Gib: I'm gonna miss you, Lance.
Lance: It's your own fault, you know. You should be coming out to California with me.
Gib: Yeah, right. Get a totally bitchin' education out there, dude. California. You could be coming to New England with me, you know.
Lance: Are you crazy? The Ivy leagues stink. All they got there are those ugly intellectual girls with Band-Aids on their knees from playing the cello. No thank you.
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