Last night was The Opposite of Sex, Christina Ricci's 1998 movie.
She plays a completely unlikeable and untrustworthy manipulative user, who wrecks the lives of her brother, her brother's boyfriend, her brother's deceased former boyfriend's sister, and her own old boyfriend. Most of them end up better off at the end, but only despite her own destructive efforts.
The best part was a rant in the middle, delivered by her brother, who is otherwise such a nice guy that it's almost painful.
Listen to me, you little grunge faggot. I survived my family, my schoolyard, every Republican, every other Democrat, Anita Bryant, the Pope, the fucking Christian Coalition, not to mention a real son of a bitch of a virus, in case you haven't noticed. In all that time since Paul Lynde and Truman Capote were the only fairies in America, I've been busting my ass so that you'd be able to do what you wanted with yours! So I don't just want your obedience right now — which I do want and plenty of it — but I want your fucking gratitude, right fucking now, or you're going to be looking down a long road at your nipple in the dirt! Do you hear what I'm saying?!
I loved that scene so much I burst into applause, then stopped the DVD and replayed the whole scene again.