I'm not the funniest person in the world, but when I may a joke, people usually laugh. Not this guy. He just stared at me blankly, constructing an impenetrable wall of unexplained hostility that would remain erect for the rest of the night. Whatever, man. For someone who's too cool for school, you could really benefit from a lesson on sarcasm and irony.

This all took place at JRs, which admittedly is not the best place for verbal discourse. There is some talk of going to Cobalt — ew — so my friend asks if there will be a cover. Mr. Wall o' Hostility chimes in with an answer, and I swear, this is what he seriously said:

"Um, a cover? Do you know who I am? I don't pay covers."

Ha! I laughed and laughed and laughed, because, to his credit, that was the funniest thing I had heard all night. Oh, man. Do I know who you are? Of course I fucking know who you are — you're a 22-year-old college graduate who works at a tanning salon in Virginia. Good job, dude. Seriously, way to go.

Later that night at Mercury Grill, my friend fills me in on a little secret: the administrator of tanning salon operations is really into me. That's odd, because he hasn't said a word to me all night. I pass on him, because I'm already talking to someone just as cute, someone who laughs at my jokes, makes a few of his own, smiles warmly. Someone with whom I hang out the next night, with whom I watch a DVD at his apartment. And stay over.

Great weekend. Hope yours was great, too.