i like your pants.

as we headed out of the restaurant parking lot, jessica stopped the car to let a girl walk by in front of us.  “i like her skirt,” i said.

“so do i,” jessica said.  “you know, most of the time when i look at other people, i’m looking at their clothes.  checking out what they’re wearing.”

“me too,” i said.

“i’ve always wanted someone to notice me looking at them, and come over to me all angry and say, ‘what are you looking at?’  and i’d say, ‘your shirt.  i like your shirt.'”

“and then they’d feel totally shamed?”


“i’ve always wanted that to happen, too.”

sometimes my weirdest thoughts turn out to be pretty normal.