Even the finest curve-hugging pleather doesn't look as good as barbecued chicken tenders taste.
ANGELINA - I love you.
PAULY D - Uh huh.
ANGELINA - I would marry you.
PAULY D - Ok.
ANGELINA - I think about you most moments of most days.
PAULY D - Alright.
ANGELINA - Sometimes I imagine a miniature version of myself camping out in your hair gel, hoping to be in the next squirt that makes it to your crown.
PAULY D - Roger that.
ANGELINA - In my mind's eye, I often see the two of us sleeping in the same tanning-bed coffin for all eternity, or until your Mom wakes us up to taste her gravy.
PAULY D - Word.
ANGELINA - Once, I had Jay420 roll me up into a stability ball near your workout station at Gold's. You didn't know it, but you pushed me out of the way so you could do dead lifts.
PAULY D - Fine.
ANGELINA - And, um, how about you? Do you ever walk past a novelty t-shirt shop and picture me not showing up for work there?
PAULY D - No.
ANGELINA - Have you reached out for my all-natural private parts in the dark, feeling the pain of my absence like an amputee feels a phantom limb?
PAULY D - Never.
ANGELINA - Would you replace my trash bags with luggage made of a rich Corinthian leather that most resembles my ravaged skin in texture and tone?
PAULY D - Negative.
ANGELINA - Would you autotune the sounds of my whiskey-soaked voice on one of your -
PAULY D - **sniffing** Sitch's barbecued chicken tenders. Gotta go.
ANGELINA - I think we're making great progress here. I really do.
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