Quotes

Jenna: Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it.

Jenna: I was addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone.

Earl: Hey. You remember what I said - don't you go lovin' that baby too much.

Jenna: I don't love you, Earl. I haven't loved you for years. I want a divorce.

Earl: [laughs] Well, that's not a funny joke. You got this new baby here, you shouldn't be making jokes like that...

Jenna: I want you the hell out of my life. You are never to touch me, ever again; I am done with you. If you ever come within six yards of me, I will flatten your sorry ass and I'll enjoy doin' it.

Jenna: Dear Baby: If I was writing you a letter, it would probably sounds something like an apology. I know everyone deserves a mama who'd want a nice baby such as yourself... who was also a good wife, a fine member of a society. And I can't rightly say that I'm any of that. And I'm not sure the world is scuh a fine place to bringing you. Many of the people I've met are not worth meeting. Many of the things that happened are not worth living through. And you shouldn't take it personal, Baby... if I don't seem like all the other mama-to-be, jumping all over themselves with joy. I frankly don't know what I got to give you, Baby. What if I leave Earl, and don't win that contest next week, and don't have money? What the hell am I gonna give you then? All my life, Baby, the only thing I wanna do is run away. What kind of mama is that? I wish I could think other things, Baby, like excitement that you with me now... or faith that I'll be a good mama... even if my life ain't such a good place, and the world as I see it ain't so pretty like they'd have you believe in this book. Anyway, writing this letter to you, sounds more like a letter writing to me, don't it? Love, Mama.

Dr. Pomatter: I want to talk to you, somewhere outside of here. Maybe we can have a coffee or something?

Jenna: I can't have coffee, it's on the bad food list you gave to me. What kind of doctor are you?

Jenna: I Hate My Husband Pie... You take bittersweet chocolate and don't sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel

Old Joe: [after reading a news column about a woman contemplating suicide] Oh I love living vicariously through the pain and suffering of others.

Dr. Pomatter: Un-congratulations, you're definitely having a baby.

Jenna: Un-thank you.

Old Joe: You with child?

Jenna: Shh! Quiet!

Old Joe: I seen that look on a woman's face before. Name was Annette. I made sweet sweet love to her all through the summer of 1948. She had that look on her face like you got all through the fall. I almost married her right up. She lost the baby, though. Close call.

Jenna: Well, Cal, it seems that I'm almost five months pregnant.

Cal: Yeah? And?

Jenna: And... I thought I should tell you.

Cal: Heck, I already knew that.

Jenna: You did?

Cal: Yeah. Heck, I thought everyone knew.

Jenna: Well who told you?

Cal: Nobody needed to tell me. I mean look at you. What, you think I thought you went and let yourself get fat? Truth is, as long as you can carry a tray and fill a pie tin I don't care if you give birth while doing it. Maybe I'm not such a bad guy after all?

Jenna: Maybe you're not such a bad guy after all.

Cal: Well get out there Jenna, get back to work, we've got customers!

Jenna: I don't want you to save me. I don't need to be saved.

Earl: Open the cabinet where the coffee and the sugar jars are.

Jenna: I dont want...

Earl: [shouting] Just open it!

[Jenna opens the cabinet, and money falls out]

Earl: What is that, Jenna? What is that?

Jenna: Money.

Earl: It's all over the fuckin' house! In cabinets, in drawers, under chairs, in closets! Money hidden all over my house!

Jenna: [whispering] I'm sorry.

Earl: After everything I've done for you, you go and hide money from me?

[falls to his knees, sobbing]

Earl: You're the only thing I ever loved, Jenna. You're the only person that ever belonged to me. And you having a secret from me tears me up.

Cal: And you, late again. You are inches away from being fired missy.

Becky: Oh just try firing me, you old bucket of cheese.

Cal: Who are you calling a bucket of cheese you heifer? Now get to work before I fire your ass!

Becky: Calm down, you psychotic ape!

Dr. Pomatter: Well, I'm off to St. Mary's... to deliver a baby... because that's what I do.

Dawn: I don't care if she is a pie genius. I wouldn't trade places with her.

Becky: No, me neither.

Jenna: Cal?

Cal: Yeah?

Jenna: Are you happy? I mean, would you call yourself a happy man?

Cal: Well if you're asking me a serious question, I'll tell you: I'm happy enough. I don't expect much, I don't give much, I don't get much I'm generally enjoy whatever comes up. That's my truth, summed up for your feminine judgment. I'm happy enough.

Earl: I don't care if you are fat now. You're my sweet thing.

Old Joe: [after Earl showed up and yelled at Jenna] You wasn't exaggerating. Your husband is terrible.

Old Joe: Give me a smile, Jenna. Nobody makes strawberry chocolate pie the way you do. Wednesday's my favorite day of the week 'cause I get to have a slice of it. I think about it as I'm waking up. Could solve all the problems with the world, that pie.

Jenna: You're making too much of it. It's just a pie.

Old Joe: Just a pie? It's downright expert, a thing of beauty. How each flavor opens itself one by one, like a chapter in a book. First the flavor of an exotic spice hits you, just a hint of it. Then you're flooded with chocolate, dark and bittersweet, like an old love affair. And finally strawberry, the way strawberry was always supposed to taste, but never knew how. In fact, I'll tell you what. Forget all the other stuff I ordered, just bring me the damn pie. That's all I want. I don't care if it isn't a well-balanced meal, just bring me the pie. Old Joe'll maybe not have much longer to live, you know?

Jenna: Then I'd better bring you the pie right away.

Old Joe: Yessum, you better.

Dawn: I know what you should do with that prize money, Jenna. You should open your own pie shop.

Becky: Oh, yeah! You should have your own little pie shop somewhere. Somewhere where they could really use a little pie shop, like Europe or New Jersey.

Jenna: I'll go get you your water and juice with no ice but you gotta promise me you'll keep your mouth shut about this baby.

Old Joe: What baby?

Jenna: [pause] Good man.

Becky: [as Jenna waits for the results of her pregnancy test] Negative. Negative. Come on, negative. Come on!

Dawn: Dear Lord, please protect our Jenna from the hell of unwanted pregnancy.

Jenna: I don't need no baby. I don't want no trouble. I just want to make pies. That's all I wanna do, make pies.

Becky: I thought you weren't sleeping with your husband no more.

Dawn: He got her drunk one night.

Jenna: I should never drink. I do stupid things when I drink, like sleep with my husband.

Dawn: I feel sorry for you, Jenna. I mean, I'd do anything to meet a man, and Becky's husband is a senile fruitcake.

Becky: Dawn!

Dawn: Well, I'm sorry. It's true.

Jenna: I do have one question.

Dr. Pomatter: Shoot.

Jenna: How pregnant am I, exactly?

Dr. Pomatter: Very pregnant. There's really only one degree of pregnancy, so to speak.

Jenna: No, I mean how far along am I?

Dr. Pomatter: Uh, about six weeks. Give or take.

Jenna: Yup, that was Earl getting me drunk that night, alright.

Becky: Look at this, Jenna. As you can plainly see, my right boob is much higher than my left boob, and Dawn here has pasty, pasty skin. I'm stuck in a marriage to Droolin' Phil the Invalid, and Dawn eats TV dinners alone. But still, we wouldn't rather be you.

Dawn: I do have pasty, pasty skin.