F*ck, Marry, Kill: Han Solo. Luke Skywalker. Darth Vader.

"Let them eat Chandad!"

Ashley:  There’s got be a point in the day where you blink into realization that you’re one obedient militia away from basically being Nero. Like, one.

Jennifer:  Whatever. Sofia Coppola will avenge me and my loyal, beautifully dressed Death Star subjects 200 years later. Or, if Andrew Lloyd Webber is on this shit, like, 50 years! Hardly any time at all!

Ashley:  At least you know marrying Vader will lead to tragedy. You can’t be Imelda Marcos forever, Jen. You get all the shoes but eventually you have to fall from grace. And that’s why you should marry Han Solo, the universe’s most attractive man, and also all-around good guy.

Jennifer:  LIKE ACHILLES I WILL CHOOSE A LIFE OF GLORY RATHER THAN ONE OF CONTENTMENT. Even if it is over all too quickly.

Ashley:  I think you’re looking at this wrong way. In fact, you’re really being more like Paris; feckless, spoiled, glutted on pleasures of the flesh and all.

"Imagine the Iliad... but terrible."

Jennifer:  Paris… was not an empire builder? I’m creating a world full of light and beauty, using only my own indomitable will and the endless resources of my husband.

Ashley:  No. Paris sucked.

Jennifer:  The beauty of the Death Star will linger in C3PO’s mind for 1,090,969,785,645,486 years.

Ashley:  Great, Jen! Good thinking! Your influence will be so profound that a powerless, unloving machine can perform its most basic function: knowing stuff. Aim higher.

Jennifer:  The sight of the women in their gowns twirling, the string quartet in the background, the towers of champagne and macarons, the sweet smell of space violets – it will imbue him with a longing such as he has never know. A longing for the whirl, and the whirl, and the whirl… and the fever called “living.” On his deathbed he will cry out “If only I could have been one of them!” And people will think he means… not someone on the Death Star. But that is what he will mean.

Ashley:  Well, we’ve really talked ourselves into a corner. I’m still content with the knowledge I’m right–marry Han, have some wholesome missionary sex with Luke, kill Vader. But you really took this to a dark place.

"Women are always saying they want a nice guy but you give them ONE footrub and suddenly your masculinity's in question."

Jennifer:  A light place, Ashley. A place where all is shadowy beauty, and peace, and pleasure. And Givenchy. Givenchy is really not my style, is it? It looked really good when Audrey Hepburn wore it. I still like the way it sounds when you say it aloud. Givenchy. Givenchy. Givenchy.

Ashley:  It’s pretty different now. Way more Catholic guilt and surf goth, way less peplums and stuff you can wear to cocktail parties. Also, the blood of Alderaan is pretty much on you and I’m unsure we can stay friends.

Jennifer:  Did you know Mormons say you get a planet when you die?!

Ashley:  I did know that. But what do the people of Alderaan get, Jennifer?

To the polls!

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