The Brady Bunch Movie (1995)
Eddie: Get out! This is a car jack!
Greg Brady: [rolls down the window] Well, of course this is a car. But my name's not Jack. It's Greg.
Greg Brady: Hey there, groovy chicks. You're all hip in far out ways.
Marcia Brady: [shows Doug her swollen nose] I suppose you don't want to go out with me now, huh?
Doug: Oh, of course I do. It's not your nose I'm after.
Marcia Brady: Oh those are pretty pictures, what have you modeled for?
Marcia Brady: Are you a Breck girl?
Model: No, Guess Jeans.
Marcia Brady: Levi's? Wrangler? Osh Kosh B'Gosh?
Mike Brady: I couldn't have put it better myself, Jan. But I'll try anyway.
Jason: Marcia, I may be able to use you as a model, but first you'll have to do a little work on yourself.
Marcia Brady: You mean like walking with a book on my head?
Jason: No, I mean like cutting that mousy hair, capping those teeth, and losing about 30 pounds, my little sausage. How do you feel about breast implants?
Marcia Brady: [slaps him] Cut my hair?
Peter Brady: If Mom and Dad have to sell the house, we'll have to move.
Bobby Brady: Go to a new school.
Jan Brady: Make new friends.
Marcia Brady: But Jan, you don't have any friends.
Mike Brady: As a wise man once said, "Wherever you go, there you are."
[Doug kisses Marcia]
Marcia Brady: Doug! I think I just felt your tongue in my mouth.
Doug: It's called a french kiss.
Marcia Brady: But I thought you were from Nebraska!
Charlie: Hey, I heard what you said, Doug, and I'm not gonna let you talk to Marcia like that.
Doug: Well, what are you gonna do about it, geek?
Charlie: I'm gonna lose consciousness.
Charlie: Marcia, I think I just felt your tongue in my mouth.
Marcia Brady: It's called a French kiss, Charlie.
Charlie: Um, Marcia, I gotta go. Uh something suddenly came up.
Sam: Wait a minute, I've got something for you.
Alice: [rolls her eyes] Unless it fits on my fingers, I gotta hit the hay.
Sam: It better fit, or I'm gonna have to take it back.
Alice: [gets excited, closes her eyes and sticks out her hand] Sam, I thought this day would never come!
Sam: [Gives Alice a bowling ball] When I saw it, I thought it was right up your alley.
Alice: I'm bowled over.
Bobby Brady: Excuse me, officers, but I hate to ask a law enforcement official to bend the rules, especially for Penal Code 117, Section 33b, but our house is at stake.
Mike Brady: Our house is more important than money. This neighborhood is more important than money. Tell me. How many times have we borrowed each other's power tools or patched up each other's kids? We know so much about each other. I know that every January, Mr. Yeager is going to have that big Super Bowl party at his house. We know that every spring, Mrs. Simmons is going to have the prettiest daffodils on the block. We know that at 10:15 every Saturday morning, Mrs. Topping likes to walk through her living room naked. Call me old-fashioned, but these things are important, and they're not for sale. This is our neighborhood, and we're staying.
Eric Dittmeyer: [about Marcia] I live next door to her, and she's harder to get into than a Pearl Jam concert.
Marcia Brady: [after getting hit in the nose with a ball] Now I'll never be a teen model.
Jan Brady: [suggesting a way to raise money] I saw a sign at school today for a Search For The Stars contest. First prize is exactly twenty thousand dollars.
Marcia Brady: Oh sure Jan, like we'd really win.
Marcia Brady: [suggesting a way to raise money] I've got it! We could enter that Search For The Stars contest! First prize is twenty thousand dollars!
Greg Brady: That's a great idea, Marcia!
Bobby Brady: Great idea, Marcia!
Jan Brady: Am I invisible? Do I not have a voice? I had that idea two days ago!
Peter Brady: [disgusted] Oh come on, Jan.
[Mrs. Dittmeyer tucks mail into Greg's pants]
Mrs. Dena Dittmeyer: My, you've gotten so big. You're almost as big as your daddy.
Greg Brady: And I'm still growing.
Mrs. Dena Dittmeyer: Right before my very eyes.
Holly: I think you're really neato.
Peter Brady: [Peter's voice has suddenly dropped an octave] Why uh, thank you Holly. I think you're Ginger and Mary Ann combined.
Mr Dittmeyer: Why don't you hop back on the Swiss Miss package where you belong huh?
