Well, there's gonna come a day when she walks through the door four hours after her curfew and she's got a hickey on her neck the size of a baseball and she declares her undying love for a guy who's got a tattoo on his bicep that reads 'Born Dead' - a guy named Meat, and that's not even his nickname. Man, I should just start saving for your bail now.
It's me, it's obviously me. It's something I'm doing, or not doing. It's my overbite, or my deodorant. Whatever it is, it's okay, sometimes these things are just chemical.
Oh. Wow. Well, that's gonna kinda be a problem for me, Charlie, because my next-door neighbor growing up, her name was Diana, Diana Didario, and we would call her the Italian Sub, and everytime I hear the name Diana I think of this extremely fat girl who shaved my dog because I wouldn't give her my Twinkie.
Are you kidding? She thinks these movies are... I wanna get this right... an exploitation of women, a celebration of violence, and the ultimate proof that at the lowest common denominator, nothing gets our juices flowing like pain and cruelty.