Brodie: After all he's done to you, you should still kinda stick it to him.
T.S. Quint: How do you propose I do that?
Brodie: You stinkpalm him.
T.S. Quint: Stinkpalm?
Brodie: You take your hand and stick it in your ass like this. You been walkin' all day and you're nervous, so no doubt you'll be sweaty as hell.
T.S. Quint: You should see yourself right now, a grown man with his hand down his pants.
Brodie: Yeah i probably look like my old man. So you shake hands with the guy, "Hello Mr. Svenning how have you been?"
T.S. Quint: Whats the point?
Brodie: You know how long it takes for that smell to come off? Scrub all you want, it'll stick around for at least two days. How does he explain it to his colleagues and family? They'll think he doesn't know how to wipe his ass properly.
T.S. Quint: Meanwhile you yourself are left with a hand that smells like shit.
Brodie: Small price to pay for the smiting of one's enemies.

Brodie: Brandi is the past my friend. You face forward, or you face the possibility of shock and damage.
[Brodie gets knocked down by a metal beam]
Brodie: Where the hell did that come from? What's going on here?
T.S. Quint: Looks like a stage is being erected.
Brodie: What is this monstrosity?
T.S. Quint: Maybe it's for the Easter Bunny pictures.
Brodie: Impossible, the Easter Bunny Court is down at the other end of the mall, it's been there since two days after Christmas. I want answers!

Virginia: Hey! What's going on?
Happy Gilmore: Oh, uh, I was just looking for the other half of this bottle and there's some of it and there's some of it right there, too.
Virginia: Why don't you just put it down?
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, I know.

Brandi: Suitor number 3, is your kiss like a soft breeze, a firm handshake or a jackhammer?
Gil Hicks: Definitely a jackhammer, I'm in there with some pressure and when I'm done, you're not the same as before. You're changed.
Brodie: Where do you come up with this shit? That's the cheesiest response to an honest question I have ever heard. I saw you kiss and it wasn't anything like that.
Bob Summers: [Chuckling] Suitor #2, you'll have to wait until you're addressed before you respond.
Brodie: Richard Dawson, why don't you just go back to your podium until it's time to play The Feud. All right?
[Audience laughs]
Gil Hicks: Who the hell did you see me kiss?
Brodie: Some dude backstage. I don't know who he was but he seemed unimpressed.
Gil Hicks: I didn't kiss any guy backstage. I swear. I'm not gay.
Brodie: Hey, Suitorette, this guys a homophobe. You heard how repulsed he sounded. Is this the kind of guy you want to spend a vacation with? This hate-monger?
Gil Hicks: I don't hate gay people.
Brodie: So you love them?
Gil Hicks: Yes. I mean no.
Brodie: Textbook closet case self-loather. Can't be comfortable with his own sexuality.

You're gonna listen to me? To something I said? Hasn't it become abundantly clear during the tenure of our friendship that I don't know shit?

Brodie

Brodie: Tell me, did you ever fart in front of her?
T.S. Quint: No, why do you ask?
Brodie: I never farted in front of Renee. Last week, I let one slip and today she dumps me.
T.S. Quint: Renee's not the shallow type. You're not insinuating...
Brodie: She was going down on me at the time.
T.S. Quint: [Retches]
Brodie: What can I say, I was feeling relaxed, when I feel relaxed I squirt.
T.S. Quint: If all she did was dump you, you got off light.

[singing, narrating] His friends would say stop whining, they've had enough of that. His friends would say stop pining, there's other girls to look at. They've tried to set him up with Tiffany and Indigo... But there's something about Mary that they don't know.... Mary, there's just something about Mary.

Jonathan

Brodie: The usual vault rules apply: Touch not, lest ye be touched.
T.S. Quint: You're such an anal retentive bastard.
Brodie: Hey, I tried to teach you how to handle comics in the sixth grade, but oh no. You wanted to play little league.

T.S. Quint: But they're engaged.
Brodie: Doesn't matter, can't happen.
T.S. Quint: Why not? It's bound to come up.
Brodie: It's impossible, Lois could never have Superman's baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle the sperm? I guarantee you he blows a load like a shotgun right through her back. What about her womb? Do you think it's strong enough to carry her child?
T.S. Quint: Sure, why not?
Brodie: He's an alien, for Christ sake. His Kyrptonian biological makeup is enhanced by earth's yellow sun. If Lois gets a tan the kid could kick right through her stomach. Only someone like Wonder Woman has a strong enough uterus to carry his kid. The only way he could bang regular chicks is with a kryptonite condom. That would kill him.
T.S. Quint: How is it that I go from the verge of hot Floridian sex with Brandi to man of steel coital debates with you in the food court?
Brodie: Cookie stand isn't part of the food court.
T.S. Quint: Of course it is.
Brodie: The food court is downstairs. The cookie stand is upstairs. It not like we're talking quantum physics here.
T.S. Quint: The cookie stands counts as an eatery, eateries are part of the food court.
Brodie: Bullshit. Eateries that operate within the designated square downstairs count as food court. Anything outside, of said designated sqaure, counts as an autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking. Now, if your going to wax intellectual about the subject...

Brandi: Second suitor: if we were making whoopee, what sounds would you make?
Brodie: Wait, what's whoopee?
Brandi: You know, being intimate.
Brodie: What? Like fucking?

Happy Gilmore: I got into this tournament for one reason: money. And now I have a new reason: kicking your ass!
Shooter McGavin: Well, I'd like to see you try.
Happy Gilmore: [Picks up beer bottle and smashes it in half] Let's do it, then!
Shooter McGavin: I meant on a golf course!

[to Tucker] We agreed I wouldn't fuck you, and you wouldn't fuck me until we got this other fuck outta the fuckin' picture!

Pat Healy

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