With Dimmu Borgir rawkin' out my right ear, applesauce in my tummy and five more hours at work to go, I ask you a simple question; "do they speak English in What?"
While many of us know and cherish Samuel L. Jackson's inquiry regarding the character and appearance of Marsellus Wallace, I think a deeper inquiry must be made; one of ourselves.
What do WE look like? Do WE look like a b***h? I hereby posit that I do not look like a b***h, and do not want the Brett that is the universe to ******** me.
I'll save that for Mrs. Wallace.
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A rabbit freezing on a star.
Workplace ramblings.
Theophrastus
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Is there anything Pulp Fiction CAN'T do?