Archive for 2011

I Know Why That Is. It’s Be­cause Je­sus Does­n’t Love Them!

Lit­tle boy, notic­ing the hol­i­day snowflake dec­o­ra­tions on street lamps: Mom­my, I know why those are Christ­mas dec­o­ra­tions, not Thanks­giv­ing dec­o­ra­tions.
Mom: Oh? Why’s that?
Lit­tle boy: Be­cause the peo­ple who put up the dec­o­ra­tions don’t cel­e­brate Thanks­giv­ing!
Mom: That is ab­solute­ly right.

–Car­roll Gar­dens

Over­heard by: tay­lor

Best. Blowjob. Ever.

Hip­ster #1: Where’d her teeth go?
Hip­ster #2: On the ground. Per­fect­ly in­tact.

–Riv­ing­ton & Forsyth

Over­heard by: Nan­cy

…So You’ll Do It on YouTube Again?

Moth­er to child not sit­ting still on the train: I will smack the shit out of you in front of every­body!
Child, paus­ing: Every­body?

–L Train

Over­heard by: reid.damnit

O Wednes­day One-Lin­er, Where Art Thou?

Large guy to small Asian woman: So yeah, I guess we’re friends. (pause) You slept with my broth­er! Why did you do that?

–Co­lum­bia Cam­pus

Over­heard by: sens­ing re­pressed hos­til­i­ty

Male voice: My daugh­ter by her and my son by this oth­er woman are on­ly two weeks apart.

–5th Ave & 32nd St

Man on phone: Hi Mark, it’s Roc­co … Your broth­er.

–Mer­cer & Bleeck­er

Col­lege guy: I did­n’t even know he was my broth­er un­til I was 17. He was al­ways at the house, and I just thought he was like this old­er broth­er fig­ure. Then I found out he was ac­tu­al­ly my broth­er.

–F Train

Over­heard by: Book­girl

He Who Smelt It, Wednes­day One-Linered It!

NYU girl: It smells like some­one’s ass­hole just fell out.

–St. Mark’s

Girl on cell: You smelled good, but, like… Your armpits smelled like sweat.

–Q Train

Over­heard by: Jon A.

Guy to girl: Some­thing smells like shit… I think I for­got to wipe this morn­ing.

–1 Train

Triv­ia night bar pa­tron to his friends: The thing about Sa­van­nah is it’s re­al­ly re­al­ly hot, but it smells like dog shit.

–Pub, Red Hook

Over­heard by: KP Whitey

Woman: It smelled like he had burned a baby’s di­a­per out of his mouth.

–Dempsey’s Pub, 2nd Ave & 4th St

Over­heard by: Eww.

Ask a Stu­pid Wednes­day, Get a Stu­pid One-Lin­er

Stu­dent: Guys, who wrote the di­ary of Anne Frank?


Over­heard by: Genald

Chick, read­ing check af­ter birth­day din­ner: Damn, who or­dered the gra­tu­ity? That shit was ex­pen­sive!

–Busy Restau­rant, Meat­pack­ing Dis­trict

Girl to friend: That’s Broad­way… Is­n’t that where all the fa­mous peo­ple are?


Girl: Is the g train like the short one? Like a short bus?


Over­heard by: Bruce Lee

Man in Min­neso­ta twins hat at Pride Pa­rade, watch­ing se­quined rain­bow flag twirlers, cross-dressed pole dancers and flocks of pea­cocks: Ex­cuse me, can you tell me what pa­rade this is?

–Christo­pher & Bleeck­er

Over­heard by: Mar­i­lyn

Wednes­day One-Lin­ers Get “Mom” in a Heart on Their Bi­ceps

Mid­dle aged la­dy on cell: Yeah, so I just got an awe­some new vagi­na tat­too, want me to come over and show it to you?

–3rd St & 4th Ave

Over­heard by: Isaac A

Meat­head to friend: Peo­ple see the workas more in da ware­house than in da of­fice, that’s why I nev­er got a neck tat­too. Every­body has at least one or two tat­toos nowa­days, that’s why it’s not like a ba­boon any­more.


Over­heard by: a taboo?

Hoochie to friend: Is my tramp stamp show­ing? I don’t want to look hoish…

–5th Ave & 23rd St

Thug with arm wrapped in pa­per tow­el to friend: I just got a tat­too of my ba­by ma­ma’s lips on my arm. No, not her, the oth­er one. I got two ba­by ma­mas. Two hags. Wan­na know why I got her lips? Cause I used to live with her. But I had to go. She bit me here, stabbed me here. I had to run from her, and I don’t even run from nig­gas.

–F Train

Five-year-old boy: I wan­na get a tat­too on my neck of the num­ber 6 and the num­ber 9!

–196th St & Broad­way

Over­heard by: Karen

I Sup­pose We Could Talk to Each Oth­er. *Sigh*

Ta­ble full of gay guys: Let’s every­body up­date our Face­book pro­files! Right now!
(lots of tap­ping on cells)
Gay guy: Face­book is so hard on a black­ber­ry!

–Bleek­er & Christo­pher