Larry Arbogast: Did you know women are 20 times more likely to be depressed than men? Maybe more, can't remember the exact number - it's a lot more.
Brian: That's good... for men.
Larry Arbogast: Not really, when you think about heterosexually.
Al Lolly: Alright... I'll send my girl by this afternoon... take a look, work out the financing. Fourteen grand is the price you quoted me not a penny more so don't try to Jew the price up on me. You're not... Jewish, are you?
Brian: No, I'm not, but there's...
Al Lolly: [interrupting] Good. Just a figure of speech. I'm half Jew myself. I work with Jews. They Jew me all day long so I can say it.
Al Lolly: [getting in car after Happy and Brian secretly had sex there] Smells like a wharf net in here.
Al Lolly: You heard me. Smells like low tide.
Happy: That's weird.
Brian: I don't smell anything.
Happy: What are you reading?
Brian: Uh, it's an article about a Tibetan Rinpoche who plays basketball with some other monks in Arizona. It says they got in fight with five advertising executives in front of a bunch of kids. What are you reading?
Happy: Um... mostly just ads.
Brian: [first lines - watching rats swimming] Okay, he stopped.
Larry Arbogast: Which one?
Larry Arbogast: Start the stopwatch.
Brian: Is he okay?
Larry Arbogast: Yeah, he's fine... Stop.
Brian: What does that mean?
Larry Arbogast: Nothing. Well, the logic is that when forced into an aversive situation, i.e., being dumped into a pool, the rat will oscillate between attempts to escape and resigning to its fate.
Brian: Oh, and this guy gave up.
Larry Arbogast: Today he did.
Brian: Does he usually?
Larry Arbogast: Yeah. See, I'm trying to quantify how helpless this one feels, and why more today than yesterday. Though it seems that Mr. Seven is always a little bit of a quitter.
Roger Stovall: You can sell salt to a slug, *if* you listen to the slug.
Al Lolly: You know I had brain cancer once, Brian?
Al Lolly: Yup. A Huge tumor on the recesses of my temporal lobe.
Brian: But you're okay now...
Al Lolly: Yep. 100% holistic. No chemo, no radiation.
Brian: Whad you do?
Al Lolly: I mapped the pathology of the cancer with my mind. Very Chinese. Yep. Glad I moved it. I got it with meditation. I pushed it down to the fatty tissue of my temporal lobe, 2 months. Then I moved it down into my nasal cavity, 3 months. Then, then one day I just hocked it up. About the size of a little squash bar, maybe bigger. Do you play squash Brian?
Happy: This effectively combines three of my great fears: the dark, heights, and public nudity.
Mr. Weathersby: [last lines - smelling the baby's diaper] Brian, there's a goose loose in the caboose, and I've long since graduated from that detail.
Mr. Weathersby: Champagne. Cocktails. Drinks. Encores. Come on everyone, we must drink up. Hey, one big fucking day...
Mrs. Weathersby: He's been sweet his whole life, but he never had the family the other kids did. Everyone thought that we were his grandparents. He told his teacher once that his real parents died in a car crash and his grandparents took him on.
Happy: He did?
Mrs. Weathersby: Well he was confused, I guess. I don't blame him. It wasn't disloyal, it was, he was just trying to make everything seem normal I suppose. But, nothing's normal.
Happy: You guys seem pretty normal.
Mrs. Weathersby: We're not. You have a right to be worried and afraid.
Happy: I'm just afraid that I've fucked everything up beyond repair.
Mrs. Weathersby: Nothing's fucked up, nothing's beyond repair.
Happy: Thank you.
Larry Arbogast: Hey, you gotta swim if you wanna bang at home. That's reality. Remember that.
Larry Arbogast: If she had any idea how many times a day I masturbated thinking about her, she'd probably sue the university. And she'd be right. It's inappropriate.