Max.
Do you have any gum? My breath tastes like someone else's breath.
You're asking me if I have any gum? That's like asking New Jersey if it has any sluts.
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.
Let's see.
Phone, chapstick.
A pill! Could be birth control, could be ecstasy.
Waiting for a day off to find out.
Why wait? If I start touching your hair in an hour, don't let me have sex with anyone.
Max! Max, what's this? It's addressed to Max's homemade cupcakes.
Really? I thought that was just a thing I wrote the new pizza place info on.
It's a $200 check from that office party we did.
Max's homemade cupcakes in type! No way, I've never been typed out before! I've been cash, I've sweaty 20s pushed into my palm, but I've never been typed! We's all grown up! We's legit! Listen up, diner! I just hit the big time.
No more serving up slop to you lowlifes.
So everybody can suck it! My waitress days are over.
Can I get some more coffee? Sure.
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh Earl, what are you doing? Employees are not allowed to drink diner liquor.
Now, hold up, Han.
It's April 16th.
Do you know what day tomorrow is? Oh, of course.
Happy Martin Luther King day.
Enjoy a drink on me.
It's not Martin Luther King day.
Black people are allowed to be excited about other days too, you know.
Is there a new Tyler Perry movie coming out? No, Kim Jong Il.
It's tax day.
And I always treat myself to a Brandy when I do my taxes because I need to be drunk when I see that refund amount.
Chicken breast, side of hot sauce.
Breast? Hot sauce? Come on, it's right there.
Max, now that I have big love for Sophie, I no longer say inappropriate sexual things to other women.
I save all my hot sauce for her breasts.
Love has made you a real old lady.
Here you go, Brandy man.
Enjoy.
Max, you got a stamp? I wanna drop this off in the mail on my way home.
I have one in my purse.
I'll just get it.
Max, he wants to file this year.
He doesn't have time for the search party to go into your purse and return.
Hey, it's a purse.
It's supposed to be messy.
No, it's supposed to be a purse, not a retirement home for a pair of panties stuck to old lifesavers.
I'm kinda off my meal now.
I have a stamp right here, Earl.
There, see? Order versus chaos.
Also known as OCD versus "Oh, here's a CD I forgot I had.
" Would you prefer a flower, flag, or a love stamp? Ladies, I don't care which, I just wanna get these taxes in the mail before the deadline.
- Earl, you do your own taxes? - I surely do.
Proud to say I haven't missed a year since 1950 when I had my first job as Frank Sinatra's ball boy.
Ball boy? Was he a good tennis player? No, darling, he didn't play tennis.
The job was washing his balls.
And that was good work for those times.
Do you mind if I look over your 1040 to see if I can increase your return? Do you, Wharton, do you.
Well, at first glance, I see you short-changed yourself on some deductions.
There's 500 right there.
Why don't you sign this now, and I'll save you what I can and then drop it in the mail tomorrow? Max, look at this.
Blonde ambition here just saved me $500.
Really? That's pretty cool.
Oh! There's another 100.
- No way, that's awesome.
- Ding, ding, ding.
It's like I won the slots without being surrounded by those pissed off ladies with emphysema.
How could you not know there was a cupcake check in your purse? It just got mixed in.
And anyway, who still sends important stuff through the mail these days? What are we, pioneers? No, we're businesswomen, and we need to keep track of every penny.
Hey, should we frame it and hang it on the wall? That way when we're two billionaire bitches who hate each other's guts, we can look at the check and remember.
Max, I'll never hate your guts.
You don't know.
Business pressure, you caught me sleeping with your husband, anger about your bad facelift.
Oh, honey, I will never have a bad facelift.
I've been collecting names of good doctors since I was 11, and I was terrified by my piano teacher whose nose was suddenly here.
That's pretty cool of you to do Earl's taxes for him.
I'm happy to.
After all, finance is my field of expertise.
Yeah, pretty cool.
You know, all that stuff.
Helpful hints and whatnot.
Cripes! What more do I have to do, Rouge my boobs and stand in a storefront window in Amsterdam? Are you gonna help me with my taxes or not? Max, I don't know if it's a good idea.
I've seen your purse.
I can only imagine your taxes.
Can you let go of the purse? It's just a messy bag.
It's not like I lost your child in the outback.
It's symptomatic.
Here, look at my purse.
You know what, never mind.
It's too late for a purse smackdown.
But for the record, even if you win now, my purse will kick your purse's ass.
Later, after it spent two weeks learning your purse's schedule.
Organized, clean, perfect.
Look.
Just look at it.
Look at it, Max.
It won't bite.
Who are you, my mother's third boyfriend? And truthfully, before I saw that check, I wasn't even going to file.
But now that our business is getting real, maybe I should start getting real about my finances.
I mean, when we are two billionaire bitches, I don't want the government to swoop in and Wesley snipe us for back taxes.
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