Dirt

[watching Mia french-kiss Sharlee Cates on live TV during an awards show]

Lucy Spiller:
It's tired, but the tongues were a nice twist.

Claire Leland:
Lucy Spiller. I should be mad at you for all those awful things you wrote about me in your magazine this year.

Lucy Spiller:
Then stop doing all those awful things.

Lucy Spiller:
[to her boss Brent Barrow] Uh she's like 23... she's way too old for you.

Brent Barrow:
No, 23 is good.

Tina Harrod:
Lucy, if I was actually vying for your job, do you think I would just walk into the offices of Dirt Now and have a meeting with your publisher?

Lucy Spiller:
I don't know, Tina. Would you?

Tina Harrod:
Wow. You really just don't trust anybody, do you?

Lucy Spiller:
Nope. I didn't get where I am today by trusting people.

Tina Harrod:
But you have to trust somebody, sweetie. This is no way to live. You don't deserve to be alone.

Lucy Spiller:
Who says I'm alone?

Tina Harrod:
OK! I don't know. Great! Who is he. Or, you know, who is she?

Lucy Spiller:
Oh, God. What happened between you and I was a one-time thing.

Tina Harrod:
Yeah, okay, it was actually four. But who's counting?

Brent Barrow:
I heard you showed a video of sharks eating each other in the womb. Rumor has it that you had a twin who suffered the same fait.

Lucy Spiller:
Well I like my space.

[first lines]

Reporter:
[to Prince] Prince Tyreese with twenty six points and a triple double. How does it feel?

Don Konkey:
[to Holt] Maybe you could give me a little piece of gossip... or a big one. And that way I can help you get your career out of the toilet.

Lucy Spiller:
I would kill myself if I had your job. I like to get dirty.

Holt McLaren:
I'm an actor, that's all I've ever wanted to do.

Lucy Spiller:
No! You wanted to be famous. There's a big difference.

Lucy Spiller:
[to Holt] Do you know what we love here at "Dirt Now"? Home made porn.

Lucy Spiller:
You know why I'm not afraid?

Harvey Stone:
Hmm...

Lucy Spiller:
Because you and all of your Hollywood pals read my magazines and sickly love them and you know every word is true. And as much as you all hate to admit it, you need me. [she sips from her glass]

Harvey Stone:
You're amazing.

Harvey Stone:
I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Lucy Spiller:
What's that, Harvey?

Harvey Stone:
No woman should leave their drink unattended in these troubled times. Most of all you.

Harvey Stone:
[to Lucy] Do you have any idea how many of these people would like to see you laying on the ground begging for somebody to call nine, one, one.

Lucy Spiller:
Do you trust me?

Holt McLaren:
I don't even like you.

Lucy Spiller:
I don't like you either.

Holt McLaren:
Then we're safe.

Willa McPherson:
I broke a promise.

Brent Barrow:
Which one? There are only three, sweetheart. The check is in the mail. This will only hurt a little.

Willa McPherson:
That's two. What's the third?

Brent Barrow:
I won't come in your mouth.

Willa McPherson:
But I want you to.

Julia Mallory:
[mistaking Toby for Holt] Hola, titty-boy!

Toby:
Uh, hang on. I've got Holt McLaren for you.

Willa McPherson:
Look, we coupled. That doesn't make us a couple. You can relax. I'm not expecting to meet your mother.

Brent Barrow:
Well, that's good. She's dead.

Anna:
Are you crazy?

Don Konkey:
Yeah, but that's not important.

Willa McPherson:
[into the phone] Is that what you think? That you can just sh*t all over me and this magazine? This is 'Dirt Now'. We've outsold every other weekly two weeks running, and we're about to make it a third. So, you listen to me you insignificant piece of sh*t! You're giving me this story because if you don't, 'Dirt Now' will have a camera up your client's ass every second of every day. If she so much as blinks at another contestant, we're going to run that she's screwing him! Every pit stain, every ounce of cellulite, every photograph that makes her look semi-retarded, will be splashed, full-color, in the pages of our magazine, and that's off the top of my head. Wait until I give it some real thought. You've got 20 minutes to get her contestant-nailing ass over here before I make her a pin-up girl for every S.T.D. known to man, and then some!

Lucy Spiller:
You son-of-a-b*tch! You gave up a source! You gave up Prince Tyreese!

Brent Barrow:
I had to! Tweedy McDaniel and his thugs... they came over to my house. They were gonna cut my dick off and feed it to me. You'd do the exact same thing if they threatened to cut your dick off.

Lucy Spiller:
[scoffs] Oh, you're a barrel of laughs.

Brent Barrow:
They were going to kill me, Lucy! Next, they would have come over to your house and tried to kill you to.

Lucy Spiller:
I don't care! Rule number one in the tabloid world: you never, NEVER give up a source! Thanks to you Prince Tyreese is finished. He may never play basketball again if he survives.

Brent Barrow:
Oh, what about you? You blackmail a rising basketball star, threaten to ruin him unless he becomes your snitch in tracking a murdered rap star. You print the story after I told you not to, knowing that the killers would come after us, and yet again I'M the one that comes off as the a**hole here?

Lucy Spiller:
I'm not the one who gave up a source!

Brent Barrow:
Lucy, when I first hired you for this job four years ago, you moved into Carl's old office after he moved out. In his office, he hung on his wall a large, full-lenght mirror that was imported from Greece, which was worth maybe $10,000. The first thing you did when you moved into his office was that you took that mirror down.

Lucy Spiller:
So?

Brent Barrow:
So I think that it's about time that you found that mirror and put it back up so you can have a good look at yourself and wonder where did all your humanity go?