Friggin' stop that! It freaks me the hell out. You don't know me, I don't know you, I don't want to know you, don't talk to me for no good reason. It may just be because of my impersonal northerner sensibilities, but I find this whole "spontaneous politeness" thing really off-putting. I don't need your empty, insincere, autonomic inquiry into my well-being, and you clearly don't actually care how I'm doing. Do us all a favor and don't waste the oxygen necessary to speak; we're running out of that stuff in here. Since you brain surgeons started filling the hallway trash cans with rotten eggs to mask the marijuana smell, I can barely breathy in this place.
I'm not your bro,
Nicko
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