. . . I was
smoking holding a cigar. Ah, we’ll always have Paris the Oval Office.
OK, hold it right there.
Seriously, Bill–can I call you Bill?–if you don’t stop inviting yourself over, I’m going to have to get a restraining order.
And don’t you recall the last time you got all friendly-like with the help? How’d that work out for you? You think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship? You think that the problems of three little people won’t amount to a hill of beans?
I don’t care what you think. Take your TV and your chips and your cigar somewhere else. Besides, that little blue dress isn’t even my size, and that beret is just silly.