Great. There were onions in my street meat. Listen to me. "Onions in my street meat." Last year, I was taking meetings on Wall Street. This year, I'm eating meat from the street by a wall.
[searching her purse] Let's see. Phone, chapstick. A pill! Could be birth control, could be ecstasy. Waiting for a day off to find out. Why wait? [takes pill] If I start touching your hair in an hour, don't let me have sex with anyone.
I made a call to a connection I know and got us a real cupcake job. And it's in Manhattan. It's the first birthday party for the son of a socialite. 60 cupcakes with buttercream frosting. Up top!
Why? Is your business partner on a show on Nickelodeon? Look, I don't do buttercream. Buttercream is a bitch. If it doesn't stay refrigerated, it falls apart as fast as a two-celebrity marriage.
[notices an odd-looking man typing on an old typewriter and approaches him] Wow! Bummer, dude. You have a time machine and somehow it got programmed to this crap diner?
Oh, steampunk! Right, I remember that trend. It happened for, like, ten seconds back in 2000-and-are-you-kidding-me? Dude, seriously, you're sitting in a public place tap-tap-tapping on an oldie typewriter? What are you? In The League of Extraordinarily Pretentious Gentlemen?
Yup. That's how people are here in the present where we live. But don't get me wrong, I'd like to go back in time, too. Maybe stop 9/11 or that creep who had sex on my shoe, but I can't.
[after Sophie finds an invitation to the Metropolitan Museum's annual gala in Caroline's hate mail] This is my favorite social event in all of New York. I've gone every year since I was 18. It's a fashion ball at the Museum of Art—
[receiving a catalog at the Channing estate auction] Actually, I need two: One for me, and one for my friend... [Caroline walks in wearing a brunette wig] Zooey Deschanel. What? You look like her.
[after hearing a group of hipster girls using the word "vagina"] Well, it's over. I can't say it anymore. The vagina's gone mainstream. What's next? A clothing line at Target?
Max, have you seen my phone? I wanna take a picture of this bad tip and put it on Instagram. Getting loose change used to be so depressing, but now I can share it with strangers.
Okay, stop. On every reality show, people say lame things that we can never say. No fist bumping, no high fives. You can't tell me to "bring it," "shut it down," or "put our cupcake business on the map." You can't tell me to "go, girl" or "bring my A game," and we don't "got this." Cool?
