texts: You had one you'd know it.  Patel. They keep coming up.  I don't know. They like to talk to salesmen.  They're lonely, something.  They like to feel superior, I don't know.  Never bought a fucking thing. You're sitting down "The Rio Rancho this, the blah blah blah," "The Mountain View--" "Oh yes.  My brother told me that..." They got a grapevine.  Fuckin' Indians, George. Not my cup of tea.  Speaking of which I want to tell you something:  I never got a cup of tea with them. You see them in the restaurants.  A supercilious race.  What is this look on their face all the time?  I don't know.  I don't know.  Their broads all look like they just got fucked with a dead cat, I don't know.  I don't know.  I don't like it. Christ...
labels: What?