Wendy Byrde: Hi, this is Wendy. Leave me a message.Martin 'Marty' Byrde: They put up a cross. Jesus fuck! They put up a cross.
Buddy Dieker: There was a French writer, long time ago - I can't remember his name. Well, I can't remember anybody's name. Anyway, he was old, for those days, and very sick, lungs and ticker all going, and he was stuck in bed. Now, this guy's a loner all his life. But he tells the lady taking care of him that he wants to see his friends, say goodbye. So she sends out word, and all his friends come to his little hovel, gather around his deathbed, telling stories. And you know what happens?Wendy Byrde: What happens?Buddy Dieker: He doesn't die.Wendy Byrde: Buddy Dieker: And then after a couple days, the friends, well, they leave. They have lives. And then he dies. Sad, but sweet. Because, when you think you're gonna die yesterday, today is *sweet*. So, hang in, Wendy. Lose your shit tomorrow. Today's no day to fall apart.
Marriage Counselor: Marty, what would it look like to achieve your objectives without interfering with Wendy's project.Martin 'Marty' Byrde: I think that that would look like death.Marriage Counselor: But what would it really look like.Martin 'Marty' Byrde: Really, death.Marriage Counselor: Okay. Marty, my mother had a saying. Just as a pie is only as good as it's crust, a marriage is only as good as it's trust.
How 'bout if I pop those tits and squeeze out the silicone.