Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Bye.
I'm sorry.
Hard feelings? About what?
-But Esteban-- -Write him a note.
Bitch-ass bitch.
I have nowhere to go.
Trying to get this damn tan off.
If that fat-ass costs us our security deposit....
I gotta say, it kind of sucks that you've been avoiding me...
He pulled a gun on me. Just messing around, but still.
Fuck George Hamilton.
Sneakers are the footwear of my corporate oppressor, Isabelle.
-Mr. and Mrs. Bogart. -Yes.
This crap and General Lee.
Of course, then I threw her off the roof and she went splat.
No, soon I'll be a new mommy.
Oh, there you are.
This just isn't how I pictured this going down.
Say there's no hard feelings.
Uncle Yitzhak's lost fortune which fell miraculously into your hands.
Okay. Next lesson.
Maybe if you wore sneakers to work instead of changing into them there....
Wait. Wait. God.
What the fuck was that?
She gets me. We're in sync.
...and I hoped that maybe by now you'd understand...
This is the part where I thought you'd laugh...
So is this what you want?
What really hurts though...
-Right. -Right.
Get out of my store. I've had enough of you driving customers away...
You're making a big mistake, Wilson. Big.
Though I might hyphenate.
That means, "Pay up, motherfucker, or I crack your head with an ice pick."
Happens again, we're gonna have a serious problem.
He doesn't live anywhere. His friends put him up wherever he goes.