you have to be ridicu­lous­ly skin­ny, to­tal­ly ema­ci­at­ed, on the verge of death. And… oh yeah, you have to have stringy hair. And be re­al­ly bony. And my dad said, “you def­i­nite­ly need to try out for this!”

–TK­TS Booth, Times Square

Over­heard by: Not Ema­ci­at­ed

Guy: No, I did­n’t do the graphics–I mean, the play’s about Adam and Eve, but do they put naked peo­ple on the post­card to sell tick­ets? No, they have a car­toon of an ap­ple. I don’t un­der­stand.

–Minet­ta Lane The­ater

Over­heard by: Dun­can Pflaster

Bath­room at­ten­dant at West Side Sto­ry: C’­mon, peo­ple! Short line, long in­ter­mis­sion! (toi­let flush­es) Hear that? That’s mu­sic to some­body’s blad­der!

–Palace The­atre

Over­heard by: Mag­gie

Au­di­ence mem­ber, at in­ter­val of Ai­da: Hey, this is bet­ter than Grease!

–Met­ro­pol­i­tan Opera

Dis­grun­tled ush­er: I swear by every god of Jupiter that these are your seats.

–The Am­bas­sador The­atre, 49th & Broad­way

Over­heard by: The Moons of Jupiter Were Al­ready Spo­ken For

Wednes­day Undie-Lin­ers

Guy: Oh, man! It is not a good day to be my un­der­wear!

–Wine Store, 75th & Am­s­ter­dam

Over­heard by: Raven

10-year-old to lit­tle broth­er: Hey! C’mere! You wan­na play Cap­tain Un­der­pants?

–Brook­lyn

Over­heard by: dog­boy

Guy on cell: I’m not pay­ing her to smell your un­der­wear!

–57th St & Broad­way

Over­heard by: Lagsa­lot

Loud old­er gen­tle­man watch­ing peo­ple at sub­way en­trance: They don’t wear brassieres any­more!

–23rd St & 6th Ave

Over­heard by: Zom­bie Boyfriend

Old­er la­dy in fu­ner­al pro­ces­sion be­hind bag piper wear­ing kilt: I looked. He’s wear­ing un­der­pants.

–120th & Broad­way