I feel like I should be crammed in the back of something like this (except not a hatchback), while my BK Lounge coworkers, a crazy girl from a fucked up family* and her gay brother/cousin/gardener**, drive me around Westwood looking for some dude on a corner that might sell
us them weed.
Karma: No, she will not fuck you under any circumstance.*** Neither will he, FWIW.****
Me: So I should just go find a hooker. Is that what you’re telling me?
Karma: Pretty much…
***1000% of the women who worked with me. Close doesn’t count.
****75% of the men. (NNTAWWT) It’s kinda nice to be the one turning people down.