I think you need a hug.
Paula will give you a hug.
Yeah, that broad will hug anything.
(Sorry, Mr. Bim got the computer away from me for a second)
Yes, I do need a hug.
I could imaging Paula giving me a hug, whispering to me in her pharmaceutical slur, the faint scent of Tennessee whiskey wafting into my nostrils. She would then try and take advantage of me slipping her sloppy ashtray tasting tongue into my mouth. I then fear being the pig that I am what would happen next.