[While wandering around 1996, I run into myself standing in the high school parking lot.]

Me: My God, you are chubby.

15-y.o. Me: You’re surprised?

Me: I guess I just forgot. It sure is something…

15-y.o. Me: Yeah, because now you look like a regular Brian Austin Green.

Me: …

15-y.o. Me: So does that mean I’m not going to have sex soon?

Me: …

15-y.o. Me: But I’ve been hanging out with this girl like every day after school. Right now, we’re just friends, but I make her laugh a lot, and I think it’s definitely going to happen with her.

Me: …

15-y.o. Me: So you must be writing for a TV show by now. Which one do you write for now? Is it Mr. Show?

Me: Oh, uh…I…uh…wrote for Letterman.

15-y.o. Me: You’re a writer for Letterman? That’s awesome!

Me: Yeah, it’s pretty cool. [Pause] I mean I don’t like write for him, but I’m saying I have.

15-y.o. Me: What’s he like? It is cool hanging out with him?

Me: It’s not like that exactly, like meeting him and stuff…I fax jokes in and then he sometimes uses them…But I don’t go in there each day… Whatever, the industry isn’t what you think it is and there’s this small group of Ivy-League educated guys who write every good show… You wouldn’t understand.

15 y.o. Me: Oh.

Me: So what are you doing today after school?

15-y.o. Me: I have a tryout for the basketball team. My shot’s really good now, so I think I might actually make the team.

Me: …Yeah…

15-y.o. Me: I guess maybe I should just skip it and go watch TV.

Me: Might as well watch all the Seinfeld you can. Only a couple seasons left.

15-y.o. Me: Wow, my future sure looks bright!

Me: You’ll almost sleep with a model one time.

15-y.o. Me: Almost?

Me: You get diarrhea.