Join Date: Mar 2003
Location: Somewhere south of here.
From pulp fiction.
1. Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage? No. 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!
2. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing. Ain't no fuckin' ballpark neither. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies, ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.