Perrockero

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: How's your skin, son? I like my aides to be presentable. Charlie Simms: Well, I - I've had a few zits. Um, but my roommate, he lent me his Clinique because he's from... Lt. Col. Frank Slade: "The History of My Skin", by Charles Simms. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Then, I'm going to lie down on my big beautiful bed, and blow my brains out. Charlie Simms: Did I hear you right, colonel? You said you're going to kill yourself? Lt. Col. Frank Slade: No. I said I'm going to blow my brains out. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Oh, where do I go from here, Charlie? Charlie Simms: If you're tangled up, just tango on. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You askin' me to dance, Charlie? Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Ooh, but I still smell her. [inhales deeply through nose] Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: [Randy brings Frank a glass of whiskey] Thank you Randy. You still with Snowqueen Sugar? Randy: Snowflake. How come you always get that wrong? Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Because it's not important for me to get it right. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Are you blind? Are you blind? Charlie Simms: Of course not. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Then why do you keep grabbing my goddamn arm? I take your arm. Charlie Simms: I'm sorry. Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Don't be sorry. How would you know? You've been watching MTV all your life.