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Do you ever spit on anybody from here?
No. You?
No. Do you ever think about it?
Yeah.
Me too
Do you ever spit on anybody from here?
No. You?
No. Do you ever think about it?
Yeah.
Me too
Men wanna see women nak*d.
Whatever it is you won't show us that's what we're obsessed with seeing.
If women always wore hats in public, all the time you'd see men buying Playhead magazine you know, Skulls of the Big 10.
This would be what we're interested in.
What about cultures, like in National Geographic where everybody is nak*d? What are men in these cultures trying to look at when the women walk by? How could you have a str/p club there? Woman takes off the necklace and the nose ring, that's it, show's over.
The men are going, "Boy, did you see that little indentation in her lip? I told you, man, this place is hot!"
KRAMER (moving back to the other side of the booth): You're wasting your life.
GEORGE: I am not! What you call wasting, I call living! I'm living my life!
KRAMER: O.K., like what? No, tell me! Do you have a job?
GEORGE: No.
KRAMER: You got money?
GEORGE: No.
KRAMER: Do you have a woman?
GEORGE: No.
KRAMER: Do you have any prospects?
GEORGE: No.
KRAMER: You got anything on the horizon?
GEORGE: Uh...no.
KRAMER: Do you have any action at all?
GEORGE: No.
KRAMER: Do you have any conceivable reason for even getting up in the morning?
GEORGE: I like to get the Daily News!
1)Boy it's been a long day.
2)Not as long as yesterday, yesterday was 24 hours.
1)I meant with traveling and all.
2)I'ts no easier staying in one place. Take it from someone who knows.
3)Are you being wise? I think you're being wise.
2)I knew it would happen. One day I'd just wake up wise.
3)One day I woke up stupid.
2)You did?
3)It was terrible.
2)what'd you do?
3)I went back to sleep.
2)That was wise.
در پای لوله توپ
سربازی ایستاده
با چهره گشاده
آماده و مصمم
بر جای خویش محکم
در دست کاسه سوپ
ناگه ز سنگر خصم خمپارهای رها شد
سرباز میهنی را پاها ز تن جدا شد
هر لنگهاش ز سوئی پران سوی هوا شد
لیکن به قدرت حق
سرباز ایستاده
چون پیش محکم و شق
با چهره گشاده
در پای لوله توپ
در دست کاسه سوپ
+ نمیدونم واسه چی از این شعر خوشم میاد اینقدر
(از "مصدر سرکار ستوان" نوشته یاروسلاو هاشک و ترجمه حسن قائمیان)
the great thing about guys is that we can become friends based on almost nothing. Just two guys will just become friends just because they're two guys. That's almost all we need to have in common. 'Cause sports - sports and women - is really all we talk about. If there was no sports and no women the only thing guys would ever say is "So, what's in the refrigerator?"
"Nothing in the voice of the cicada intimates how soon it will die/ along this road goes no one/ this autumn eve"
از آواز زنجره برنمیآید که چه زود میمیرد/ بر این جاده هیچ عابری نمیگذرد/ در این شباهنگامِ پاییزی
جینی گفت: «کیا رو میگین؟»
«نمیدونم، همه رو میگم.»
Jill: How could you possibly enjoy a film like that?
Steve: Because it's got nak*d women in it! Look, I like nak*d women! I'm a bloke! I'm supposed to like them; we're born like that! We like nak*d women as soon as we're pulled out of one! Halfway down the birth canal we're already enjoying the view! Look, it is the four pillars of the male heterosexual psyche. We like nak*d women, stockings, l%sbians, and Sean Connery best as James Bond. Because that is what being a boy is, and if you don't like it, darling, join a film collective. Look, I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman at the end of that table there, but that does not stop me from wanting to see several thousand more nak*d bottoms before I die, because that's what being a bloke is! When man invented fire, he didn't say, "Hey, let's cook!" He said, "Great! Now we can see nak*d bottoms in the dark!" As soon as Caxton invented the printing press, we were using it to make pictures of - hey! - nak*d bottoms! We've turned the internet into an enormous international database of... nak*d bottoms! So, you see, the story of male achievement through the ages, feeble though it may have been, has been the story of our struggle to get a better look at your bottoms.
Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fu%*ing sad, and the truth is I've felt so fu%*ing hurt for so fu%*ing long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fu%* everybody. Amen.
Rebecca: This is so bad it's almost good.
Enid: This is so bad it's gone past good and back to bad again.
Phoebe puts a skull on the table...
Chandler: Pheebs? Skull?
Phoebe: Yeah, it's my mom's.
Rachel: (freaking out) Oh my god!
Phoebe: No, no, no. It's not my mom. It belonged to my mom. She used to put it out every Christmas to remind us that even though it's Christmas, people still die.
- I have great insight. I'd use it on myself only I don't have any problems.
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No.
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