Why Girls Are Retarded, Part 4,223-B

I'm with a group of dudes. We enter a known upscale meatmarket with unreasonably overpriced food and drinks and a really hot waitstaff (Joey's if you must know. There's three in the Seattle area, and while the food kinda sucks and five drinks later you've almost blown through your commission, I'm not kidding about the waitstaff). We take a seat, order a round of drinks, and two decent but not knock-your-socks-off-looking girls take it upon themselves to squeeze in our booth.

The two of them at first completely ignore me, and then one decides to scoot my way with an "are you from here?" line, complete with a VERY HARD question mark at the end, as if I have three heads with a velvet penis protruding from each possibly indicating that I am in fact not from this area. Or earth, even.

I give her my standard I-moved-here-from-Boston babble, leaving out some of the normal details since this girl has her hand firmly planted on the thigh of one of my friends while talking to me, and I figure at any moment she'll return to giving him most of the attention. We end up having a pleasant, if somewhat banal, conversation (her hand at no point during this moving off of my friend's leg) and then she turns away, and I assume said conversation over. I finish off my first drink, consider my options for a second, and then she turns back toward me with:

"Are girls hot in Boston?"

How the fuck do you answer this? Ignore the fact that I'm a single guy, and a mildly attractive girl not from Boston just asked me this. I could be Estelle Getty and Bea Arthur is asking me this...HOW?

"Um, well...yeah, there's a lot of 'hot' girls in Boston."

"How about in Seattle?" she fired back.

"Well, yeah, I've seen some attractive girls here too." I couldn't help myself so I further responded "quite frankly, everywhere I've been, I've seen some hot girls and some ugly ones, and I'm sorry I haven't been keeping track of solid data, complete with an entire powerpoint presentation for you".

"But I mean, like...(pauses)...generally speaking...Boston or Seattle?"

I stared for a minute, grabbed a napkin and a pen from the bar, and drew a line with two points at the end. "This here is Seattle, this over here is Boston. This line is I-90, which connects the two, and is about a four/five day drive. Try it sometime".

She giggled (not my desired response. I was hoping for her to perhaps cry and leave, finish her drink and pass out...perhaps burst into flames, I didn't really care at this point) and said something to the effect of "don't be shy. I won't be offended if you say Boston girls are cuter".

I slammed down my second drink which had only just arrived seconds before, swallowed hard, took a deep breath and said simply "Neither. Gary, Indiana. I love crackwhores." I then left my seat, texted a buddy, bummed a cig off a stranger, struck up a conversation with said stranger, struck up several conversations with more strangers who came up to us...eventually made it back inside to see my friends were ready to leave with annoying dumb girl walking by me, asking (and by this point she's absolutely shitfaced, which is a fucking scientific marvel in of itself because she was perfectly fine only a half hour or so earlier):

"Would I be *hic* hot in Gary, Indiana?"

No.