Taj: Doesn't she have a boyfriend?
Van Wilder: Details. Only details.

If Milty Mingleton can shove himself into that weenie bikini, then you don't need to be shy about making your donations to the swim team.

Van Wilder

We'll be accepting donations in the form of cash, visa, and full frontal nudity.

Van Wilder

Vance Wilder, Sr.: Where can I find Van Wilder?
Wasted Guy: In the Guinness Book of World-fucking-Records, man... under "Raddest Fucking Dude Alive"!
Vance Wilder, Sr.: Ok. Thanks.
Wasted Guy: In any one of these three rooms, Gramps.

Joan Baxter: Maybe God didn't mean a flood in the literal sense. Maybe he meant a flood of... awareness.
Evan Baxter: If that's true... I'm going to be so pissed.

Gwen: What was that girl, a freshman?
Van Wilder: She reads at a sophomore level.

In my country, a woman's mastery of her gastronomical releases is considered the ultimate aphrodisiac!

Taj

People! The flood is imminent!

Evan Baxter

Gwen: Is it true this is your seventh year at Coolidge?
Van Wilder: Carry the two, yes that's correct.

Melissa: Hi, I'm Melissa Robinson.
Ace Ventura: Pleasure to meet you.
Melissa: Did you have any trouble getting in?
Ace Ventura: No, the guy with the rubber glove was surprisingly gentle.

Jack: Fucking chick's married, man.
Miles Raymond: What?
Jack: Her husband works a night shift or something, and he comes home and catches me on the floor with my cock in his wife's ass.
Miles Raymond: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Sandy: Carl I want you to kill all the gophers on the golf course
Carl Spackler: Correct me if I'm wrong Sandy, but if I kill all the golfers they'll lock me up and throw away the key.
Sandy: Not golfers, you great fool. Gophers. The *little* *brown*, *furry* *rodents*.
Carl Spackler: We can do that. We don't even need a reason.

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