Do you know Charlotte Korman, big, red-headed, buxom woman, her husband is the Mercedes-Benz dealer in Wantagh? Mel doesn’t like her. He doesn’t want me to see her.

He doesn’t want her to be my friend, doesn’t want her to come to our house; he can’t stand Charlotte Korman. He’s been having an affair with her for eight months!

I had to stop seeing her three times a week so he could see her four times a week. These are the times we live in, Barney. You know what my proof is? He told me.

Two o’clock in the morning, he leans over, taps me on the shoulder and says, “I’ve had an affair with Charlotte Korman.” Who asked him?



I’ve seen the woman I shall marry, and she is without a doubt the most magnificent creature in all of New York – flawless except for one minor imperfection – she is totally unaware of my existence.

There, through yonder door, ’tis the company break room and – Sophia. I’ve often daydreamed what our life together would be like.

One day we’d accidentally meet in the break room and instantaneously click. There’d be no kiss on the first date; no, we’d both be too excited about our five-hour dialogue on Plato’s allegory of the cave as it relates to the movie The Matrix.

The first kiss would come on our second date – after a six-hour heart-to-heart on Hitler and existentialism, I’d take her in my arms and with total confidence I’d kiss her.