We're really worried about this affair with your boss.
I don't know why you're both so worried... So, I bop him for a couple of years, get his job when he gets his hands caught in the vault, do a black mink ad, retire in utter disgrace, then write a best seller and be a fabulous host on my own talk show...
Jules, y'know, honey... this isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough, just like you're making up all of this. We're all going through this. It's our time at the edge.
You are just pissed off and bitter because you have not had sex in... how long? What is it... a year... maybe two? Refresh my memory please, Kevin. Haven't you heard of the sexual revolution?
Who won, huh? Nobody. Used to be sex was the only free thing, No longer. Alimony... palimony... it's all financial. Love is an illusion.
It's the only illusion that counts, my friend.
Anyone who's been in love.
So does your attitude.
Oh well, I wouldn't say my father's trying to bribe me, but he did offer me a Chrysler Lebaron convertible if I get engaged to Howie.
Have you fucked him yet?
Listen... get the car, fuck him, and if you don't like him, break the engagement... And then you can still fuck him.