Carla: Hey, whitey. About that dye job crack... I'm sorry.
Diane: You're sorry? I don't think I've heard you say that before. [Woody hands Diane drinks] Thanks, Woody.
Carla: Yeah, I know. But I figure it's about time. I mean, now that you're Boston's number-one loser, I'm feeling... I'm feeling kind of different about you.
Diane: I'm flattered.
Carla: In fact I wanna apologize for all the crummy things I've said to you over the years.
Diane: Why, thank you, Carla.
Carla: Except for that one about your lizard lips. I like that one.
Diane: Exception noted.
Carla: And you know, the one about you having a personality you could store meat in. I'd like to keep that one alive too.
Diane: This is so like you. Covering up what are obviously some very fine, warm feelings. But I happen to know what you're really saying is you like me.
Carla: You're touching me.
Diane: It's called communication.
Carla: No, it's called a death wish.