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Actual conversations overheard from out of actual stupid people's mouths. As originally reported in the Maryland Cow Nipple.


From someone behind me in an econ lecture:

So Crystal told Eric that she hooked up with Jaret and liked it, and she wanted to date Jaret and not Eric but Jaret had to break up with his girlfriend Beth? So she told him he could get in her while she was waiting, but not after? Just to be mean? But he took it seriously and like was looking around for a condom. You know? So Crystal's out the door and Eric's like going through his underwear drawer looking for a condom, she said. She's out the door and there's Jaret with his hand on Emily's butt. And he's like totally looking at her boobs, and smiling at her and hanging over her and really looking whipped. And you remember that Emily took Crystal's last boyfriend, who was really hot. I think his name was like Brian or something. But Emily--Emily's wearing like a little ho skirt and a ho top. Her boobs were like on display. Like, you know, fire sale, first buyer, make an offer. You know, a ho skirt, with the slit and junk. You know that one you wore when you went to the club that time and got hit on by that Iranian guy who said his dad owned like seventy oil rigs and could he grease you up? That kind of skirt. No I didn't say you were a ho! But you wear that skirt to the club and not like around on the sidewalk. So Brian went away to his "summer internship," and Crystal found out that "summer internship" was like Emily's apartment. Three weeks and then she sees him buying milk and Trojans at Wawa. So there's history.

Jaret's touchy-feeling Emily and Crystal walks up and says, like, "What are you doing with this slut?" and Jaret's like, "Whatever I want." I know, classy. So she's like "Weren't you going to break up with Beth?" and Jaret's like, "I did, now I can play the field." I know, like, classier. And Emily like smiles at Crystal—you know that smile she does, where her mouth looks like it's going to like swallow her face? And she bends her neck down just a bit. And she says, "I think you better step off my man or he's gonna step on you." I know it doesn't make sense, but you know Emily, she's not the brightest headlight in the parking lot. She like got boob implants from her brain, you know? I'm not mean! I'm telling you, that would like explain it. So Crystal is still carrying this picture of herself she took from Eric, it has a silver frame and glass. And she just beats Emily's face with it. Yeah, the glass broke but it didn't cut anyone, oh boo hoo. But Emily's like crying onto her ho tits and Jaret's like "If we hadn't hooked up I'd beat you." Then Emily says, "You hooked up with her?" And then she hits him, I mean Jaret. But anyway, Crystal was kind of upset so that's probably why she wasn't at the party. I know she likes you, boo hoo. She's a nice girl, not a slut like Emily. Anyway, so how did it go?


Some of the above was embellished a bit, but this next one, from a a young, professionally dressed Asian-American woman speaking on her cell phone on the 151 bus in the great city of Chicago, is as real as it gets. The names have been changed to protect the vapid.

Okay, so, like, what should I do? You know? I'm just getting really sick of this, like, everything. I just, like, can't deal with this. Because that dress is so not going to fit in my budget right now. Well. Yeah? But if Darren, the dressmaker, can tell I'm... If Darren, the dressmaker, who doesn't even know me, can tell I'm upset, and Emily can't... Well, she said I can come to the wedding but I can't be in the wedding. Like, I'm flying out there to be there already. So I told her, like, you know, $400 just isn't going into my budget so she's just like "You can't be in the wedding." [dissatisfied grunt] I told her! I told her, it's not that I don't think her dress is pretty or her taste is bad, it's just that I can't do it in my budget, but I am coming out there and... Yeah? Well. But, I mean, you know? She just said it. Like, she didn't say, "Maybe I can pay for it" or "We could split it" or "You can do something else," she just says "You can't be in the wedding." Well?!? I'm just... Because she didn't even ask me, that's why. I'm sitting there and thinking, "I just can't deal with this right now." You know? Like, this is not something I'm willing to deal with from her. You know? Because this is not the first time she's, like, done something like this to me. Well, like... Well, Emily... Do you think Emily is even capable of not being in a self-involved friendship? Because... A self-involved friendship. You know? Well. Well, you know, a lot of people say they want to be kind or generous or whatever, say they want to be something, but that doesn't mean that's what they can actually be. You know? Like... Hold on, I'm at my stop.


Two encounters on the subways of New York in the summer of 2001 proved that stupid people live everywhere. This first was was delivered by a dippy-looking white girl talking with what appeared to be her mother. Her logic has been preserved in its impenetrability. It was overheard on the 7 train to Queens, where, as John Rocker will tell you, you can meet a lot of interesting people.

She acts all superior and everything? But I'm definitely smarter than her. Even in the humanities! I was...we went to a museum, 'cause I just wanted to show her, like, all these famous paintings. And we got one of those tours and she couldn't even tell the numbers. [?] But she like knows, like, where restaurants are and stuff. [pause] What? [pulls shirt back down over midriff]

This next one features a tanned white girl and a pasty white boy who, judging by their subsequent conversation, are both Greeks at some fine institution of learning. It took place on a 4 train which should have been going downtown from Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall, but at the time was pausing for some insane NY subway reason.

Tanned White Girl: I almost had to go to summer school for real once.

Pasty White Guy: Really?

TWG: Yeah, for algebra. You had to get a 70 to pass and I got a 71.

PWG: On average?

TWG: Yeah.

PWG: That's 'cause you shot up too much. [jocular nudge to TWG]

[long pause, TWG looks away from PWG]

TWG: I hate it when the trains move anyway.


This most amazing conversation I have ever overheard was yelled by a young white man into a cell phone while waiting in line at Chipotle. He had to yell to make himself heard over the Chipotle din. As you will discover below, this displays something of a lack of judgment. I swear on a stack of Bibles drenched in holy water that he said everything I have transcribed here. I'm just kicking myself for not managing to transcribe everything he said. It's hard when you're constantly turning one ear towards him and furtively writing in your notebook and looking to see if you should be moving up in line.

So these bitches are sucking him right in the living room. But it gets worse. We're sitting on thousands of dollars, he's stolen all the mushrooms in College Park with my help, and we go back to the parking garage where his trunk is full of these mushrooms, and I have some too but he takes all mine. No, this is later. The girls are out fucking the other guys or something. I don't know where the girls are. Anyway. We're in the garage. The garage is closed, there's no one in the garage, but they left a car in front of the exit so no one can leave. You see what I mean? No, that's the thing, cause the Rivieras were out. They were like gone.

So this guy, sitting on thousands of dollars in his trunk, goes into the office, finds no one there and decides to swipe some plates from the office, puts them on his car, and then he takes it into his head to come up behind the car blocking the exit and tap it out of the way. Which he does. Then he goes into the office and takes some more plates and put them in the trunk along with the cash and the mushrooms. I know. It's insane.

Then he tells me later that he's been selling everything and making several transactions using my fucking name! Yeah! Using my name he's getting rid of everything and making thousands and thousands of dollars. And he's putting the money into a Swedish website, thousands of dollars into a Swedish website, and it's all going to some bank in Switzerland. And I see none of it. Worst fucking weekend of my life, man. If I see him, I'm going to kill him. Hold on, I gotta order.


The following, overheard from someone speaking on a cell phone on the River Road shuttle from College Park Metro Station, is astonishing for the fact that it makes about five attitude changes in the space of six sentences.

I'm never gonna call him again. I'm serious this time! He wouldn't talk to me at all. It was like a shield…I hope he calls me again so I can tell him never to call me again. I will tell him exactly who he is…Because he's gonna call.


All this tasty writing ©2002-11 by Andrew Lindemann Malone. All rights reserved.