UC Employees sit on a throne of moronic questions

So. Earlier today I'm in the UC buying birthday cards for my family (stock up now, 3 of them are on 2/20), and as always the store is crowded, noisy, and in a general state of chaos. I'm about to pick up something of the "Shoebox" variety for Mom, when I'm accosted by a pesky customer service whore. Make that man-whore. He sidles up beside me and asks if he can help me find anything (all the while unabashedly trying to look down my shirt), to which I reply that I've got everything under control. I turn around thinking it's over, but no, oh no. That's when this stunning conversation took place:

Customer Service Man-Whore: So, you go to school here?
Me: Erm, yeah. (subtext: no kidding dumbshit)
He: What's your major?
Me: Theatre.
He: What, like plays and stuff?
Me: (and how did you get into college?) Yes.
He: So are you and actress?
Me: I'm on the performance track, yes.
He: (shamelessly patronizing) Wow! So you want to like be in Hollywood and do movies, and wear cool clothes. Make out with hot guys and get payed for it.
Me: No.
He: (uncomprehending) What?
Me: I'd like to be on the stage.
He: Oh, yeah. So you want to do plays?
Me: I'm in a play right now.
He: Wow! Is it on Broadway or something?
Me: (Oh. My. God.) No.
He: What is it about? Is it a love story? I bet it's a love story.
Me: No. It is most definitely NOT a romance.
He: What is it, then?
Me: You should watch it and see.
He: I can see it? Here? Any actors I know?
Me: What do you mean?
He: Like Cameron Diaz or Brad Pitt.
Me: (for the love of all that is good and holy, someone either shoot this man, or give me a gun so that I can do it) No.
He: Why not?
Me: It's just students from the school.
He: Oh, yeah. Heh! Duh, man.
Me: (my sentiments exactly) Well, I've got my cards, I'd better get going.
He: Let me walk you to check out.
Me: (do you have to?) Alright.
He: Man, I always wanted to be an actor when I was little. Watch this (goes into an obscenely terrible De Niro inpression doing a scene from "Taxi Driver." The fact that he knows "Taxi Driver" astound me.). What do you think? Whatsamatta you! Are you talkin' to me?!

And this is when I start laughing. As in hysterically. As in I'm laughing at you, not with you. I bite my lip to keep from doubling over. I hand him my money, and as he hand me my change, he SLAMS it on the counter and goes back into pathetic ganster Italian.

He: I'm so ANGRY!
Me: ????
He: Was that good acting?
Me: Sure. Well, that's going to do it for me today. See you later.
He: (fidgeting with his name tag) Hey, could I get your number? Maybe I could come to one of your plays with you.
Me: (diversionary tactic #3) Erm, yeah, um, I'm a lesbian.
He: (blank stare) Oh, sorry. That's why you didn't seem that into me.
Me: (actually that was a lie. I'm not a lesbian, I've just got a larger mental acquity than a bar of soap) Yeah, sorry. Thanks, though.

Moral of the story: Next time someone asks your major, tell them "english."