Don’t Be A Gentleman And She Won’t Be A Lady

(I hang out with a group of friends who are loud, crazy, and have a tendency to go off on completely random tangents on various subjects, including serial killers, potato chips, the size of Martin Luther King Jr.’s nose, and how our friend’s homecoming date looks exactly like our theater teacher. One girl in our group, Girl #3, is very angry all the time and curses a lot, and we tease her frequently.)

Guy: “If they made Hooters for women, what would they call it?”

Me: “Wieners.”

Guy #2: “I once saw a sign outside a bar that said, ‘Free Beer, Topless Waitresses, and False Advertising’.”

Guy #3: “When I grow up, I’m going to open a restaurant called ‘The Gentleman’s Club’. People will come in and ask, ‘Where are the b***hes?’ and they’ll just come in and see a bunch of guys in top hats and mustaches sipping tea.”

Girl #1: “Monocles. Don’t forget the monocles.”

Me: “Sir, I am indubitably sorry to profess that we do not serve b***hes on the menu.”

Girl #2: “Good sir, pip pip.”

Me: “You know… this gentleman’s party needs a top hat.” *steals Girl #3’s hat* “I say!”

Girl #3: “GIVE IT BACK OR I SWEAR I’LL STRANGLE YOU AND MURDER YOUR WHOLE FAMILY.”

Girl #4: “People used to think I was normal before I started hanging out with you guys.”