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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
I'm Carrie, you're Carrie. I write, you write.
six hours later, I was home.
You'd never know it wasn't real unless you looked at the lining.
What do you think?
Waking up in Keith's sun-filled bedroom, I felt like 3.4 million myself.
I miss Lorenzo Lamas' neighborhood.
Did you say, "Hef"?
Trey wasn't the only one with heart problems.
Tit soup
You know, doctor, I have an itch. Could you help me out with it?
- Don't you work? - I don't have anything till eleven.
Thank you, Dr MacDougal.
This is LA. You have no idea what pressure I'm under.
Give me my bag.
In the south American's living room, my Brazilian made me kiss him.
This is bad of me. Is this bad of me? I'm drunk.
- You might need these. - Thank you.
In LA, house-sitters are somebodies and writers are prostitutes.
Tell her that when she's ready to deal, she can call me herself.
Oh, my God!
- No one goes to the movie. - We're out of here.
He's a New Yorker at heart, but he's lost all his neuroses and 30 pounds.
she had worshipped Hugh Hefner since she was old enough