Quentin Tarantino's grindhouse flick, "Death Proof," is one of my favorite movies of all time.
And not just for this brilliant exchange between Abernathy (Rosario Dawson) and Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead):
Abernathy: Listen to this, the "Circle A" clerk has this month's issue of Italian Vogue.
Lee: No way!
Lee: I can't believe a fucking "Circle A" clerk carries Italian Vogue.
Abernathy: It doesn't. It's his own personal copy. He'll let it go for 27 bucks.
Lee: [scoffs] 27 bucks?
Abernathy: What the fuck do you care? We're talking about fucking per diem here. We found an issue of Italian Vogue in Lebanon, Tennessee. We're lucky he's not asking for fuckin' Krugerrands. I'm getting it, and we're splitting it three ways.
Lee: What? Me, you, and Kim?
Abernathy: No. Kim doesn't give a shit about Italian Vogue. But Brandy will come in with us, and if she won't, Tyson, her assistant, will.
Lee: Okay, but if anyone tears out any sheets that I want, you gotta make color Xerox copies of those pages, and I'm not talkin' fuckin' Kinko's here either. You take it to the
art department and have them do it fucking right.
Now, I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit that I, myself, have spent more than 27 dollars on a single issue of Vogue.
$34.95 each, plus tax.
But when you're gifted with 300+ pages of this:
... the mental image of tossing your money up into the air just seems to float away like so many fives and tens.
"Fiscal responsibility, you lookin' pretty unfamiliar right now!"