Hi, I'm here for a shoot
with Elliott DiMauro.
Yeah, he's back there.
Oh, wait. Kristanna.
Hey, long time no see.
Wow. How's my gal?
Do I know you?
It's me.
That doesn't help.
Ah, no, wait. Kristanna.
It's Dennis Finch.
We met three years ago at the Armani show.
You asked me for a glass of water,
and I said, "I'm not a waiter."
and you said, "Sorry," and I said, "Listen,
"why don't we quit the grinnin'
and drop the linen?"
Then a security guard came over,
and I said, "Hey, Sasquatch,
get your five-buck- an-hour paws off me."
and then I kneed him in the how-do-you-do.
You remember?
Did I shoot you with pepper spray?
Ha ha. Yes. Yes, you did.
Okay, sure, sure, I remember you now.
Oh, yeah. Good times, huh?
Whoa!
Hey, listen, Kristanna,
why don't we, uh, go out tonight?
Oh, I don't know.
I mean, it might be awkward
because we're such good friends,
and I'd hate to lose that.
Yeah, but, Kristanna...
Friends it is.
[***]
Come on, now.
Think.
We need story ideas.
Okay, I've got it.
How about a 10-page spread on the comeback of fur?
What comeback of fur?
The one she's been trying to launch
ever since she got those snow leopard hot pants.
Oh, come on.
Now, someone has to take a stand.
We fur lovers are tired of living in fear.
Why, my friend Binnie's new mink coat
was splattered with red paint
by one of those anti-fur thugs outside of Rockefeller Center.
Of course, she fainted right on the spot.
Seeing her lying there,
covered in what looked like blood,
her cheeks sunken from an unfortunate face-lift,
well, naturally,
the paramedics just assumed
that she had jumped to her death from the rooftop.
Thank God she had her cell phone,
or she'd still be in that body bag.
I've had marriages shorter than that story.
Well, people,
it took extensive research,
countless hours,
five drafts,
but I am done.
Done with what?
Jack, remember last summer,
when someone spilled coffee on your desk,
and you said,
"There ought to be a law"?
Well, now there is.
"The Blush magazine
"Manual of Employee Ethics, Morals,
"and Personal Behavior,
Volume One."
So, what's in this thing?
Well, it covers everything
from office etiquette to fire safety,
with just a dash
of the Iraqi penal code.
Well, it's hard to argue with fire safety.
Excellent job, Dennis.
Keep up the good work.
Wait just a minute, you little ferret.
What is this supposed to mean?
"Hemlines shall be
in direct inverse proportion to age."
Uh, that's simple.
If you wore miniskirts
in the '60s,
spare us in the '90s. Yeah.
[LAUGHING]
Jack...
Hey, what can I do? It's in the rules.
Yeah,
so cover those bony broomsticks, will you?
Oh, Elliott, you know what's really funny?
Section 12.
What?
"No sexual relations with fellow employees"?
Oh, come on, this is an outrage.
Relax. Models aren't employees.
All hail the manual.
Sorry I'm late.
Damn security guard wouldn't let me through again.
He refuses to believe this ID photo is me.
Yi...
And you're mad at him for that?
Oh, I think it totally captures you.
Yeah, someone should,
for science.
I know, I know. It's a terrible picture.
I have never taken a good picture
in my entire life.
Maya, you're exaggerating.
You've taken some great pictures.
How about that one of you surfing?
That's a caricature.
I thought your head looked big.
Well, it's always the same.
My face is all scrunched up, my eyes are half-closed.
I look like... Popeye?
A smurf?
Eleanor Roosevelt sneezing?
What the hell is a smurf?
It's that little blue man on your wife's lunch box.
Well, you've all been very supportive.
Why do we even need photo IDs?
Because otherwise,
any lunatic could walk in off the street
and do Nina's job.
Maya, if you hate it so much,
I'm sure Elliott here
could take a wonderful photograph of you.
Oh, I wouldn't want to bother him.
