How NOT to pick up a chick…

So last night I went out with some friends for drinks. My friends were all either in the bathroom or at the bar getting drinks, leaving me alone like a little bunny in a pack of wolves. Less than 10 seconds passed and I was approached by two overweight wanna-be mobsters from Jersey. They had thick accents, and I decided to fuck with them and use my best east coast accent to respond.

(You have to read the following conversation with a Jersey accent to get the full effect.)



Man: Hey sweetheart, how you doin'?

Me: Alright, how you doin'?

Man: (picking up on the accent) Oh, where you from?

Me: Jersey.

Man: Where at?

Me: Exit 21 (Every time I hear someone talk about Jersey they don't use town names. They use the exit numbers instead. So I took a gamble, assuming there had to be an exit 21. I lucked out.)

Man: Oh yeah, it's nice there. So, I'm Vito.

Me: Ha, that's what I named my dog.

Man: Oh yeah? Lemme guess, it's a pitbull?

Me: No...chihuahua.

Man: (wanting to change the topic to something that didn't insult his manhood) So uh, we're our here on business.

Me: Oh, what type of business are you in?

Man: Waste management.

Me: Who are you, Tony Soprano?

Man: Ha, you're feisty. You could be my Carmella. You got any Italian in you?

Me: Um, No.

Man: You want some?

Me: Did you ACTUALLY just say that? Does that EVER work?

Man: Um....

Me: Alright fellas, good luck with your shit.