You're dying for ammunition, aren't you? Without you right in my grill you know nothing about me? That's hard for you, you have nothing...NOTHING...to use.

Maybe I'm talking to Frank, maybe I'm not, whether I am or not is none of your business or concern. I'm 47 years old, I'll do what I please.

Um...wow. You're really paranoid. Where are all these daughters you're talking about? Why are you still attempting to sink your incisors into me? I thought you had plenty of new blood? Why are you on my ass?

You feel froggy?