I have a drinking problem? Fuck you, Peck! You're a Mormon! Next to you, we all have a drinking problem!
I know who you are, fucker!
[on the phone] I'm sorry, I don't know the number to, uh, my savings account because, believe it or not, I don't spend my entire day sitting around trying to memorize the fucking numbers to my fucking bank accounts! MORON!
Osbourne: You're lactose intolerant? Or you have acid reflux? They're two different things.
Harry: I know what they are.
Osbourne: Then you misspoke.
Harry: [sarcastic] Well thank you for correcting me.
Katie: [walking up] Try the chevre, Harry, it's very good.
Harry: Oh, yeah, I can eat goat cheese.
Chad: Throw it out?!
Linda: You can't do that! You should put a note up in the ladies' locker room.
Chad: Put a note up? "Highly classified shit found, Signals Intelligence shit, CIA shit? Hello? Did you lose your secret CIA shit?" I don't think so.
Katie: What is going on?
Osbourne: Some clown—a couple of clowns got a hold of my memoirs.
Katie: Your what?
Osbourne: Stole it or... I have no idea how they—
Katie: Your what?
Osbourne: My memoirs... the book I'm writing.
Katie: Why in God's name would they think that's worth anything?!
Harry: [Leading Linda downstairs] Yeah, I tell ya. I saw an ad for this in a gentlemen's magazine. Twelve hundred bucks, TWELVE HUNDRED BUCKS. I'm lookin' at this thing and I think, "You gotta be kiddin' me." I'm a hobbyist. Thing's basically nothing but speed rails. I figure I'd go down to Home Depot and whip this up myself for... a hundred bucks. [Pulls the tarp off the machine]
Linda:...What is it?
Harry: What is it?? [Points to the chair] You sit down there, make yourself comfortable, put your feet in the stirrups, and...
[Harry pushes the chair back, and when it comes forward, a dildo pushes up through a hole in the seat of the chair. The chair continues to rock back and forth, with the dildo going up and down]
Linda: Oh my God!...[Hushed voice] THAT'S FANTASTIC.
Harry: Something, isn't it? Hundred bucks, all in; not counting the labor and...the cost of the dildo -those things aren't cheap- See, I like to...I'm not set up to mold hard rubber.
Linda: Where's the money?
Chad: He hit me.
Linda: Where's the money?!
Chad: [Pause] He didn't give it to me.
CIA Supervisor: Jesus Fucking Christ. What did we learn, Palmer?
Palmer: I don't know sir.
CIA Supervisor: I don't fucking know either. I guess we learned not to do it again. I'm fucked if I know what we did.