Sushi

If a Japanese restaurant offered discounts on Pearl Harbor Day, would it be considered completely inappropriate or the least they could do, given the relatively high cost of good sushi?

If it went over well, perhaps other industries could become involved.  I can see it now: 

Pearl Harbor Day Sale!  50% off all 

Sony, Mitsubishi and Toshiba electronics! 

This Seat Reserved

Last night, I sat in a reserved seat at a film festival event.  After the film, the sign stuck to my backside as I was getting up.  This got me to thinking- there should be a line of clothing for women that is the opposite of the Victoria's Secret Pink line or the Juicy Couture line.  The Pink and Juicy lines are for lack of a better word, a bit slutty.  Sweatpants or shorts with the words "Sexy" or "Juicy" emblazoned on the seat  are not the message that some women want to send.  I propose a line of more conservative garments for women and post-pubescent girls.  Instead of advertising what delights lie underneath said shorts, how about the word "Reserved"?  It could indicate a general conservative nature or that someone is not available.  To send an even clearer message regarding one's character and preferences, how about running shorts with the 🚫 (no) symbol?  For those who want to send a more religious message, maybe a cross with the words "Shame on You" The line could be called the V. Mary Chastity line.*

*belts not included 

Word Play

What do you call prostitutes who are forced to walk through the Alps in the middle of winter? 

Snot Baby

Thursday evening, uptown 4 train.  I get onto the crowded train.  Standing in front of a seated man, I gaze absent-mindedly into space.  The man glances at me, starts and makes a movement to get up saying, "would you like to sit?"  I'm perplexed and flattered.  "Uh..., no thanks."  I give a quizzical look and look to the left and right of me where other women are also standing.  An awkward moment ensues. I pull a tissue out of my pocket and attempt to empty a sinus cavity of the colorful mixture of mucus that has been my constant companion for these past three weeks.  The man's face reddens.  Flustered, he stammers as he looks to the woman to my right- someone who is obviously much older- and offers her his seat.  She politely refuses.  He offers the seat to the woman to my left, she also refuses.  We ride along in silence.  At the next stop, I get off- "what a weirdo," I think.  "Was he just hitting on me?"  I'm walking along Union Square when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a storefront window.  I stop.  I notice that my collection of mostly dirty tissues in my coat front pockets have formed a suspicious looking lump in the navel area.  I look pregnant.  I'm carrying a snot baby.    

*actual coat filled with actual snotty tissues

Post-420 snacks, obviously

Jokes

Q: What does the uninspired yogi say instead of "Ohm?"

A: "Ummmm"

Q: What do they call eggplant dip in the South?

A: Bubba Ghanoush