garcianacho/Scripts · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 1 3.04k
I see. So more like a tight rope walker who secretly wants to be a trapeze artist.
I guess.
Interesting.
She said peanuts, you cretin.
You never know around here.
Don't write that part.
Is this an gritty expos or a candy ass press release?
Write what you want. Just try not to make it so obvious that you're crazy about me.
Life must be peachy on Planet Ted.
Funny you should say "peachy."
I did my homework. Your grandfather was a peach farmer.
My adoptive grandfather. Who knows what my biological grandfather did.
Undoubtedly an aristocratic bartender of some sort.
Considering this is your first time on a private jet, on which you are interviewing the world's most eligible bachelor, you are extremely cavalier.
I bet there are lots and lots of mirrors on Planet Ted.
See? You're impertinent, rude, sarcastic.
And this is not my first time on a private jet, so quit acting like I'm Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.
A little respect would be nice, that's all.
Well? What do you think of her?
You're so twitterpated you don't even see the miner's hat and the pickax.
You're implying she's, what, a gold digger?
Charlie's right. Jealousy is so unattractive.
Second only to unbridled, narcissistic conceit.
Why can't you be nice to me?
You've got enough people kissing your ass.
Wow...you clean up nice.
Put your eyeballs back in your head, William Randolph. I'm on assignment. A girl has to fit in.
Where are we going?
To the best hiding place in the world.
I can't believe your dad built this for you.
He didn't. He had it built.
Whatever.
Not "whatever." It's two different things.
He cared enough to want you to have it.
He phoned it in.
I see.
I doubt it.
Now it makes sense, the whole neo Bohemian, down with hypocrisy, fight the power crap. You're a poor little rich girl.
The ozone must be fully depleted on Planet Ted.
You think my dad would have been like that if I knew him? You think he would have bought me a stadium, instead of teaching me how to play ball?
Your dad taught you everything.
I mean my father.
A father is nothing but sperm, Ted. It takes a real man to be a dad.
It's all so complicated.
It's incredibly simple.
I feel like I'm being drawn and quartered. Like every part of me is being pushed and pulled and tugged in a different direction.
Eventually you'll let go.
And then what?
Then you'll see who's really holding on to you.
You're amazing.
I know.
Even when you infuriate me, I still want to kiss you.
But you never do.
If we were a team, we could do anything. I mean, anything.
Cut to the chase, William Randolph. Your audience is way ahead of you.
In a word: MERK. EXPOSED.
That's two words. And I'm out of the "exposed" business, remember? I need to graduate. Besides, Merk's a boy scout.
There's gotta be something. We have to dig deeper.
You forget, I dislike YOU at least as much as him.
He shut down your paper! You're stuck writing articles about swap meets and raffles and PTA brunches!
A good journalist can take lemons and make lemonade. I'm honing my craft.
Then you won't mind covering that watermelon seed spitting contest next week...
That's probably my office.
Well? Where the hell are you?
He's on the move?
I got an anonymous tip and an address in Cincinnati.
Let's do it.
I don't know. This place seems pretty tame.
You expected whips, chains, Merk being cattleprodded by some dominatrix in a leather hood?
At least it's not another 4H meeting or a Big Brother barbecue.
Amen to that.
Look at us. It's one o'clock in the morning, on a school night. We're in a smoky nightclub, hoping to catch our principal with some big city tart.
I'm trembling with excitement.
That has more to do with your proximity to me.
My desire betrays me, like goosebumps on my flesh.
I have a bit of a goosebump fetish. Not many people know that.
I figured you for more of a hairy armpit guy.
Shoes, if you want to know the truth. Shoes are my thing.
Wearing them? Or humping them?
My fantasy is a totally naked woman, wearing nothing but a Timex and suede clogs.
That's refreshingly deviant.
What about you?
I'm very aural.
Tell me more.
Sounds, voices, music, humming. All of it can turn me on, or off, like a switch.
I see.
I had a Portuguese boyfriend who could read the phone book and melt me.
A Portuguese boyfriend. Sounds very "Cosmo."
You live and learn. I realized the most important thing to me, above all, is trust.
Turned out to be a scoundrel, eh? I saw that one coming.
You lose trust in someone and it's over, done, gone, forever.
Do you trust me, Julie?
Not a chance.
Come on.
Trust is something you earn, over time. You don't just inherit it overnight like a gazillion dollar empire.
I want you to trust me.
Maybe someday.
Julie, I'll tell you something that is the god's honest truth. I've seen a lot of really beautiful girls. I mean a lot. But none of them make me feel like you do.
That's hard to believe.
But absolutely true.

