Andrew Clark: So... what's your poison?
[no answer]
Andrew Clark: ... Ok, forget I asked.
[first lines]
Allison Reynolds: Vodka.
Andrew Clark: Oh yeah? How much vodka do you drink?
Allison Reynolds: Tons.

Tom: Stay away from her.
Jake Taylor: Suck my dick.

What the fuck, man? You shot me in my stomach! I'm gonna die now, probably. Man, I had y'all over for dinner! Fish tacos! This is how you do me?

Red

Mason: [after being punched in the nuts] Why?
Tipper: You know why!

Wayne Campbell: Will you still love me when I'm in my carbohydrate, sequined-jumpsuit, young-girls-in-white-cotton-panties, waking-up-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit, bloated-purple-dead-on-a-toilet phase?
Cassandra: Yeah.
Wayne Campbell: Okay, party. Bonus.

With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know.

Raoul Duke

Jane: Would you like a nightcap?
Frank: No thank you, I don't wear them.

Russell Ziskey: You could join a monastery.
John Winger: Did you ever see a monk get wildly fucked by some teenage girls?
Russell Ziskey: Never.
John Winger: So much for the monastery.

Peter Gibbons: You're gonna lay off Samir and Michael?
Bob Slydell: Oh yeah, we're bring in some entry-level graduates, farm some work out to Singapore, that's the usual deal.
Bob Porter: Standard operating procedure.
Peter Gibbons: Do they know this yet?
Bob Slydell: No. No, of course not. We find it's always better to fire people on a Friday. Studies have statistically shown that there's less chance of an incident if you do it at the end of the week.

Jack Fuller: Richard Banger? So your name is Dick Banger! Dick Banger!
Banger: And yours is Jack? Jack off! Jack off

Vance: [grabs Hitch by the wrist] You see what I'm doing? This is what I'm about - power suit, power tie, power steering. People can wince, cry, beg, but eventually they do what I want.
Hitch: Oh! So that's, like, a metaphor?
Vance: Oh, yeah.
Hitch: Right. Well, see, I'm more of a literal kind of guy. So when I do this...
[he reverses the grip, twists Vance's arm back and slams him on the table]
Hitch: This is more like me saying that I will literally *break your shit off* if you ever touch me again. Okay, pumpkin?

Ed Rooney: What's the score?
Pizza Joint Owner: Nothin' nothin'.
Ed Rooney: [not really listening] Who's winning?
Pizza Joint Owner: The Bears.

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