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Rebecca: You should check out the personals. Maybe our future husbands are trying to contact us.
Enid: Here we go. "Windsurfing doctor, Mensan IQ, maverick Sagittarius. Let's hit the clubs, make each other laugh."
Rebecca: You can have that one.
Enid: Jesus, listen to this one. "Do you remember me, airport shuttle, June 7? You, striking blond with yellow dress, pearl necklace, brown shoes. I was the bookish fellow in the green cardigan who helped you find your contact lens. Am I crazy, or did we have a moment?"
Rebecca: God, that's so pathetic. I mean, she probably didn't even notice him.
Enid: I know, and he's, like, psychotically obsessing over every little detail.
Rebecca: We should call him and pretend to be the blond.
Enid: Oh, we totally have to.


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