At the Northside Tavern the other night:
Me: When you were in college, did everyone you know have those drunken smoking scars?
Me: You know, from when you’re smoking a cigarette while trashed, and you go to take it out of your mouth but it sticks to your lip so your fingers slide down the cigarette and you get burnt on the insides of your middle and pointer fingers? Everyone I knew in college had those scars.
Z: That’s why we wouldn’t have you at Harvard.