I see. So more like a tight rope walker who secretly wants to be a trapeze artist.

I guess.

Interesting.

She said peanuts, you cretin.

You never know around here.

Don't write that part.

Is this an gritty expos or a candy ass press release?

Write what you want. Just try not to make it so obvious that you're crazy about me.

Life must be peachy on Planet Ted.

Funny you should say "peachy."

I did my homework. Your grandfather was a peach farmer.

My adoptive grandfather. Who knows what my biological grandfather did.

Undoubtedly an aristocratic bartender of some sort.

Considering this is your first time on a private jet, on which you are interviewing the world's most eligible bachelor, you are extremely cavalier.

I bet there are lots and lots of mirrors on Planet Ted.

See? You're impertinent, rude, sarcastic.

And this is not my first time on a private jet, so quit acting like I'm Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.

A little respect would be nice, that's all.

Well? What do you think of her?

You're so twitterpated you don't even see the miner's hat and the pickax.

You're implying she's, what, a gold digger?

Charlie's right. Jealousy is so unattractive.

Second only to unbridled, narcissistic conceit.

Why can't you be nice to me?

You've got enough people kissing your ass.

Wow...you clean up nice.

Put your eyeballs back in your head, William Randolph. I'm on assignment. A girl has to fit in.

Where are we going?

To the best hiding place in the world.

I can't believe your dad built this for you.

He didn't. He had it built.

Whatever.

Not "whatever." It's two different things.

He cared enough to want you to have it.

He phoned it in.

I see.

I doubt it.

Now it makes sense, the whole neo Bohemian, down with hypocrisy, fight the power crap. You're a poor little rich girl.

The ozone must be fully depleted on Planet Ted.

You think my dad would have been like that if I knew him? You think he would have bought me a stadium, instead of teaching me how to play ball?

Your dad taught you everything.

I mean my father.

A father is nothing but sperm, Ted. It takes a real man to be a dad.

It's all so complicated.

It's incredibly simple.

I feel like I'm being drawn and quartered. Like every part of me is being pushed and pulled and tugged in a different direction.

Eventually you'll let go.

And then what?

Then you'll see who's really holding on to you.

You're amazing.

I know.

Even when you infuriate me, I still want to kiss you.

But you never do.

If we were a team, we could do anything. I mean, anything.

Cut to the chase, William Randolph. Your audience is way ahead of you.

In a word: MERK. EXPOSED.

That's two words. And I'm out of the "exposed" business, remember? I need to graduate. Besides, Merk's a boy scout.

There's gotta be something. We have to dig deeper.

You forget, I dislike YOU at least as much as him.

He shut down your paper! You're stuck writing articles about swap meets and raffles and PTA brunches!

A good journalist can take lemons and make lemonade. I'm honing my craft.

Then you won't mind covering that watermelon seed spitting contest next week...

That's probably my office.

Well? Where the hell are you?

He's on the move?

I got an anonymous tip and an address in Cincinnati.

Let's do it.

I don't know. This place seems pretty tame.

You expected whips, chains, Merk being cattleprodded by some dominatrix in a leather hood?

At least it's not another 4H meeting or a Big Brother barbecue.

Amen to that.

Look at us. It's one o'clock in the morning, on a school night. We're in a smoky nightclub, hoping to catch our principal with some big city tart.

I'm trembling with excitement.

That has more to do with your proximity to me.

My desire betrays me, like goosebumps on my flesh.

I have a bit of a goosebump fetish. Not many people know that.

I figured you for more of a hairy armpit guy.

Shoes, if you want to know the truth. Shoes are my thing.

Wearing them? Or humping them?

My fantasy is a totally naked woman, wearing nothing but a Timex and suede clogs.

That's refreshingly deviant.

What about you?

I'm very aural.

Tell me more.

Sounds, voices, music, humming. All of it can turn me on, or off, like a switch.

I see.

I had a Portuguese boyfriend who could read the phone book and melt me.

A Portuguese boyfriend. Sounds very "Cosmo."

You live and learn. I realized the most important thing to me, above all, is trust.

Turned out to be a scoundrel, eh? I saw that one coming.

You lose trust in someone and it's over, done, gone, forever.

Do you trust me, Julie?

Not a chance.

Come on.

Trust is something you earn, over time. You don't just inherit it overnight like a gazillion dollar empire.

I want you to trust me.

Maybe someday.

Julie, I'll tell you something that is the god's honest truth. I've seen a lot of really beautiful girls. I mean a lot. But none of them make me feel like you do.

That's hard to believe.

But absolutely true.