“We’re going to cream these guys. And I’m talking smooth cream,” I said to my teammate Tom, in reference to the Phoenixville Under-8 soccer team we were about to play against. 1987.
“I think I’m kind of like Edgar Allen Poe but a little bit happier,” I said to my parents after reading “The Cask of Amontillado” and “The Raven.” 1993.
“You look like a goddamn sperm whale,” I said to Mike, the meanest kid in my grade, who said I looked like a leprechaun. 1994.
“You have a quiet sort of dignity, I think,” I said to Melanie, a girl on my freshman hall, while sitting together on a bench in the dark outside the Math & Science building. 1998.
“Dude, these are buttery. Pure butter. Try not to think of butter while smoking these,” I said to Jason, an upperclassman, referring to Camel’s then-new Turkish Gold cigarettes. 2000.
“If you’re pregnant, I’ll be a younger first-time dad than my dad was,” I said to Julia, my girlfriend, who ended up being not-pregnant. 2002.
“But I sent you a mix CD. I thought that was pretty creative,” I said to the human resources representative for a company that did not end up hiring me. 2002.
“You’ve got a pretty thorax,” I said to a girl, Eva, at a bar, the Green Leafe, after falling down while talking to her while drinking. 2004.