Yeah, yeah, you got me there.

I guess I've got to train my stomach more. [He fishes in his pocket for his wallet and dumps what money he has in there on the table; it's just enough to cover the price of two lumberjack slams, figures. Steady, Pete, your stomach is feeling the pain.] Do I get to know the name of the guy who kicked my ass at eating food, or are you just gonna be nicknamed Stranger Danger from now on?