Not really a joke in this case. More of a plea.


I don't know why I am the way I am, but I get tired of fighting with myself.


That would really hurt, I think.


I've taken substantial liberties in paraphrasing this conversation.


She was actually pretty hot, but not because of her feet. Her feet were a little creepy.


I did three different versions of this comic. This was the first version, and I guess I like it the best.


That's fine, though. Her loss.


Okay, I've managed to fool one. Only 3 billion or so left to go.


This was a conversation I observed one night. I'll have to try this.


He was joking, but at least one guy in the place seemed quite intrigued.


I won't mention how terrible I looked after I gave her hat back.


Yeah, right. Like I'd really do something like that.


She was also smoldering hot, but that was just a bonus.


I would have helped her anyway. The hotness was just a bonus.


The weird thing is, she thought I was making a joke.


Another option would be to spontaneously burst into flames so you wouldn't have to answer at all.


Women are strange. That's why I get along with them so well.


Of course I didn't really say this. The whole thing just reminded me of an old Ren and Stimpy show where they had this conversation.


This guy was a total tool. He took offense that I wasn't going to let him harass me with his sales pitch.


I wish I'd really said this. What I really said was, "The real question is whether you girls can handle me." Not as funny, I don't think.