You tried to milk him, didn't you you sick son of a bitch?

Jack Byrnes

Late Night Courier: Gaylord M. Focker?
Greg Focker: That's me.
Jack Byrnes: I thought your name was Greg.
Greg Focker: It is.
Late Night Courier: That's not what it says here.
Greg Focker: Gaylord is my legal name. Nobody's called me by it since third grade.
Denny Byrnes: Wait a minute, so your name is Gay Focker?

Pam Byrnes: What's the matter sweetie? Can't sleep?
Greg Focker: No, no. I was just going over my answers to the polygraph test your dad just gave me.

Greg Focker: Don't worry about your little covert op, I'll keep it on the low down.
Denny Byrnes: Down low.
Greg Focker: No doubt.

Jack Byrnes: Greg's in medicine too.
Bob Banks: What field?
Greg Focker: Nursing.
Bob Banks: Ha ha ha ha. No, really, what field are you in?
Greg Focker: Nursing.

Pam Byrnes: Greg Honey, how are you doing?
Greg Focker: Oh great, considering I desecrated your Grandma's remains, found out you were engaged, and had your Father ask me to milk him.

[in the car listening to "Puff the Magic Dragon"]
Greg Focker: Who'd have thought it wasn't about a dragon.
Jack Byrnes: Huh?
Greg Focker: Well some people think that 'to puff the magic dragon' means to... puff... smoke... a marijuana cigarette.
Jack Byrnes: Puff is just the name of the boy's magical dragon... You a pothead, Focker?
Greg Focker: No, I pass on grass always. Well not always.
Jack Byrnes: Yes or no?
Greg Focker: No, um, yes, um...

Jack Byrnes: Did you flush this toilet?
Greg Focker: Maybe... You know what, maybe Jinx flushed it. I saw little Jinxy in there last night and he took a squatted... relieved himself.
Jack Byrnes: Jinx knows not to use that toilet and even if he did, he'd never flush it.
Greg Focker: What does it matter?
Jack Byrnes: The matter, Greg RN, is that when this toilet is flushed, it runs, and when you have a septic tank that's nearly full and a toilet that's been running all night, then you could have a hell of a problem.

Bob Banks: What is that smell?
Jack Byrnes: That smell, Bob, is our shit. Focker flushed the toilet in the den so the septic tank overflowed.
Greg Focker: I told you, Jack, it wasn't me, it was Jinx.
Jack Byrnes: FOCKER, I'm not gonna tell you again. Jinx cannot flush the toilet. He's a cat for Christ sakes!
Larry: The animal doesn't even have thumbs, Focker.

Dina Byrnes: Now Greg, you have a *very* unique last name and Jack and I were wondering how to pronounce it?
Greg Focker: Oh, just like its spelt. F-O-C-K-E-R.
Dina Byrnes: F-Focker.
Jack Byrnes: Hmm, Focker.

I understand you may have had sexual relations with my daughter before, but under our roof, it's my way or the Long Island Expressway. So just keep your snake in its cage for 72 hours.

Jack Byrnes

Oh, oh check my pulse on this one, Jack. Do I think you're a psycho? Yes.

Greg Focker

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