And the door flies open and there’s like a pack of sorority girls inside. I’m like, Guys, who’s this? Chad goes, They’re our dates. I’m like, You know what? I thought that sick bastard who runs Yelp was crazy. But you guys take the cake. (Fair enough, if you look closely you’ll notice that clearly Sergey prefers quantity over quality; but hey, he’s Russian, so forgive the guy. Besides I’m pretty sure the skanky ones were there for Steve Chen. And yes, Miss Greenshirt, that means you. The Chenmeister likes a little extra moo-goo-gai on his plate.)
Sergey goes, Steve, This is how I roll every night, I’m not even kidding you man. I’ve got more money than the top 10 Hollywood movie stars put together, and I’m better looking than half of them. You ever see Brad Pitt up close, in bright light? Not pretty. My boy Chad here is no slouch with the ladies either. Fuck it, man, even Chen is getting laid. He’s out in the orgy room at the far end of the bus right now, delivering what he calls “The Zen of Chen” to the entire Stanford cheerleading squad. Or is it those Tri-Delts? Dude, I can’t even remember, honestly. Chad goes, Um, Steve, you want any of these girls, just help yourself, okay? I mean it. I love you, Steve Jobs. You’re my hero. When I was a kid, growing up, I used to like worship you. I can’t believe I’m like standing here, like actually talking to Steve Jobs! Wow.