“Nice bird, asshole!”

“How did you get my number anyway?”“Some asshole named Nash.”“Asshole?”“Yeah, asshole. Don’t tell me you don’t think he’s an asshole!”I laugh uncomfortably. “Um, no I don’t think he’s an asshole. He’s always been nice to me.”asshole. He’s always been nice to me.”“Of course he has. You’re gorgeous. What man wouldn’t be nice to you?”“Plenty.”“Assholes, all of them,” he teases.“They’re assholes, too?”“Yep.”“Is everyone an asshole today?”“Yep,” he repeats. “Word of the day toilet paper.”I laugh, genuinely this time. “Is that right?”

“Sometimes being a nice person is all about knowing when to be an asshole.”

“I’m sure you think you’re a very nice guy, but from where I’m sitting at the moment all I see is an asshole. Yes, you’re a very good-looking asshole, with a great body and handsome face and nice tan and all that, but do you know what the best thing about assholes is? When they keep quiet and go away.”

“Well, I hope you were nice to him ’cause I was kind of an asshole.”

“I failed to understand what was so enviable about having a position that a pack of phonies sucked up to. Dishwashing suited me because nice people were nice to me and assholes were assholes to me, yet no one ever sucked up to me.”