Fug, je t’aime


[Photo: BauerGriffinOnline.com]

PETER SARSGAARD: Maggie. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.

MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL: Yes, Dad? I mean, Peter?

PETER: I don’t look THAT old with this thing.

MAGGIE: Certainly not. But, just let me know if you want me to proofread your Gettysburg Address.

PETER: Oh, how interesting — I didn’t think cavepeople could read anything that wasn’t scrawled on the wall in picture form. Congratulations.

MAGGIE: Touche, Tom Hanks. Give Wilson the volleyball my best.

PETER: I will! I would tell you to give my regards to Old Mrs. Henderson’s beloved cats, but I suspect they have shuffled off this mortal coil. In related news, your hairy life preserver smells like Whiskas.

MAGGIE: God, all this passive-aggression is getting me hot.

PETER: Let’s clasp hands and think about passion.

MAGGIE: And shaving.

PETER: Sure.

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