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: Days get shorter and shorter, nights longer and longer, before you know it, your life is just one long night with a few comatose daylight hours.
: I'm looking for the Manager. Doug
: What's the problem? Did you find a hair in your quiche? Brian
: No, I'm looking for a job. Doug
: Ah, you'd like to put a hair in somebody else's quiche.
: Please, I don't want to end it this way. Brian
: Jesus, everything ends badly, otherwise it wouldn't end.
: Coughlin's law: never show surprise, never lose your cool.
: You're offering me a job? Doug
: Uh huh. Brian
: The waitresses hate me! Doug
: You wait till you've given them crabs. Then you'll really know hatred.
[Flanagan's advice to his unborn child:
: If Jordan gives birth to a fine Irish son / There will be Cocktails and Dreams for him one day to run / A business that will yield the financial windfall / To be franchised in every suburban shopping mall. / If a daughter arrives to bless our clan / I guess the shit will finally hit the fan / But this I shall promise thee / I'll never let her marry a guy like me. / Still if our child is the naughtiest of girls or the wildest of young men / I swear I'll be the best dad I can / And never ever get spooked again.
[Last Barman poem
: I am the last barman poet / I see America drinking the fabulous cocktails I make / Americans getting stinky on something I stir or shake / The sex on the beach / The schnapps made from peach / The velvet hammer / The Alabama slammer. / I make things with juice and froth / The pink squirrel / The three-toed sloth. / I make drinks so sweet and snazzy / The iced tea / The kamakazi / The orgasm / The death spasm / The Singapore sling / The dingaling. / America you've just been devoted to every flavor I got / But if you want to got loaded / Why don't you just order a shot? / Bar is open.
: Not a goddamned thing any one of those professors says makes a difference on the street. Doug
: If you know that, you're ready to graduate.
[Jordan is drawing a picture of Brian
: So this is your profession. Jordan
: More like my... obsession. Brian
: To pay the rent? Jordan
: Someday it will.
: Should we let it breathe? Doug
: It hasn't breathed for fifty years, it's dead. Let's just drink it.
: I'll stick with the brew. Doug
: Beer is for breakfast around here, drink or be gone.
[Jordan has returned to her father's Park Avenue penthouse to find Brian arguing with him
: I think there's a chance for us. Jordan
: Brian, there is no "us." There's too many things about "us" that don't work. Brian
: What about the baby? A kid needs a father. Jordan
: Not one who's not going to be around in a year? Mr. Mooney
: Yeah, with your lifestyle, what kind of a father would you... Jordan
: Listen, I'm sorry I called you a bitch. Eleanor
: Why? I am a bitch.
: [telling Bonnie he's moving out of her place
] I left a can of Spam in your refrigerator... I hope your Brewers Yeast doesn't take it personally.
: I'm willing to start at the bottom. Job Interviewer
: You're aiming too high.
: Come on, put it to the floor! Come on! Let's go!
: Bet I can still spook you. Brian
: No way.
[she whispers in his ear
: Twins? Twins?
: Twins! Drinks are on the house! Uncle Pat
: No! No! Brian
: The bar is open!
: Mighty Casey has struck out. Brian
: The game's not over yet. It wouldn't be any fun if they fell over with their legs in the air, would it?
: [looking at Jordan's painting
] Is this our waterfall? Jordan
: No. Brian
: It's terrific. Jordan
: Yeah, it's all right. The name's Mooney, not Monet.
: I've been thinking about you all day. Brian
: Really? A plane ride home will cure that.