Chazz Reinhold: Yeah, her boyfriend just died. In a hang-gliding accident! What an idiot! What a loser!
[sarcastically imitating dead boyfriend]
Chazz Reinhold: "Hey, I'm hang-gliding! Aaaahhh! Take a picture, honey, I'm dead!

John Beckwith: Claire's mom just made me grab her hooters.
Jeremy Grey: Well snap out of it! What, a hot older women made you feel her cans? Stop crying like a little girl.
John Beckwith: I wasn't crying like a little girl.
Jeremy Grey: Why don't you try getting jacked off under the table in front of the whole damn family and have some real problems, jackass. Hey, what were they like anyway? They looked pretty good, are they real? Are they built for speed or comfort? What'd you do with them? Motorboat? You play the motorboat?
[makes sputtering motorboat noise]
Jeremy Grey: You motorboatin son of a bitch! You old sailor you! Where is she? She still in the house?

John Beckwith: Seamus O'Toole.
Jeremy Grey: Bobby O'Shea.
John Beckwith: I'm ready to get drunk!

I'm gonna go see Dr. Finklestein and I'm gonna tell him we have a whole new bag of issues. We can forget about mom for a while.

Jeremy Grey

Jeremy Grey: [quarterbacking a touch football game] John! Red seven!
John Beckwith: I don't know what red seven means.
Jeremy Grey: Hot route!
John Beckwith: I don't... What is hot route?
Jeremy Grey: Will you just go stand on the other side please?

She hasn't answered your calls, she didn't respond to any of your letters, she didn't respond to the candygram. God only knows what happened to the kitten you got for her. 'Cause she didn't keep it, and I know you're not raising the goddamn thing. I think it's very obvious at this juncture that she just flat out does not wanna see you anymore.

Jeremy Grey

Jeremy Grey: [in response to the outfit he's wearing] I'm not even gunna say it, but you know I'm upset.
John Beckwith: Yes. But I think you look good.
Jeremy Grey: You know I don't look good.

[speaking to the priest] This girl's fit for a strait-jacket. I mean she's fucked three ways to the weekend. But you know what, Father? I dig it!

Jeremy Grey

John Beckwith: Get up, you're making us look like pussies.
Jeremy Grey: If I had any air in my lungs I'd scream at you.

I'd like to be cowboys from Arizona or pimps from Oakland but it's not Halloween. Grow up; Peter Pan, Count Chocula.

John Beckwith

Jeremy Grey: I'm getting married.
John Beckwith: Get out!
[points at the door]
Jeremy Grey: But you just said you were happy...
John Beckwith: I'm hanging by a thread. I'm reading don't-kill-myself books.
Jeremy Grey: You said the book wasn't yours.
John Beckwith: Don't worry about the book. It's not mine. But I glanced at it.
Jeremy Grey: John...
John Beckwith: Kindly leave!
Jeremy Grey: But...
John Beckwith: Kindly leave!

John Beckwith: You better lock it up.
Jeremy Grey: No, you lock it up!
John Beckwith: You lock it up!
Jeremy Grey: You lock it up!
John Beckwith: You lock it up!
Jeremy Grey: Lock it up!

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