Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- Fuck that trophy. - All right.
I should be handling his money.
Everything okay?
Whoa, whose Bentley? I know this ain't a rental.
No shit. Charles got a job?
and once again ball... ball on these motherfuckers,
Yeah, right. No, even crazier, though.
- I'm not doing that. - Rick.
Hello, Spence?
- You calling about Jarret? - Yes, I am.
That quick?
Welcome to the Miami Dolphins, son.
Don't let Vernon learn the hard way, all right?
a chance to put on that helmet
Seriously, baby, do us both a favor
I would have taken a call from the fucking trainer.
If it drives, flies, floats or fucks,
womanizing assholes.
Tragic, man. I'm sorry to hear that.
How the fuck is that even possible?
Fuck Twitter, man.
I love you.
You ever worked in car sales before?
Okay. What's up, Ricky?
What's up with your boy Ricky? What is it, cocaine?
Dr. Oz says people deal with grief in their own individual way.
Maybe I just like to hear you say it.
Let's have dinner tonight at Prime 112.
I'm actually looking to get me a job.
Yeah, but you were a sure thing.
Think you can handle that kind of pressure, golden boy?
Saved my ass that day.
- Any leads? - Oh, man.
Hell, yeah, you do. Love you, too, girl.
Look, I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry I was late.
You know training camp starts in three weeks.
and you fuck groupie whores, you end up dead.
Oh, fuck that.
All right, we can work something out.