[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]
PARIS: Listen, New BFF, if I have to hang out with you because I won you on my TV show, or whatever, then you need to remember to follow the rules.
BRITTANY: You can call me Brittany, you know. It's okay. We're BFFs.
PARIS: Rule number one is, you ALWAYS let me walk in front, so that the paparazzi can see more of me than they can see of you.
BRITTANY: Oops. I just thought, you know, I'm escorting you inside! Like a bodyguard!
PARIS: Did you say "escort"? I am NOT a call girl. I have sex for FREE. HOW DARE YOU IMPLY...
BRITTANY: You misunderstood me, Paris... I swear. Okay, got it. What's the next rule?
PARIS: You are not allowed to wear more layers or accessories than I am, or else everyone will be looking at YOU and not ME. I am the star here, BFF lady.
BRITTANY: Roger that.
PARIS: "Roger"? Why is everything about sex with you? Is that all you think that I do? Because I'll have you know, I went to Kitson today too.
BRITTANY: I didn't mean... look, this isn't going too well. What else can I do?
PARIS: Next time I wear a dress that kind of looks like the Kleenexes lying around my bathroom that I used to take off my makeup, you can stop me. Like, it's nice and stuff I guess, but sometimes it looks like a bad accident. This dress was a TEST and you FAILED.
BRITTANY: Got it. Shit. I just thought it was artsy.
PARIS: HA! Joke's on you! I don't even know what art LOOKS like!
BRITTANY. OK. What else?
PARIS: You can stop wearing headbands with feathers in them. Or is that a pen? Anyway, it's stupid. You look like Robin Hood's Scottish niece.
BRITTANY: Heh. Good one!
PARIS: Aww, BFF, are you kissing my ass?
BRITTANY: Yes. Yes, I am.
PARIS: Well done! Now THAT'S what I hired you to do.
