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when the bank comes and takes this place away from us?
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You don't think I read our bills?
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Our statements?
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Where are you going?
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Out.
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And for the record, I like leather, not latex.
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Good God, woman, you've got to knock this shit off.
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I beg your pardon.
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The crying.
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You got to get it under control.
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You're making me nuts.
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I'm very confused.