"I texted you yesterday."
"You text me every day."
"Yeah, but you didn't respond. We were meeting up for the Proposition 8 rally thing."
"I don't go to the Upper West Side. It's where everything goes to die."
"What?"
"Anybody cool that has ever moved to the Upper West Side has always let themselves go, gotten lazy, or had a baby. And it's an inconvenient commute."
"I went there from Brooklyn. And then went back to Brooklyn."
"Dude, okay, I'm a 'bad gay'. I didn't go. I don't see a purpose. Do you think protesting their little Manhattan outpost is going to do one thing in Utah? I'm all about getting the fuckers taxed, though."
"Did you sign the online petition I sent you?"
"Yes. All three of them. Look, what nobody is saying is that the Mormons are setting themselves in alignment with the culture warriors to make Max Headroom the next president."
"What are you ..."
"Romney. Mitt Romney. Crazy-underwear wearing Mitt. So how was it?"
"There were, like, thousands of people. It was fun. You should have gone."
"Heh. I bet there were tons of "Missed Connections" generated."
That is a bet that, if placed I would have lost. There were just two.
