July 2nd, 2008 - "Baseball, French Kissing, & Russel (The Indian.. From India)"
- Greg: You guys going to do the baseball game tomorrow?
- Gil: Not sure. It would be fun.
- Greg: I haven't been to a game this year; looking forward to it.
- Gil: Neither have I. Amy's got the gym tomorrow, so I gotta check if she'd be up for getting all dolled up, then turning around and going back downtown.
- Greg: Gotcha. And by "gotcha", I mean I'm going to throw you over the railing in the outfield if I see you at the god-damned game.
- Gil: Sweet. And by "sweet", I mean I'm gonna wear baseball cleats and use them to stomp on your tiny testicles 437 times.
- Greg: That seems excessive.
- Gil: 436 times?
- Greg: That seems more sensible. And by "sensible", I mean I'm going to pluck out both of your eyeballs with a bottle opener.
- Gil: Oh yeah. That's possible. And by "possible", I mean I'm going shit on your face then french kiss you.
- Greg: So, you win? And by "win", I mean lose, because you are a minority.
- Gil: Damn this dark skin. I despise the terrorist I see in the mirror every morning.
- Greg: So does Russel.
- Gil: Russel doesn't use mirrors. He uses the reflective surface of the puddles of blood gathered from all the Americans he's killed over the years. Too much?
- Greg: For Russel it's still not enough.
