Frank: [recounting his suicide attempt] But he went and fell in love with a colleague of mine; Larry Sugarman, the number 2 expert on Marcel Proust in America.
Richard: Who's number 1?
Frank: That would be me, Richard.

Officer: Okay, you're out. On the condition that you never enter your daughter in a beauty pageant in the state of California, ever again. Ever.
Frank: I think we can live with that.

Pageant Official: What is your daughter doing?
Richard: She's kickin' ass... that's what she's doing.

We were driving for six or seven hours... and we thought he was napping...

Richard

Olive: I'd like to dedicate this to my grandpa, who showed me these moves.
Pageant MC: Aww, that is so sweet.
[Audience applauds]
Pageant MC: Is he here? Where's your grandpa right now?
Olive: In the trunk of our car.

Grandpa: Again with the fucking chicken.
Richard: Dad.
Grandpa: It's always with the goddamn fucking chicken.

Frank: Can I get you anything from inside?
Grandpa: Yeah, get me some porn. And get some real nasty stuff, none of that airbrushed shit. And here, get something for yourself. Get yourself a fag rag.

Olive: Why were you unhappy?
Frank: I fell in love with someone...
Grandpa [blows nose loudly]
Frank: ... who didn't love me back.
Olive: Who?
Frank: One of my grad students. I was very much in love with him.
Olive: Him? You fell in love with a boy?
Frank: Very much so.
Olive: That's silly.
Grandpa: There's another word for it...

Sheryl: She can't go. They've got some equestrian thing.
Richard: Oh, they do that horse shit every weekend.

Sweet sweetness!

Richard

Frank: I take it you didn't like it at Sunset Manor?
Sheryl: Frank...
Grandpa: Are you kidding me? It was a fucking paradise. They got pool... They got golf... Now I'm stuck with Mr. Happy here, sleeping on a fucking sofa. Look, I know you are a homo and all, but maybe you can appreciate this. You go to one of those places, there's four women for every guy. Can you imagine what that's like?
Frank: You must have been very busy.
Grandpa: Ho oh. I had second degree burns on my johnson, I kid you not.
Frank: Really?
Grandpa: Forget about it.

Pageant Assistant: Are you authorized to be backstage?
Dwayne: [without stopping] No.

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