[Franco wants to write Laura a poem] No, no, listen to me, listen to me. I don't care who we're talkin' about-- young chick, old chick, in-between chick, Cindy Crawford on her best damn day-- they all think their ass is fat, okay? We love the ass. We all think the ass is like a festival of fun. It's a place to go, chock-full of stuff we can to do, but to them, the ass is death. Gravity and death and hard goddamn times. Stay away from the ass, okay? Go with the tits. Tits, eyelashes, eyes. All right? That's it. [Lou looks at him] What?
You write a poem about tits, she's gonna rip it up and shove it down your throat. Chicks wanna hear about emotions, they wanna hear about remorse, they wanna hear I'm sorry's up the goddamn ying-yang.
So you write a poem that says I'm sorry, blah blah blah. I regret bing bang boom. And then you throw in a "Hey, I like your nice beautiful tits." [Lou stares at him] What?
Around here, we got the probie, he controls all the homo retard crap, okay? Garrity covers all the stupid retard bullshit. Franco is our pussy man. You control all the drinkin' and the fire hero worship crap. Poetry is my territory, you're musclin' in on my turf.
It was subtext. Subtext, my ass. What are you Walt goddamn Whitman all of a sudden? The Tommy Gavin I know would never write that poem. The Tommy Gavin I know would never write that poem to seduce his own piece of ass let alone his buddy's. You wanna know something? This, the fall you just took, the dancing, the singing, the cleaning, the la-la-la, what the hell are you on?
I know, but that's like the fun of it. They send over a bunch and you choose one. It's like American Idol, you know, except it's nurses instead of singers, and you don't get to call up and vote to see who wins, and Paula Abdul's not there acting like a freak show. Actually it's not like American Idol at all.
Yeah. I hate all pulp. I hate orange juice pulp. I hate that stupid British band named Pulp. Pulp Fiction. Quentin Tarantino, what's with that goddamn head by the way. Is that not the biggest head in the history of heads? He turns sideways it's like you're lookin' at a map of the New Jersey coastline. And Kill Bill what a piece of shit. And then there's a Kill Bill 2 what's that about? Jesus Christ.
I don't know if I can believe you or not, Tom. See the Tommy Gavin I used to know was a lyin', cheatin', schemin', brawlin', skirt-chasin' son of a bitch. I looked up to him. You always knew where he stood, but this new Tommy, this, uh, fancy coffee-drinkin', pastry-eatin', kind, sweet, sincere one, uh-uh, Bro, I don't trust him as far as I can throw him.
No, Lance Armstrong. The guy who won the Tour de France like 26 times in a row. (Mike is silent) Whoa, holy shit, bro you don't even know what the Tour de France is, do you?
I don't care. It's a stupid name. Just because you and mom were a Buddy Holley fan doesn't mean I gotta be stuck with that stupid name for the rest of my life.
