I walked past an elderly Korean lady tonight after work. She’s a neighbor I see all the time, but we’ve never had a conversation.
I was carrying a 30-pack of cold ones, and completely prepared to give her a nod and go on my way.
“Ah, you must ah rike the beer,” she said with a smile.
“Yep,” I replied.
But I seriously came close to saying, “Thanks for the update, Tokyo Rose.”
Before you judge, let me explain myself.
I’ve always been a little suspicious of people that smile at me, and don’t speak English.
Just a few years ago, the same lady’s husband walked up to me at the Melrose Place pool party.
He smiled, bowed, muttered some gibberish, and then stole my beer Koozie.
I thought about taking his ass down. But I have a policy against hitting below the belt. And his was around his nipples.
I stayed up last night to catch Conan O’Brien’s debut on The Tonight Show. The monologue was so brutal, it made JC Corcoran seem funny.
And he’s about as funny as a case of gout.
Love doesn’t come in a minute. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all.