Tommy: [Franco wants to write Laura a poem] No, no, listen to me, listen to me. I don't care who we're talkin' about-- young chick, old chick, in-between chick, Cindy Crawford on her best damn day-- they all think their ass is fat, okay? We love the ass. We all think the ass is like a festival of fun. It's a place to go, chock-full of stuff we can to do, but to them, the ass is death. Gravity and death and hard goddamn times. Stay away from the ass, okay? Go with the tits. Tits, eyelashes, eyes. All right? That's it. [Lou looks at him] What?Lou: You write a poem about tits, she's gonna rip it up and shove it down your throat. Chicks wanna hear about emotions, they wanna hear about remorse, they wanna hear I'm sorry's up the goddamn ying-yang.Tommy: So you write a poem that says I'm sorry, blah blah blah. I regret bing bang boom. And then you throw in a "Hey, I like your nice beautiful tits." [Lou stares at him] What?Lou: Emotions.Tommy: Tits.Lou: Remorse.Tommy: Melons.Lou: I'm sorry.Tommy: Gazungas.Lou: I love you.Tommy: Double peaches of pleasure.
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