Professor Lawrence (Larry) Gopnik to his students: “The Uncertainty Principle. It proves we can’t ever really know what’s going on. [Pause] But even though you can’t figure anything out, you will be responsible for it on mid-term.”
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| Adriana: | Christopher, don't get mad, okay? I know we kinda touched on it a couple times ... but you're so unhappy. What if we left here? Went far away? And you went into something else. |
| Christopher: | Like what? |
| Adriana: | I don't know, like ... pick up your writing maybe? Male modeling? |
| Christopher: | I'll get back to the writing some day - but from a position of great wealth. As far as male modeling, I'd probably be a success, but I wouldn't want to be around those fucking people. I'm a soldier, Adriana, when you gonna understand that? |
Just imagine … you need to perform at a MySpace event, as a comedian — what’s the one thing you must tell? A joke about Facebook? Probably. Ira Wright (Seth Rogen) thought the same — and came up with this line: Fuck Facebook in the face!
By the way, James Taylor, the singer, he’s there too, he sings one of his classics (I think it’s Carolina in my Mind), and later Ira says to him: “Do you ever get tired of singing the same songs, you know, over and over?”
And James Tayler says: “Do you ever get tired of talking about your dick?”
Well …
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Juniour Soprano (Dominic Chianese) is just shooting the shit with a few guys, telling jokes at the Loungenette Sit Tite.
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Bobby Funke: Where were you last night?
Him: That’s where I was last night. (He puts two fingers under Bobby’s nose.)
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Her: I was out in the parking lot last night.
Bobby Funke: What were you doing at the parking lot?
Her: I was probably getting fingered by Dutch Middleton.
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My question — what exactly has he fingered?
I mean, he says … that’s where I was … last night? And still foul fingers? Isn’t that a twelve-hour thing?
I don’t know, man. This whole thing looks (and smells) fishy.
Important note: Dig deeper.
(That’s a note to myself.)
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| Forrest: | Hello, my name is Forrest, Forrest Gump! |
| Bus driver: | Nobody gives a hunk a shit who you are, fuzzball! You're not even a lowlife scum sucking maggot! Get your faggoty ass on the bus. You're in the Army now! |
| Duke: | [voice-over] How long could we maintain, I wondered. How long before one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family. Would he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so -- well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere. Because it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency, and they'll run us down like dogs... |
| Duke: | [out loud to himself] Jesus! Did I say that? |
| Duke: | [voice-over] Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? |
| Jimmy: | I got enough cologne on? |
| Christopher: | You smell like Paco Rabanne crawled up your ass and died in there. |
| Brüno: | So you were never gay? It's ironic that you should have amazing blow job lips. |
| Man: | These lips were made to praise Jesus. |
Peter (Ron Livingston) in Mike Judge’s Office Space. He’s talking to his hypnotherapist, Dr. Swanson, who’s gonna help him to slip deeper and deeper into a state of complete relaxation, a state where his worries, cares, and ambitions will be gone. And he succeeds. After this session … Peter doesn’t really give a fuck about work. And the fun starts. Instantly, a consultant sees his true potential, telling his boss: “I had a chance to meet this young man, and — boy! — does he have Straight to Upper Management written all over him.”
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