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PARIS: [rolling eyes] Uh-huh.
TILA: You look good, girl.
TILA: How ARE you?
PARIS: Good. Um, interesting dress… thing, or whatever.
TILA: Thank you! I’m trying to do a throwback to like, old, uh, Hollywood glamour, or whatever.
PARIS: Or like, disco?
PARIS: And like, mummies. And nurses.
TILA: Hmph. [scans Paris's body] Are you even wearing a dress?
PARIS: My parts are covered and I look hot, so yeah.
TILA: Ah. I feel bad for you. I don’t like, roll that way anymore. I changed my image.
PARIS: To what? A singer for ABBA?
TILA: No, like cleaned up and classy. I had my lawyers start taking all of the pictures of me off of the Internet.
PARIS: [laughs uncontrollably] I don’t think that’s going to work, betch.
TILA: [getting angry] What, bitch?
PARIS: Nothing. Never mind. I’m sure people will totally take all of those pictures of your dirty pussy off of the Web. Are we done here?
TILA: We’re done here, you hater!
PARIS: Good, I need to go get some disinfectant for my face.
TILA: Oh that’s really nice. Really nice. While you’re at it, you should disinfect your crotch.
PARIS: Whatever you say, cooze breath.
TILA: Eat a dick!
PARIS: I will!
[They stomp off in a huff.]
TILA: [to self] Hunh. Who won that one?