I bet that's it. He hasn't had the sacred ritual rite of biting into soft doughy tortilla or the sharp crunch of corn chip like goodness wrapped around layers of suculent still sizzling beef, garnished with cheese and tomatoes, with a little bit of fresh green tossed in.
Maybe he hates the beef. There's always turkey or chicken. Or even fish.
Why would I want to watch you eat it? I trust your word. Do you really think I belong in a boy band? Do I look like the sort of tool that would pose all pretty for the camera and belt out shitty pop lyrics?
Okay, if you're going to play that card. You look like one of those talk show hosts or angry stand up artists that spend most of the time ranting on and making gestures with their hands. You are Dennis Leary. It is you.
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Maybe he hates the beef. There's always turkey or chicken. Or even fish.
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Why the fuck not, yeah I am.
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For you? Pretzels and peanut butter. Go.
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Anyway, I'll go grab that delicious bet you challenged me to. I know a good place in town for it.
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Let's do it.