Tom say

Friday, 4:15PM. My buddy Tom and I are sitting in a Starbucks in downtown Seoul. I press him for something to say, his first-ever blog post—

He appears to be at a loss for words. Silence descends. He may be attempting to fuck my mind. He tells me that's what he's doing. "Did you come?" he asks.

Tom can't seem to conjure up anything more original than "Why do they have sweet potato pizza? With corn? That stuff is nasty."

Tom looks at me. He sees I'm not happy with his output. He tries again:

"How can one Venti Starbucks make you have to take three full-on pisses?" He gestures at his empty cup, measuring it on the sides. "Because when I get a Venti"—he points at a certain level on the cup—"that's the first piss"—he points again, farther up, near the top of the cup—"that's the second piss. So where's the third piss coming from?"

Tom thinks a bit. "What if we renamed people like Gomer Pyle as 'Gomer Pile of Shit'?"

Tom's obviously having an off day. "You're putting me on the spot," he complains.

"But you've been on Leno," I riposte. "You've been to the mountaintop! This should be nothing for you."

"It is nothing," Tom says, obviously not into this conversation.


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