Thank you for understanding.
Oh, it's no bother,
said the man who signs his checks.
You want me to take a photo ID?
That's like asking Picasso to paint your bathroom.
No, it's like telling Picasso to paint your bathroom.
Fine. I'll paint your bathroom.
Am I the only one here
uncomfortable with this analogy?
So, this is your studio, huh?
Yeah.
Shouldn't there be
a sign on the door for the models
that says, "You must be this dumb to enter"?
Yeah, yeah, you're killing me. Come on in.
What's this?
It's from a shoot
for your article on health care.
What does this have to do with health care?
She was also wearing a nurse's hat.
* Ah, rickadee, Rickadee *
* Rickadee, rickadee * Dee, dee *
Boy, you have your work cut out for you.
I have never taken a good picture
in my entire life.
Never?
Well, there's that one shot of me
on Splash Mountain
that's relatively good, mainly because
the rest of the log is going like this.
Baah!
You want to hear my theory?
On what?
I think you can't take a good picture
because you're subconsciously sabotaging yourself.
Excuse me?
Yep.
You're afraid you're not pretty enough,
so you protect yourself by making a weird face.
That's ridiculous.
Okay. Smile.
Come on,
this isn't one of those squirty cameras.
Once, when I was in Australia,
I tried to take a picture
of an Aborigine tribesman
who was afraid
my camera would steal his soul.
Oh, let me guess.
You made him feel really relaxed,
and you took a great picture.
No, he bit me and stole my Jeep.
And your point is?
Don't bite me.
[PLAYING SOFT JAZZ MUSIC]
Now, close your eyes.
Just go with me on this.
Imagine you're wearing a long black velvet dress
and you look fabulous.
You walk through this crowded party,
and you see this amazing man
looking at you
from the other side of the room.
Your eyes meet for a brief instant,
but, not to look too forward,
you turn away.
I'm telling you, this isn't going to work.
Shh. Every few minutes,
you catch each other's gaze,
and each look
is different from the last.
First it's playful,
and then it's coy,
and then finally, sultry and seductive.
Now he can't keep his eyes off of you.
You're far too mysterious,
you're far too beautiful.
He raises an eyebrow
and gestures as if to say, "May I join you?"
He's looking at you, Maya...
and this time, you smile.
Now take off your blouse.
What?
That's where you were headed, right?
Hey, Maya,
I've got the picture for your ID.
Oh, here we go again.
Wow.
It's so...
not horrible.
Get over yourself.
No, seriously,
this is the greatest picture
anyone's ever taken of me.
It's so sexy.
What was that for?
It's too sexy.
I'm not following you.
This picture is too sexy.
I understand the word "too"
and the word "sexy."
Put them together, it's just gibberish.
You can't even see.
God, you are so used
to turning women into sex objects,
you turn my simple photo ID into a centerfold.
It's a gift.
No.
No, it's completely inappropriate.
It sends the wrong message.
What message are you trying to send?
My name is Maya Gallo, and I'm a professional.
And this says...?
My name is Maya Gallo,
and my naughty girlfriends and I are waiting for your call.
Here. Dad, take a look at this photo
and tell me what you think.
[WHISTLES]
Sexy.
Kind of looks
like a girl I used to run around with.
Dad... that's me.
Well, if you'll excuse me,
I'll just go in my office and put my eyes out.
Hi.
Are you busy?
Just setting up for a shoot.
Let me guess. Tax reform?
Look, um...
I have to know something.
How did you manage to take
the first really great picture of me ever?
Simple.
I let nature take its course.
What does that mean?
It means all women want to be seduced.
Oh, that is such a crock.
Hmm.
Is it?
[SMOOTH JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
What are you doing?
Hmm?
Nothing.
Is this some pathetic attempt to get me into bed?
No. Don't be ridiculous.
Champagne?
I can't believe I'm about to tell you this, Maya,
but the first time I saw you, I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't speak. I could hardly stand.
