1998, HBO DEVELOPMENT MEETING:
“Hey, Chad.”
“Hey, Brad.”
“We got ourselves a problem, buddy.”
“Hit me.”
“Don’t tempt me, pal, don’t tempt me! No, seriously, all our stuff is the bomb –“
“The muthafuckin’ bomb.”
“– as you say, Chad, mutha and fuckin’ and bomb. But is any of it for chicks?”
A pause.
“Shit.” Read the rest of this entry »
“Dad! Dad!”
“Yes, son?”
“Can we go on to the Fibreglass Cycle Helmet Theme Park? Oh, pleeeeease!”
“Well, I don’t know, son. Dad’s only just got back from his trip to the desert with his English pal Mac. We went swinging with some crazy Russian chick and her “friends”. Mac was swinging from my side to hers, I was swinging all over the place. It was great!”
“Swinging, dad?”
“Yes, son, and I’m all tired out. It isn’t always a good idea to do so much swinging at my age. Not that I wasn’t up to it, mind you. That crazy Russian chick got exactly what she came here for, let me tell you.”
“What was that, dad?”
“Er, well, wait until you’re a bit older – let’s just say I went off like a rocket and there was just a huge explosion and – erm – kind of, sand squirrels, everywhere. I’m not totally sure why, but it might be because Ewoks would have stretched things beyond breaking point.”
“D’you mean like Richard Gere did with the hamste-”
“Let’s just go to the park, son, okay?”
“Yaaaaaaay!” Read the rest of this entry »
I know I get a bit worked up at times, but I don't mean anything by it. C'mere, givuzanug.
