It's as if it turns every part of your body into the tip of a penis.
-Whoa. -I'll lend it to you. It's a great book on piercing.
That gun to pierce your ears,
they don't use that to pierce your nipples, do they?
Forget that gun. That guns goes against the entire idea behind piercing.
All my piercing, 18 places on my body, every one of 'em done with a needle.
Five in each ear, one through the nipple of my left breast, two in my right nostril, one in my left eyebrow, one in my belly, one in my lip, one in my clit,
and I wear a stud in my tongue.
Excuse me. I was just curious, but, um... why would you wear a stud in your tongue?
Sex thing. Helps fellatio.
Vincenzo. Step in my office.
This is Panda from Mexico. Very good stuff.
Now, that's Bava. Different, but equally good.
And that is Choco from the Harz Mountains of Germany.
Now, the first two are the same. 300 a gram. Those are friend prices.
But this one is a little more expensive. This is 500 a gram.
But, when you shoot it, you will know where that extra money went.
There's nothing wrong with these two. This is real, real, real good shit.
But this one is a fuckin' madman.
Remember, I just got back from Amsterdam.
Am I a nigger? Are we in Inglewood? No. You're in my home.
Now, white people who know the difference... between good shit and bad shit, this is the house they come to.
Now, my shit, I'll take the Pepsi Challenge with that Amsterdam shit... any old day of the fuckin' week.
That's a bold statement.
This ain't Amsterdam, Vince. This is a seller's market.
Coke is fuckin' dead as... dead. Heroin, it's comin' back in a big fuckin' way.
-All right. Gimme three grams of madman. -Okay.
Now, if it's as good as you say it is, I'll come back and buy another thousand.
I just hope that I still have some left for ya,
but I'm givin' you some out of my own private stash.
That is what a nice guy I am.
-I'm outta balloons. Is a baggie all right? -Yeah, that's cool.
All right. I'll just get one for ya.
-Honey, will you get me some baggies and, uh, twistix from the kitchen? -Okay.
Hey, uh, what do you think about Trudi?
She ain't got a boyfriend. You wanna hang out and get high?
Which one's Trudi? The one with all the shit in her face?
No, that's Jody. That's my wife.
-I'm sorry, man. -Thank you.
No, I can't. I gotta be someplace.
-All right, no problemo. -I'll take a rain cheque.
You can go.
-Thank you, Jody. -Still got your Malibu?
-Oh, man, you know what some fucker did the other day? -What?
-Fuckin' keyed it. -Oh, man, that's fucked up.
Tell me about it. I had it in storage for three years.
It was out five days, and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it.
They should be fuckin' killed, man. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.
I wish I could've caught him doin' it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole.
-It'd been worth him doin' it just so I could've caught him. -What a fucker!
What's more chicken-shit than fuckin' with a man's automobile?
Don't fuck with another man's vehicle.
-You don't do it. -It's just against the rules.
-Thank you. -Thank you.
Mind if I shoot up here?
-Hey, mi casa es su casa. -Muchas gracias.