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: So, Lauren, what do you do ? Arthur Garment
: Oh, I'm a masseuse and a process server. Robbie Graham
: Two jobs, wow. Arthur Garment
: Yeah, it's pretty cool. In one job I make people feel great and in the other it's like, you know, I'm ruining their lives. So, it's a nice balance.
: She's very attractive. Shrug
: Attractive? I want to have HER baby.
: I gotta be me! Shrug
: My party is ruined! Robbie Graham
: All these people seem to be having a good time. Cathy
: Them? They're just my friends!
: Where's Lauren? Jennifer Grey
: Oh, she's looking for a parking spot. Robbie Graham
: You took two cars? Jennifer Grey
: I know, we should have taken one car. Robbie Graham
: Somebody could get lost with two cars! Jennifer Grey
: What do you do with the second car? Robbie Graham
: You drive over in the first car. Arthur Garment
: Why don't we just run over my head with both cars?
: How much more money do you need? Robbie Graham
: You can't put a monetary value on money.
: [bursting through the front door
] How could you not call me about the chase? Robbie Graham
: I speed-dialed my mother by mistake. Shrug
: Oh, you are so dead.
: So we're just going to sit around like idiots and watch this car chase? Robbie Graham
: Arthur, the entire city is gonna sit around like idiots watching this car chase. You don't understand. A high-speed chase brings L.A. to a grinding halt. It's like our version of a snow day.
: Since you were so sweet for not honking at me, I want to fix you up with a girl I know. Robbie Graham
: No thanks. Cathy
: She's a model who graduated Stanford. Robbie Graham
: My name's Robbie Graham.
: Shrug's family has one of the largest private collections of money in the world.
: Let me tell you something, Arthur. You're not going to last two months. You'll last much longer than that. You're gonna be like everyone else, talking about how you hate L.A., like it's a prison camp with five area codes, how the people are so dumb, so plastic, so silicone, how nothing's open late, how you have to drive to take a walk, the houses are ugly, the clothes are loud, the bagels are doughy, the pizza sucks, the murder trials last two years, the marriages last two months. Then you throw in earthquakes, aftershocks, mudslides, road rage, race riots, guns, tasers, pepper spray, and just as your head's about to explode, BOOM! One warm afternoon, you play softball, and you think to yourself, "My God, it's January." Next day you wake up, it's two years later, you've sold out every belief you ever held sacred. And you don't care, because you're living way too happily ever after in a beach house, waiting for your Guatemalan gardener like every other brain-dead Southern Californian.
: Some glorious day, perhaps pedestrians will earn their rightful place in LA society, but, until that day the city will view them as nothing more than, walkies. Jennifer Grey
: It's like, you know, a disparaging term for pedestrians. They can say it, but you can't.