Romy and Michele's High School Reunion Page #6

Romy White|and Michele Weinberger.

Honey, go on up there|and get your medal.

Okay.

How weird. I didn't|even know we were voting.

Get me another daiquiri.

Here you go.

Um, I'm sorry.|I couldn't find my top.

Honey,|that is beautiful.

May I take that|for you, sir?

No, no, no.|You leave me alone.

Looking at your medal|from the reunion again, dear?

You miss her,|don't you?

Duh.

Michele...

have you been terribly unhappy|with me all these years?

Oh, no.|No, Sandy.

Oh, good.

I've just been lonely|with no one to talk to.

Why don't you call her?

- Okay.|- Yeah.

- Hello?|- Billy Christianson?

Oh, no, no,|I'm-I'm Billy Junior.

Oh, Billy, honey,|is your mommy home?

Well, yeah.

Yeah, but, uh, she can't come|to the phone right now.

She-She's on|her deathbed.

- Romy.|- Oh, dear.

Billy, honey...

tell your mommy that|Michele Weinberger-Frink...

is on the phone...

and would very much|like to speak with her.

No.

Not until you admit...

that I'm the Mary,|and you're the Rhoda.

I'm the Mary.

I'm the Mary!

I'm the- You're a pasty hag|on a deathbed.

I'm the Mary.|Everybody knows.

Way to go, honey.

Oh, God.

Oh, we're really here.

- Oh, God.|- Good evening, sir.

Thanks for not|waking me up, Romy.

God, what a b*tch.

Don't get me wrong

If I'm looking|kind of dazzled

I see neon lights

Whenever you walk by

Don't get me wrong

- Hey, Romy White.|- Hey.

- Where's Michele?|- I don't know.

Um, anybody see|Billy Christianson?

- Try the bar.|- Thanks, man.

Don't get me wrong

Oh, excuse me, excuse me.|You-you can't go in without a name tag.

- Oh, okay.|- Okay.

Uh, Michele Weinberger.

Oh, my God, Michele Weinberger!|My God, you look great!

It's me, Toby.|Oh, Toby Walters.

- Uh-huh.|- Okay.

Um, oh, here it is.|Here is your name tag.

And, um, Romy|is already inside.

- I could care less. I am not here with Romy.|- You're kidding me.

No, we're not|even friends any more.

We had this big falling out|over Post-Its.

- Post-Its?|- It's a long story.

- See ya.|- W-W-

I'm only off to wander

Across a moonlit night

Once in a while

Two people meet

Seemingly, for no reason|they just pass on the street

Suddenly thundershowers|everywhere

Who can explain|the thunder and rain

But there's somethin'|in the air

Ooh, excuse me.

Hi, Romy.|How are you?

- Lisa Luder?|- Yes.

So, where's the rest|of the "A" group?

Oh, they're around here|someplace.

We sort of lost touch|over the years.

Wow. Isn't it weird when you're|not friends with your friends any more?

I mean, Michele and I just fell|out of touch about two hours ago.

Because she's selfish...

and she always,|like, devalues me.

And I'm sick of it,|you know?

God, you guys are easy|to talk to.

I invented Post-Its.

- You know, the yellow things with the stickum on the back?|- Yes, I know what they are.

So, uh,|what are you up to?

I'm an associate fashion editor|for Vogue.

Wow! Wh-|Good job!

Boy, I must have, like,|every single issue of Vogue...

for the past ten years.

Okay, well, it was|very nice talking with you.

Nice talking to you too.

Okay, Romy.

It might just be|fantastic

Don't get me wrong

It was so cute.

My mom gave us|a new car seat for the baby.

And when the box arrived, little|Jake looks up at me and says...

"Mommy,|is that the baby?"

- Oh.|- I wish.

Hey, everyone.

- And so we meet again.|- Oh, hi.

Romy White.

You're the chubby girl.

Oh, well, I was, but I haven't|been for a really long time.

So, what are|all of you up to?

Christie, in the yearbook you said|that you wanted Jane Pauley's job.

Are you a big TV news|anchorwoman now?

Oh, no, I don't even|watch TV any more.

My priorities have changed|since I became a mommy.

Can you believe|this is number three?

Wow, three kids.

God, you must feel|really tied down.

Not at all.|I feel very fulfilled.

Besides, Billy always|wanted a big family.

- Billy Christianson?|- Mm-hmm.

- You married Billy Christianson?|- Mm-hmm.

For almost ten years now.

Billy's in|real estate development.

So, how about you?|Any kids?

Oh, uh, no.

I just haven't had time, you know, what|with running my own business and all.

Your own business?

Yeah.|I invented Post-Its.

No, really.|What do you do?

That's what I do.|I invented Post-Its.

Oh. You're kidding me.

Well, I've made|a lot of money.

Oh, you know who they say|has made a ton of money? Sandy Frink.

- The Frink-a-zoid?|- Yeah.

He invented some special kind of rubber that's|used in every tennis shoe in North America.

Hey, if anybody|needs to make a call...

I've got a phone.

- Is Sandy Frink here?|- Uh, no.

- Uh, you can't go in without a name tag.|- F*** off!

Heather Mooney? Oh, my God,|you're exactly the same.

Oh, my God.|Heather Mooney is here?

This ought to be so good.

Oh, God, don't look now.|It's Heather Mooney.

- What?|- Hello, Romy.

Uh- E- Uh- You-

Oh, uh- Heather,|you said you weren't coming.

Yeah, well, since Sandy|and Michele aren't married-

What a waste|of a tank of gas, huh?

Okay, well, come on.|I'll help you go find him.

Uh, he's not here. I already asked Toby|Dumbfuck. Obviously, I've interrupted.

Why don't you just go back to ignoring|me like you did in high school?

No, you can stay.

We're just discussing our class|success stories. So, what are you up to?

Ever hear of Lady Fair cigarettes?|I invented the quick-burning paper.

- Wow, we have a whole class full of inventors.|- Meaning?

Oh, you know, Sandy Frink|invented something too.

- Hey, isn't that Sandy over there now?|- What did Sandy invent?

- Some kind of rubber. - Romy here|invented Post-Its. - You did not.

- Yeah, I did.|- You did not.

- Yeah, I did.|- You did not.

Yeah, I-|Well, who did then?

A guy named Art Fry|from the 3M Corp.

We studied it|in business school.

You're kidding me.

You just|made all that up?

Oh, God,|you are so weird.

- Why don't you just leave her alone?|- Michele.

Oh, it's|the back brace girl.

- Hi, back brace girl.|- Hi, back brace girl.

Oh, shut up.

And what are you|picking on us for anyway?

We are not the ones|who got fat.

We're pregnant,|you half-wit.

Oh, yeah, well...

I hope your babies|look like monkeys.

Come on, Romy.

- Oh, Romy.|- Oh, please, go away. Just leave me alone.

Why did I even|come back here?

Well, you know what? There are worse|things than telling some dumb story...

and having everybody|laugh at you.

- Like what?|- Like losing your best friend.

You know? I mean,|I had the worst dream, Romy.

I dreamt that we weren't friends|and we were really, really old.

But I mean, like, we were, like,|really, really old.

And-And we weren't friends.

I can't stand that|we're mad at each other.

Okay, I'm sorry|I said all those things.

You're as cute as me.|You are.

And-And in some cultures,|maybe cuter.

I'm sorry too.

I shouldn't have said that you weren't|smart enough to invent Post-Its.

Well, I mean,|maybe I'm not.

Although in my dream,|I did know the formula for glue.

So, are we friends again?

Well, duh.

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