Monique Junot: I figured if we had nothing to say to each other he would get bored; go away. But instead he uses it as an excuse to put his testicles all over me. Lane Myer: Excuse me? Monique Junot: You know, like octopus? Testicles? Lane Myer: Ohhhh. Tentacles. N-T. Tentacles; big Difference.
Truly a sight to behold. A man beaten. The once great champ, now, a study in moppishness. No longer the victory hungry stallion we’ve raced so many times before, but a pathetic, washed up, aged ex-champion.