come on, bro. spare yourself the humiliation, the degradation.
don't get me wrong. we can salivate over all the christy malones of our lives. wishing we could devour them like melt-in-your-mouth filet mignon. but we're strictly hamburger guys. ground chuck, sixty eight percent lean, is about the best we can hope for.
that vibe is from your wrist, pal. you've been over-tenderizing your meat, again.
she smiles at everyone, ted. she's like a newborn with gas.
the only chick more untouchable than christy malone is miss april. "hi, my name's ginger. i love tofu burgers, rainy nights, and riding bareback. my biggest turn-off is cell phones during sex." here's a tip: set it on vibrate, honey, and don't be stingy with the lube. don't knock it till you tried it.
one thing for sure, christy malone ain't lookin that good naked.
you have a better chance of being hit by a mack truck with a refrigerated cargo bed full of sirloin tip.
that's crazy talk.
don't do it, ted. don't do it.
i'm warning you. this is an official warning. danger, will robinson, danger.
one word, my friend. one word.
i wonder if this is what it feels like to be born?
think about it. long tunnel, bright lights, it's full of vaginal symbolism.
seriously, it's like we're being reborn. we really could reinvent ourselves here, just like you said. nobody knows about your massive humiliation.
nobody knows you barfed during junior high school graduation.
and nobody knows you're a virgin! aw, who are we kidding.
everybody knows you're a virgin!
what are the odds of there being another ted nelson on our flight?
who the hell was your father?
a bouncer? are you serious?
this is the life, baby. we get ourselves some tail and we're talking spring break!
for a guy about to try his first dom perignon, you are extremely uptight.
don't you know anything about limo etiquette? everything in here is included for our pleasure.
and like every hamburger guy knows, when you get your one big chance at the good life, you abuse every second of it until they figure out you don't belong there and kick your sorry ass out.
this is how the other half lives, bro. enjoy it while you can.
something tells me we're not in xenia anymore, toto.
i'm charles. the handsome, devoted best friend. we're so close, we feel each other's pain.
see what you do to me, baby.
he never spits, ma'am. ever. he can't even get a good hocker going. i've tried to teach him. it comes from the diaphragm.
everything? the publishing division, the real estate holdings, the retail outlets, the theme parks?
i can't believe that's your mother. we're talking babe-a-licious chub fest, right here in the 501's.
he likes them with the unbridled enthusiasm of a seventeen-year-old virgin who's been making mental beef jerky since he saw the bevy of tender young skirt steaks at his new hacienda.
you said parties but you meant orgies, right? stick with me. i know their codes.
naked girls, wild sex, video games. no wonder it's called "heaven."
this is like my every wet dream come true. i don't even care that you're here, too, bro.
i wonder how many of them will be at the orgy tonight?
oh. well. maybe not yet.
oh, god. look. look.
i really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree.
oh baby, yes, yes, yes. fuck me like you mean it.
i'd kiss your mother with this mouth. i mean, if she wasn't, you know.
yeah, whatever.
check this out. hurry!
hurry.
check it out!
beauty? no. we're talking goddess.
dead?
then there must be a whole room, made completely of chocolate.
don't be such a pansy. all of this is yours.
i'd feel like staying up all night! forever! or at least till i got the lay of the land, so to speak.
where they get all the really good porno channels on cable.
cha-ching. jackpot.
take a whiff of heaven.
i'd call you a sick, twisted fuck. but this is different. she wasn't your mother mother--
a couple of boys fighting over a pair of red silk panties is nothing compared to what he's seen.
let me get this straight.
these are real, live women?
god, i love being dead.
ain't life amazing? a week ago, you couldn't get to second base! now you own second base!
we reinvented ourselves.
you've obviously never had your dogs nestled in thousand dollar italian loafers.
jealousy is so unattractive.
wanna see my hickey from miss december?
call me charlie. i'm a photographer for "heaven" magazine. and a very cunning linguist.
sharp as a mashed potato sandwich.
oh wow, look. they've even got baby gherkins!
you're like a centerfold waiting to happen. and let me assure you, i have some serious pull with the publisher.
send us a picture, sugar. we'll get back to you.
you're late, bro!
you'll never believe who's in there.
with a refrigerated cargo bed full of sirloin tip.
here's the deal, merk. forget the "rules and regulations" malarkey and we'll give you seven minutes in heaven with the taylor triplets.
i hear you, bro. we're angus men in a ground round town.
why don't you just hitch a ride on the horse you rode in on?
don't forget your broom!
chicks are like buses. if you miss one, don't sweat it. there's another coming 'round the corner.
take your pick. they're identical.
no, leave one. somebody's grandmother might want one.
i love those springy head puppies!
brilliant! molly, give me all you've got. for merk.
holy stinkers, what were you thinking?
next time, make sure you put a barf bag in the centerfold.
page three.
he kicked major ass and you know it.
you were born naked, wet, and hungry. now you're hip, handsome, and rich. you are the coxswain on the ship of life.
i taught him that.
you got everything you ever wanted.
i'm a sucker for a happy ending. hold me.