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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
How dare you impugn my clicking.
Okay. Okay.
She was a guest of my father's.
I was primed for the first row. I was gonna put my feet on the dugout.
Hey, how you doing?
It's a bunch of squiggly lines.
They are a loathsome, offensive brute.
Five thousand? Why would anybody buy Kramer for $5000?
No, no, no. George, a deal's a deal. I want you to have it.
Maybe I was wrong about her.
Pinheads.
Well, fan... You know, my father-
We took him to the emergency room. The x-rays were all negative.
...you know, I feel like I'm stealing from you.
- Yeah. - Okay. Bye.
Oh, are you interested?
He likes the pop-in. I've told him how I hate the pop-in.
Well, I was leaving anyway. So we're on for tomorrow?
chatty gal
That's Lenny West, my accountant, who's a hell of a guy.
She does abstract stuff. In fact, she's painting Kramer right now.
- Enjoy the game. - Thanks.
- Maybe you should ask him. - I don't have to.
How's it coming?
There's nothing to read. It's yesterday's news.
Not if you have a lot of money.
All my life I've dreamed of sitting front row, behind the dugout.
I don't opt for happiness. I opt for happiness.
My father's the Yankees' accountant. It's the owner's box.
- There's George. - Look at him.
- There's your cap! - Let's go.
- Elaine, just take the cap off. - No! Get off of my hat!
We're not gonna show it, don't want to encourage that kind of behaviour.
Yeah. So Lenny gave me the tickets for tomorrow night.
If you were going out with her, it'd be a different story.