Smoke

SMOKE

Man 1: "Hey, Liz, what's in the box?"
Man 2: "What's in the box?"
Man 3: "What's in the box?"

LIZ: It's my Little Voice of Self-Doubt.

LVoSD: Liz, ATO will never put this out!
You won't be washing dishes in this town!
They'll make mud out of you! Is that what you want?!
You're well on your way, kid!
It's CAREER SUICIDE!
Kaput!
Ka-blooey!
Ka-blam!

There--smoke on that!
There--smoke on that! (You dummy!)

"Um, 'Liz Phair'?"
Yacht Bouncer: "Sorry, you're not on the list."
"Could you check it again please?"
YB: "I already checked it. Please move to the back of the line."
"Which list do I have to be on?"
YB: "If you have to ask, you're not on it."
"Wait--Whoa! Whoa, whoa!"
YB: "You're NOT getting in."
"Fine--Fuck you!"
YB: "Have fun on land."

There--smoke on that!
There--smoke on that! (You dummy!)

[NOTE: I couldn't decide how to describe/denote the Sick-Dog/Charlie-Brown's-Teacher/Braying-Jackass-Record-Exec "voice." Actually, that's a pretty good description, come to think of it.]

SD/CB'sT/B-JRE: <unintelligible>
"No--I mean, Jon Brion's really cool, I just think we should do something a little more 'Chicago.'"
SD/CB'sT/B-JRE: <unintelligible>
"Yeah, we could give a track to iTunes."
SD/CB'sT/B-JRE: <unintelligible>
"I don't know John Mayer. I met him."

(You dummy!)
There--smoke on that!
There--smoke on that! (You dummy!)