[to caddy] Where were you on that one, dipshit?

Happy Gilmore

Happy learned how to putt, UH-OH!

Happy Gilmore

Son of a bitch ball. Why can't you go home? Aren't you good enough for your home? ANSWER ME! Suck my white ass ball!

Happy Gilmore

Terry: All you ever talk about is becoming a pro hockey player, but there's a problem: you're not any good.
Happy Gilmore: I am good. You know what, you're a lousy kindergarten teacher. I've seen those finger-paintings you bring home and they SUCK.

Chubbs: It's all in the hips. It's all in the hips. It's all in the hips. It's all in the hips.
Happy Gilmore: Get off of me.
Chubbs: Just easing the tension, baby. Just easing the tension.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, well ease it on someone else.

Shooter McGavin: I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast.
Happy Gilmore: [laughing] you eat pieces of shit for breakfast?
Shooter McGavin: No... I...

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.

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!

If I saw myself dressed like that, I'd have to kick my own ass.

Happy Gilmore

Quite a large and economically diverse crowd here at the Michelob Invitational.

Announcer

Grandma: Sir, can I trouble you for a warm glass of milk? It helps me go to sleep.
Nursing Home Orderly: You can trouble me for a warm glass of shut-the-hell-up. Now, you will go to sleep or I will put you to sleep. You're in my world now, grandma.

Virginia: [to Shooter] Did you see that?
Shooter McGavin: Yes. Nice shot.
Virginia: He just got a Hole-in-One on a *par four* !
Shooter McGavin: I know. I just said I saw it.
Virginia: [laughs] Oh, I hope he wins. He's a publicist's dream. I mean, a guy who could drive the ball *that* far - oh, he could *really* draw a crowd.
[Virginia walks away smiling]
Shooter McGavin: [muttering] You know what *else* could draw a crowd? A golfer with an arm growing out of his ass.

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