Oh, please.
Go on.
Suddenly, my soul was alive.
My heart was racing,
and this voice inside me
was shouting,
"If you do nothing else right
"in your life,
"don't let this magnificent woman,
"this soft, tender miracle,
slip through your fingers."
Mm.
Good morning.
I'm calling my parents.
Ooh.
Hi, Mom and Dad. It's Wally.
Just calling to see how you're doing.
I'd love to see you both real soon.
Well, that's about it.
Love you both. Bye.
So your parents finally broke down
and got an answering machine?
No.
You just can't let my mom
start talking.
Hey, what's with the precaffeine smile?
Oh, I had a great dream.
About what?
Well, I can't really remember,
but it was definitely romantic.
There was this bed...
Uh-huh.
with candles and champagne,
and there was a guy, but it's weird.
I can't for the life of me remember who it was.
Was there a second woman?
No, Wally. That's your dream.
Ah-ha-ha, Nina.
I'm just gonna assume
you didn't read the "no smoking" rule
last night
because you were out sleeping around.
Oh, I read it.
I also saw the "no pets" rule,
yet, strangely, Jack still has you.
Uh, seriously, no smoking.
Hey, back off. It helps me relax.
Oh, Nina, there are better ways to relax.
For example, my desktop zen garden.
Lookie here. I'm Nina.
I'm raking away my worries.
I'm transported to a happier place,
where beauty is measured in wrinkles.
Hey, you're right. That does help.
Good morning.
Nina. Finchy.
Elliott.
Whoa.
Maya spill,
Aisle Five.
Hey, can we get a mop
and a price check
on a pair of floral underpants?
I saw them.
I... I just...
I was thinking of something,
and I-I-I just didn't see that.
Uh, what were you "th-thinking" about?
Nothing.
You say "nothing," but Finch hears "something."
Look, I am really busy right now,
so why don't you just buzz off
and mind your own sex dream...
Business.
Whoa.
Starship Maya, shields down.
So, a sex dream. Uh, how was I?
Absent.
Oh, that hurts,
but I'm over it.
Hmm.
Who could you have a sex dream about?
Hey, Maya,
I heard you want me.
Want you?
Why would I want you?
I don't know. I got a message.
Oh, uh, yeah.
I need to see the proofs on the perfume layout.
I thought we put that to bed.
Oh, no, we did no such thing.
Okay, keep your pants on.
[FORCED LAUGH]
[CHUCKLES]
Let me guess.
Elliott was a swashbuckling pirate,
and you were his saucy wench.
Okay, that's enough.
Maybe he was a wind-burnt cowboy,
and you were the cattleman's daughter.
You can stop now.
Was he a stern prison warden,
and you were one of the Crips?
All right.
Now, listen.
If anyone hears anything about this,
I'm gonna flatten your head
and fax it to your next of kin.
Understood?
Personal faxing's no longer permitted.
Okay, Allie. Put the phone in the crib.
Hi, Hannah.
Daddy's gonna sing you a song about...
his desk.
* Oh *
* Markers and pencils and pens *
* And keys to my Mercedes-Benz *
* A cup And an empty green bottle *
Damn it, Jack.
* Oh, look It's a grumpy ex-model **
Did you hear that, Hannah-Bear?
Can you say "Daddy"?
Well, that was close. She burped.
Ah. I'll call Mensa.
Okay, sweetie, got to go.
Bye, Allie.
I'm telling you, Nina,
having a baby
is the most wonderful joy in the world.
You should try it.
I like my breasts where they are, thank you.
Anyway, I thought you should know
that Finch is on some sick power trip.
What now?
I was just out there
telling that hysterical story
about Liza Minnelli
and the bag of talcum powder
at Studio 54,
when he shoved this stupid manual
in my face.
Page 102.
"Inappropriate office vocabulary includes
"Studio 54,
"Liza Minnelli,
and any mention of singing show tunes in jail."
Boy, I'll miss that story.
Jack!
