Mark Wahlberg on the set of Pain and Gain in Miami. (April 17, 2012)
“And then what did Mr. Miyagi tell you?”
he’s either gassy or has a little captain in him is my guess
I was thinking the same thing.
“Can I call you right back? I’m in the middle of sumo wrestling here.”
Clandestine flatulence is not his strong suit.
Got a little captain in you?
“Why do the Monty Python people keep asking if I want to do their ‘Department of Silly Walks’ sketch?”
“Say hi to the mother of all farts for me.”
He looks like a sausage on steroids with a problem in it’s gym pants.
“I don’t know, everyone says I got a board up there, but I can’t feel anything.”
“I’m doing my Fruit-of-the-Loom leg raise right now… yeah… about to do my Hanes asana, and I’ll have to put you on hold during my Downward Calvin-dog. Cool?”
“Mrs. Johnson? I’m surprised you called! Did you get all those messages- I told them to tell you I said ‘Hi’ for me.”…..”ahhh, nothing, just Marky stuff”
He’s imagining himself holding down Bin Laden
“Say hi to your mother for me….and tell her I’m wearing her yoga shorts”
This spot is mine. This spot is mine. This spot is mine.
“… and then… I sweah to gawd… that giant lizard bastahd starts shootin’ gawd damn faya outta his eyes and stahts stompin’ the crap outta Tokyo. it was beautiful!”
He just dodged Tiger Woods’ club.
I don’t care if he looks like he’s farting or about the stupid things he’s said, I’d still do him.
He asked me to say “Hi” to my mother for him… I told him to fuckin’ call her himself.
He looks like a link in a family tree that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger related to Pauly D.
“Niagara falls. Slowly I turned… step by step…”
Never quite understood the correlation between the bigger some guys get the smaller and tighter (and gayer) they wear their clothes.
In my mind I’m head-stomping a terrorist.
dayum! i dont care what stupid pose he’s doing. flexiblitiy + muscularity = good time in the sack.
“I am Godzilla! You are Japan!”
“Shit!!! I really wish people would pick up after their dogs!”
“So explain this to me…why would I take my right foot out when I just put my right foot IN again?
He couldn’t find anyone to pull his finger so he had to phone it in.
Did ya hear dat? It’s for your mudda.
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