“Trust me, she won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus so watch your six.”
“Yeah, well, you lay down with dogs you get up with fleas”
I Swear to god that’s verbatim from a show I was watching. It built up to the crescendo of clichés too, I mean I think the screenwriters were fucking with the producer and seeing if they could write a whole script by pulling old lines from a hat, probably a Stetson knock off.
By the time those lines hit I was already writing smart-assholery in my head.
“I got thrown under the bus right on my six and seven fifteen. She’s leaking transmission oil cap’n I don’t know if she can take any more.”
“yeah, weird, when you lay down with fleas you don’t get dogs. Fleece either. Weird.”
Oh yeah and like a line and a half later someone said “The enemy of my enemy …” I mean the actress almost actually said dot dot dot. I thought
“The enemy of my enemy is … a Douche bag.”
“I’m … not following.”
“Oh, I know the guy. He’s not literally a douche bag or even an asshat, but if you knew him … he’s kind of a douche bag. I wouldn’t call him an enemy, but I just don’t like the guy. The associates of my enemy, some of them are ok, my enemies barista is kind of nice guy, a bit pretentious, but you know, if he lost the bangs and quit quoting Gravitys Rainbow and Star Trek Into the Darkness I could see grabbing a beer with him. My enemies dry cleaner … I don’t even know the guy, but I admire my enemies creases.”
Yeah, I know, and no, I don’t have anything better to do.
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