Come on, Nina.
Show him a little compassion.
Oh...
Hey, Jack,
I'm gonna need your signature on this.
Oh, what,
you want to get out of gym class
because the other boys throw too hard?
Hey, did they have gyms when you were young,
or was it just a lot of jousting?
* Here is the paper *
* All signed **
Ha ha. That's cute.
Hey, uh, do you want me to, uh,
take that banjo
and put it in your car for you?
Why?
So you can drive it home
and put it in your closet.
You want to take away my banjo?
Uh, permission to speak freely?
Spit it out, Dennis.
Well, as much as I enjoy the evocative strains
of your cornhusk-smokin', cousin-pokin',
hillbilly strumfest,
I'm afraid it's against the rules,
as per Section Three of the manual.
Section...
Section Three.
Aha.
Uh... Heh heh.
Willful destruction of the manual
is prohibited under Section Six.
Section Six.
Having second thoughts about the manual,
are you?
Uh-huh.
Sorry your manual
was such a colossal waste.
What you call a waste,
I call 400 hours of overtime.
Cha-ching!
Here are the captions for those.
I decided to go with a little more detail,
so you might have to widen a bit.
What?
Nothing.
So, we'll need
a little bit more background space,
and I was thinking we could try incorp--
Why are you smiling?
No reason. Go on.
So I was thinking...
He told you.
Who told me what?
Finch. Finch didn't tell me anything.
Are you sure? Sure, I'm sure,
so just calm down and mind your own sex dream.
Oh, God.
Oh, come on, it's no big deal.
Practically everybody's had a sex dream...
about me.
Who had a sex dream about who?
You told him.
How could you?
It came up in conversation.
How did it come up in conversation?
Uh, Elliott said "Hi,"
and I said,
"Guess who had a sex dream?"
Who had a sex dream about who?
No one about no one.
Maya did, about Elliott.
About Elliott?
Oh, honey, it was a dream.
You could do so much better.
Okay, what are we talking about?
Nothing. Sex dreams.
Ooh, sounds fun.
Who had a sex dream? I want details.
Maya did, about Elliott.
You people are sick.
Look, you know,
before you get too cocky,
I know why I had that dream about you.
I'm listening.
Well, maybe you were right
about how I try to sabotage myself,
because, you know, growing up with my dad,
always surrounded by these perfect women,
well, you can imagine,
and yesterday,
when you took that picture of me and made me feel beautiful,
well, it's just been a long time since someone had done that,
and...
you know, I had a dream about it.
It could've been anyone.
No big deal.
Well, that's one way to look at it.
I have a slightly different interpretation.
Oh? What's that?
You want me.
Trust me.
I am not the least bit attracted to you.
And yet we got it on in the Land of Nod.
Congratulations. Now I want you even less.
All right, prove it.
What are you talking about?
Kiss me. Kiss me, then look me straight in the eye
and tell me that you don't want me.
I don't need to kiss you to know I don't want you.
One kiss.
I wouldn't kiss you to save the rain forests.
See you tonight, Sleepy.
I will never have another dream about you
as long as I live.
Wait. I wasn't ready.
[KNOCKING]
I've been thinking
about what you said today,
how you don't have any feelings for me,
and I just want to know...
Did you really mean that?
What do you think?
I think that you're afraid
that if you open up
and make yourself vulnerable
that somehow you'll lose control...
Is it...
hot in here?
but the thing you have to understand
is that romance is about losing control.
What makes it scary is what makes it so good.
And a bit bright in here too.
For once in your life,
you have to just put your fear aside
and finally let go.
I think you owe it to yourself.
I think you talk too much.
WOMAN: Elliott?
Elliott.
Huh?
What are you thinking about?
Nothing.
Hey, me too.
[***]
* Life keeps bringin' me Back to you *
* Keeps bringin' me home *
* It don't matter What I want to do *
* 'Cause it's got A mind of its own *
* Life keeps bringin' me Back to you **