Harper Stewart: Hey, is your pops still trying to groom you for the hotel management business? Quentin: Yeah, for the last 20 years? I'm just not trying to hear all that stuff, you know? Dealing with complaining-a guests, unions, and payrolls, and all that... Harper Stewart: Yeah, too much like a real job, huh? Quentin: You know what, nigga? Fuck you. You're my judge, right? That's your job. You judge me. Harper Stewart: No, I'm just playing, man... Quentin: No, nigga, you... it's just amazing how you've always analyzed everybody else's shit and then you don't do the same thing for your own self. Harper Stewart: Will you chill? Quentin: No, because you've done dirt too, motherfucker, and you're doing more dirt! That's right. You're fucking Jordan tonight, remember? Jordan. See, you ain't any better than the rest of us, got it? Your shit just ain't caught you yet.
[at Bloomingdale's] Jonathan: Happy anniversary. Sara: When did you get to be so unimaginably romantic? Jonathan: I think that it's good luck that we return this year to the scene of the crime. [pours a paper cup of champagne] Jonathan: Cheers. Sara: Cheers. Bloomingdale's Salesman: Oh, I don't think so, no beverages on the premises, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Jonathan: Hey, how are you doing? Don't you remember me? Bloomingdale's Salesman: Yes I do. Jonathan: This is her, This is the girl! Bloomingdale's Salesman: Ms. Carbon-copy. Jonathan: Yes. Bloomingdale's Salesman: I see. Jonathan: This is the guy who helped me find you! Sara: Oh, hi! Bloomingdale's Salesman: If you're not going to purchase anything, please make room for paying customers. Jonathan: We do, we want some gloves, some cashmere gloves. [closing bell rings] Bloomingdale's Salesman: Oh, I'm sorry, that would be the closing bell. Perhaps tomorrow... Sara: You're not serious... Bloomingdale's Salesman: Store hours 10 to 7 except Sundays and holidays. Jonathan: He warms up... Bloomingdale's Salesman: At the discretion of management or with the possible visit of dignitaries... [Sara goes behind the counter] Bloomingdale's Salesman: No, no, no, no, please, on the other side of the counter! You cannot come back here, this is for authorized personnel only, please stay on your side of the counter, thank you very much!
Hancock: [reading prepared text] I apologize to the people of Los Angeles. My behavior has been improper and I accept the consequences. I ask my fellow Angelinos for their patience and understanding. Life here can be difficult for me. After all, I am the only one of my kind. During my incarceration, I will be participating in alcohol and anger management treatment. You deserve better from me. I can be better. I will be better.
Seth MacFarlane: I'm Seth MacFarlane, Associate Production Coordinating Directorial Associate Managing Departmental Divisional Office Supervisor of the International Network Amalgamation Distributing Corporation Management Organisational Association of Men Who Like Pussy.
Linda, Anger Management Therapist: Mr. Boyd, I believe that you were sent to us because of work related stress, aggression towards authority figures, and an all-round lack of discipline. Orin Boyd: I'm fine. You can move on. Other people want to say something.
A.J.: Excuse me, Mr. President, I just got off the phone with the federal mediator in St. Louis. Management just walked away from the table; the baggage handlers, pilots and flight attendants are all getting set to walk out in forty-eight hours. President Andrew Shepherd: You know, I studied under a Nobel Prize-winning economist, and you know what he taught me? A.J.: Never have an airline strike at Christmas?
Pippin: I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon. Merry: [through a mouthful of food] Mm. Green Dragon. Pippin: A mug of ale in my hand, putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work. Merry: Only, you've never done a hard day's work. [They laugh; Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli ride up. Merry stands and gives an exaggerated bow] Merry: Welcome, my lords, to Isengard! Gimli: You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you... feasting and... and *smoking.* Pippin: We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts. [Merry blows a smoke ring] Pippin: The salted pork is particularly good. Gimli: [eagerly] Salted pork? Gandalf: [exasperated] Hobbits. Merry: We're under orders from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard. Treebeard: [as they walk toward the tower] Hroom, young master Gandalf! I'm relieved that you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to manage here. Locked his tower.
Linda, Anger Management Therapist: Mr. Boyd, denial is a classic symptom of unhealthy rage. Okay? So why don't you just stand up, and tell us a bit about yourself. Mr. Boyd. Mr. Boyd, please. Orin Boyd: I'd like to make something very clear: I don't have rage. I'm a happy guy. You see this face? This is a happy face. You'll be lucky to be as happy as I am.
Colonel Moon: That'll teach you to lecture me. Get me another anger management therapist.
[Orin is leaving the Anger Management class and sees some punks trying to pick the lock on his truck] Orin Boyd: What am I, a shit magnet?
Naomi: Like that bitch needs to be eating dessert anyway. Bishop: Naomi... You know, if you ever want counseling in anger management or... alcoholism, I'd be more than glad to do it for you. Naomi: You'd do that for me? Thank you, I appreciate that. But I think I'd rather you just wash the fucking dishes and and shut the fuck up! Fucking psychobabble-bullshit asshole!
Gabriel: To the best of our knowledge no one, from either above or below, had any hand in the creation of this child. Lucifer: Even I have to admit I wouldn't have taken such a chance in these times. The world is teetering on total chaos. Servius Augustus Cyriacus: Sounds like that would be right up your alley. Lucifer: Hey, I may want management privileges someday, but I still want it in one piece.
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