[matchup #54 in Tournament of Bookshit]
Last night I had a dream that I was talking to a really attractive girl at a bar in an airport. We were having a great conversation, and I felt really good. Somehow I had already seen the movie version of whatever J.S. Foer’s novel is called, and somehow this came up as a topic of conversation. I laughed to myself and said, “You know what? I liked that movie. I really enjoyed watching it.”
The girl stared at me and said “why are you laughing?”
I said, “You know… because it’s that novel… by that guy.”
“What novel? What guy?” she said.
“You know… Jonathan… Safran… [long pause] … Foer.” Whatever jocularity I had previously inspired in her was gone from her face. It was quiet for some time, then, abruptly, I said, “Look, is this going anywhere?”
“No,” she replied, “and it never was.”
So I got up and went to the nearest newsstand, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation, and bought a New Yorker. I went back to the bar and sat at a different table. I told the waiter to bring me a light beer, any light beer. I stared down at the magazine I had placed on the table and realized I have no idea how tennis is scored.
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WINNER: Daily facebook updates of what you ate / listened to while writing today