Memorable Dialogue Du Fete:

JM: “Oh I never eat foie gras, it tastes of sin and ill-repute. Plus it looks like goose poo, molded into a crescent moon.”

SS: “Boys in black ties, under purple neon, give me better posture. Do you think I have good posture? I always loved the ballet. ”

RB: “Champagne brings out the devil in me, it’s like blowing a conch shell for the pitchfork-wielding minions within, [SWIPES HAND, FLINGS GLASS, SHARDS FLY INTO STOCKINGS]. See?”

MR: “When do we start bending spoons?

TH: “I swear to god there were Aliens. Aliens in this way where, you couldn’t see them, but god they were there. They were! I’ll never forget it, went home and ate this massive meatloaf sandwich after, it was all so hard to handle, I’m a stress eater you see.”

KA: “He’s making me breathless, just blushing like a fiend, who is he? Is he young enough to be my son or is that just the blue light? Where is my husband.”

CE: “Bless us, hurry before it’s too late and we float into champagne oblivion. ”

HC: “She fell over! Someone help her! [COLLAPSING UNDER THE WEIGHT OF SMEARED EYELINER AND TORN BALLGOWN]”

Theme From Valley Of The Dolls

CC.2:

RB: “Your shoes look like you are a fancy boy, but your fingernails are dirty! ”

JH: “Aah. Come on, come on it’s the hair we’re talking about.”

RB: “Look!”

JH: “It’s time, I know. I’m in the middle of finals and this is me avoiding a twenty page paper documenting the fictionalized breakfast-eating habits of post-modern printmakers. ”

RB: “REED COLLEGE.”

JH: “AND, I ran out of Oolong. Oolong, kombucha and toilet paper run. And haircut.”

RB: “Well Sir, I will tell you once more that I am in love with your girlfriend, and that you are clearly something special, with your crazed silhouette, and that a deep pulse of thrill runs through my wrists when I think about cutting both sides of a perfect equation. Cutting both of your domes, I consider this to be a holy privilege.”

JH: “Make me blush, you do it every time.”

RB: “Then I blush. Blushing, together. ”

[INTERLUDE IN WHICH I TURN FROM THE MIRROR AND PRETEND TO EXAMINE MY SCISSORS UNTIL MY CHEEKS AREN'T RED]

RB: “Can you tell me whats in your mind, right now? What do you want your head-shadow to look like?”

JH: “Uhm. The thing is, I guess, every time I get a hair cut, I always secretly want to tell the person with the scissors that I desperately want to look ‘Terrifying’, but I am always afraid to ask. I’m afraid to say I want to look terrifying. Hmmm?”

RB: “I’m delighted when someone feels so much in regard to their head-shape. Please feel, and opine, please do this always! I think I want your hair to look like the lovechild of Capote and Lynch, a fiery, benevolent nightmare on top of your rosy dome. Yes?”

JH: “Weirdo, yes, you weirdo.”

RB: “Let’s go.”

JH: “Well this will be nice, I will have a full-fledged cut for my performance final, one in which I, along with a band of other boys, will film a dissection of a paper-mache antelope carcass, a very bloody dissection. It’s strange and I think it’ll be really beautiful. Ah, yeah, I do.”

RB: “I want to see this, actually to be there. Will you send me a picture, please Dearest? You and your girlfriend. You and your girlfriend.”

The Windmills of Your Mind

“I can't do the same thing every night, the same gestures... it's like putting on dirty panties every day.”

-Brigitte Bardot

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