So I'm hitting on my waitress at the bar tonight, because I noticed she was wearing a shirt that said, "Pretty Girls Make Graves". So she comes back to the table, after I've formed a situational relationship with her, and I say, "So, like the Smiths, or like the talentless, generic ripoff?" And she blinks a few times, then says, "Well, I just got back from the Alkalaline Trio show, and I got the shirt there. But no one knows it's a Smith's song." Then she gives me the thumbs up. I take a piss, I come back, she's sitting at the table. I talk to her a bit, my friends tell me that just because a girl pretended to know what I was talking about didn't mean I should like, I tell them if they pretended to know what I was talking about, I'd like them, she overcharges me twenty dollars. The moral of the story is that all girls are prostitutes.