Don't you like how I'm a college student and I can just tell you these things?

Walking east on Houston St., 1am, young couple ahead of me, the guy enthusing about DirectTV.
The girl is mocking, "Imagine the possibilities! Pamela Anderson with her boobs hanging out! The characters, the drama, 24-7!"
She turns and looks at me "Hey, what's this guy think?"
I smile and ignore her.
She's about five feet tall, in a white t-shirt, drinking Heineken from a bottle. "What's this guy have to say about it?" she asks more insistently.
"Not to mention the possibilities for narrative form," I say.
"Ooh, look at this guy, thinks he's a writer. Let me guess. You're working on some short stories right now and it's not really going all that well, and you're thinking about a novel, but then there's all the problems of publishers and how do I get an agent, so you don't really know what to do and you're thinking about maybe giving the whole thing up."
I nod. Not much to argue with there. She looks very pleased with herself.
"Don't you like how I'm a college student and I can just tell you these things?"