Tag

We'll just drink all day. / We go to yours!

Tag Jones. Go on. That's it. That's my whole name.

So I guess I shouldn't put 'good at noticing stuff' on my résumé.

Really? No, handshake.

Women? You mean, like old women? - Kind of old, like 30.

How you doing?

Really? - Yeah, for you.

I would love to! - What?

You're right. They are scary. She just ate a treat out of my hand!

Is there a puppy here? You don't like puppies? Okay, you are new.

Twelve-fifty. Damn, I forgot you were here.

Colorado. What good are you?

Are you serious? / No, I've just always wanted to do that.

You wrote that you have a cute tushy? / Yes. I have a weird sense of humor. And I'm kind of strangely proud of my butt.

Are you kidding me? With a cute butt like this, I'd find work.

And who's this chippy? A little young for you, but whatever. / That's my sister. / Really? Very cute braces.

I still don't get it.

So they slid out of your bottom drawer... crawled across the floor, then jumped onto my desk? / How did you know they were in my bottom drawer?

Son of a bitch! Look, I know what you're going through. I'm totally freaked out about turning 25.

Twenty-four, actually. Oh, God.

A '95 LeSabre? Yes. A green LeSabre? Yes! I'm sorry, I meant a blue LeSabre. Yes, green-blue.

No, this is my red sweater.

So whose is it? I don't know, some Italian guy.

Come on, read your own label. See you later. He is so weird.