Cindy Brady: Okay!
Cindy Brady: [lisps] Mom asked me to ask you if there's any mail for us here by mistake.
Mr. Dittmeyer: I don't understand you. What do you want?
Cindy Brady: Mom asked me to ask you if there's any mail for us here by mistake.
Mr. Dittmeyer: What?
Cindy Brady: Mom asked me to ask you if there's any mail for us here by mistake.
Mr. Dittmeyer: Nope, not a clue.
Mrs. Dena Dittmeyer: She wants the Brady's' mail, Larry!
Mr. Dittmeyer: Thank you, darling! So kind of you to climb out from under your hangover.
Mike Brady: Cindy, you know by tattling on your friends, you're really just tattling on yourself. By tattling on your friends, you're just telling them that you're a tattletale. Now is that the tale you want to tell?
Carol Brady: Why don't you help Alice bake some cookies?
Cindy Brady: Okay Mommy
[talking to Alice]
Cindy Brady: Can my doll help too?
Alice: As long as it's not Betsy Wetsy. She makes my cookies soggy woggy.
[Talking about the Brady's odd ways]
Mr. Steve Yeager: One time I was over there. One bathroom for nine people? And I never did see a toilet.
Woman next to Steve: Get out!
Mr. Dittmeyer: Steve!
[Noreen is in bed with Marcia]
Marcia Brady: Noreen, is that you?
Noreen: Oh, sorry, I thought that was my leg.
Doug: Marcia, got a minute?
Marcia Brady: Forget it Doug. Even with a swollen nose, I can still smell a rat.
Mike Brady: Alone, we can only move buckets. But if we work together, we can drain rivers.
Jan Brady: [her inner voice] She has every right to be mad; they are her socks. But why does Marcia get all the socks? Why does Marcia get all the trophies? Why does Marcia get all the good drawers?
Jan Brady: Yeah, why does Marcia get everything? Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!
Jan Brady: [her demonic inner voices] Watch my head spin! Kill! Kill! Kill!
Jan Brady: No, stop it! I can't take it anymore!
[her demonic inner voices]
Jan Brady: Ah, shut up you loser!
Grandma: Jan, cut the crap!
Jan Brady: They're gone! Thank you Grandma!
Carol Brady: Marcia it looks like rain, you better take your shawl. How about you Doug? Do you have any protection?
Doug: Oh, yes ma'am. Assorted colors and textures!
Carol Brady: Good for you!
Mike Brady: Have fun, kids.
Bobby Brady: Boy, you sure have some strong thigh muscles Mrs. Whitfield.
Mr. Phillips: How should I put this delicately, Mike? Your designs are from another time.
Mike Brady: That's kind of you to say, Mr. Phillips. I've always thought of my style as classic as well.
Mr Dittmeyer: We'll be so rich you can hire an Eskimo to sit on your face.
Marcia Brady: [in Jan's thought] But Jan, you don't have friends. You're just jealous Jan.
[Jan wakes up, holds a pair of scissors like a knife, and starts to cut Marcia's hair]
Cindy Brady: Jan, what are you doing?
Jan Brady: Go back to sleep Cindy!
Cindy Brady: Jan don't. Marcia's hair is so beautiful.
Jan Brady: Exactly. That's why I'm gonna make alot of money when I sell it.
[Jan continues to cut Marcia's hair]
Jan Brady: [laughs psychotically]
Cindy Brady: [Screams]
[Carol and Alice come into the room]
Carol Brady: Jan, what are you doing?
[Marcia's got a new hairdo]
Carol Brady: Oh Marcia, I love your hair!
Alice: What a groovy hairdo!
Cindy Brady: Oh, you're so beautiful!
Jan Brady: No! She was supposed to look bad! No! No!
[Jan wakes up]
Jan Brady: What a horrible dream.
Trucker: Sounds like some family misses someone they love very much.
Jan Brady: I don't have a family!
Trucker: Oh, no family. You know, sometimes I'm out here working the graveyard shift, and, I can't help thinking what might have been. If I had settled down early and had kids. Three boys, three girls. Ah, but then a little voice in my head says "are you kidding? They'd probably just treat you like a maid."
[Offering a cup to her]
Trucker: You want some of this, Jan?
Jan Brady: No thanks. You have a little voice in your head, too?
Trucker: Oh, honey, when you're on the road as long as I am, you've gotta talk to somebody.