Okay, okay, here's the dealio, yo. Its around 1am. I'm half asleep on my couch covered with about a million Mr. Freezie wrappers and watching the most hardcore kung-fu movie ever - Master of the Flying Guillotine. In fact, this movie is so hardcore, I've told myself "Hootch if you ever find a chick who digs this movie, you are going to instantly go down on her for as long as she wants". Doesn't matter if she's unwashed, hasn't trimmed the hedge in a while, or has oozing warts the size of Nebraska. You are gonna go down and lap up those juices till either she says "stop" or till you fall asleep down there, cuz any girl who has willingly experienced the majesty and artisitc beat-downs of the one-armed boxer vs the blind master of the flying guillotine, deserves whatever the fuck she wants.
So this is what was happening in my house when the phone rang. I pick it up. Its Marianne, ripper extraordinaire. Her driver has left her high and dry and she needs a ride home from work. A cab ride would cost her $55 and 90% of the girls she works with fuckin hate her so they wont give her a lift. So...she calls me and asks for a ride home. Although I know the prospects of sex, at this juncture in our relationship (on the downside), are more or less zero, I convince myself they still exist. I tell her I'll pick her up outside her club at 2am.
At 2:10 I show up and here's what goes down:
Marianne: Finally. What took so long?
Hootch: Good, thanks. How are you? Naw dont mention it. It's no trouble at all. I'm always up at 2:30 in the morning.
Marianne: Dont be mean okay, mister. I've had a rough day.
Marianne: Here, gimme a hug.
Hootch: You okay?
Marianne: No. It was shit in there today.
Hootch: Since when have you worked Wednesdays.
Marianne: Since I've been almost 2 months behind on my rent. Oh look, there's Amanda. (calling out) Amanda...Amanda, do you need a ride home. (to me) Can we give Amanda a ride home?
Hootch: No, I fuckin hate Amanda. She thinks she's deep and mystical and shit. Tell her to fuckin hitchhike.
Marianne (to Amanda): Here, come on in. We'll give you a lift.
Amanda (to me): Hiya stranger. I havn't seen you in a while.
Marianne: I was just telling Hootch that it was shit in there today.
Hootch: What happened to that casting and modeling agency I set you up with?
Amanda: You set Marianne up with a modeling agency!? Why haven't you done something like that for me?
Hootch: Cuz me and you have never slept together.
Marianne: AH EXCUSE ME!! We have never slept together either, mister. Be nice.
Hootch: Okay, okay. So what happened with the agency.
Marianne: I dunnooooo. they always call when I'm busy or working.
Hootch: Thats cool...as long as you wanna keep on ripping for the rest of your life.
Marianne: What?! I go sometimes. Last week I was an extra in a movie starring John Candy.
Hootch: Ahh, John Candy is dead.
Marianne: OH MY GOD!! When? And I just saw him last week. What happened?
Amanda: Isn't it trippy when one day you see someone alive and the next day they're, like, dead or something??
Marianne: I know.
Amanda: Life is, like, a precious gift that we all have to cherish. Its like, today we are alive but tomorrow we may be dead, like John Candy.
Hootch: John Candy died years ago. You were in a movie with somebody else.
Marianne: Wait. I think I have his autograph in my purse.
Amanda: Oh yeah, you're right. Wasn't John Candy the skinny black, jewish guy from the rat pack?
Hootch: No. That was the Candy Man - Sammy Davis Jr. John Candy was fat and white.
Marianne: I found the autograph!!
Hootch: Here, lemme see? (I read it) Man, that says Robin Williams.
Marianne: Oh ya, Robin Williams.