AY! WHADDYOO SAY ABOUDDA MAMA!? HUH? Ah work-a so hard-a foo yoo kids. Gimme a break, hah?
Yeeeeeeah dude. Heh.. Heh heh heh. Dude. Remember in Vegas when we got all drunk and rode scooters?? Heh.. And that dude was all like... lookin' at us and shit and you almost kicked his ass? Heheh. Yeah. Yeah dude. I'll spin at your rally, after I get finished standing around in the parking lot for three hours talking about my kit.
Listen here, little lady... A man wiser than myself once said that the thrill of the hunt is sweeter than killin' the prey. Somethin' like that. I don't know if that really applies to this here situation, but what I'm sayin' is... this feller can't predict which way the prarie winds'll blow or when, but when they blow yer way, you'll smell 'em. And they'll smell good.
Ya. De song you want is "In the Basement, Part I" by Etta James and Sugarpie DeSanto. Apologies for the short answer, but I don't think I've ever heard an Islandic accent.
Blah! The taste of bloood.. I mean, beer, is a contribution to procreaaaaaaation. OOOOOooooOOOOooooh!!! The girls... they drink the sweet, delicious bloooooooood.. I mean, beer, and they get drunk and then let the boys feed on.. I mean, sleeeeeeeeeep with them. OOOOOOOoooOOOOoooooh!!! Blah!