[Talking about the coin he used to flip at the Super Bowl] It's really a commemorative coin.
I am not a bus driver! I do not work for the bus company! All right?! I--I needed a ride to New Mexico, so I stole this uniform! See this jacket? This is not my jacket! Remember Marty, the bus driver? Huh?! This is his shirt! I stole it! And these pants, you think I'd wear these pants?! These aren't my pants! These are Marty's pants! I stole them! I am not...a bus driver!
Excuse me. Thank you all for coming. I'm Donald Sinclair, I own this hotel. We don't have much time. There's a meteor the size of North Carolina heading straight for Earth. The impact is going to kill every thing and everyone on this planet. I built a bunker in the basement to this casino strong enough to withstand the blast. There's room enough for eight people. I have chosen the seven of you, plus me. When this is over, it'll be up to us to repopulate and re-civilize the planet. [Everyone looks shocked for about five seconds, before Sinclair begins laughing hysterically] I couldn't resist! I'm sorry.
[to Owen] I can do anything I like, Owen. I'm eccentric! [growls like a tiger] Go!
Theoretically, you have been racing for about 40 seconds now, and so far, Mr. Schaefer is winning, because he's nearest to the door!
Employee: 2:00 "Afro Whores", 3:30 "Afro Whores", 5:00 "Afro Whores"... It says in the morning you watched "The Grinch" for ten minutes, then switched back over to "Afro Whores".
Nick Schaffer: I swear I didn't watch it. Okay? I was at a bachelor party. There were 35 people there. You can ask any of them. You have to take that off my record.
Hotel Clerk: It's not a record, sir.
Nick Schaffer: It... It's a delete.
Hotel Clerk: Okay, fine. How many times did you watch it?
Nick Schaffer: Uh, none! I didn't watch it!
Hotel Clerk: Are you sure? "Sizzling, three-way, backdoor action featuring two sexy soul sisters...”
Nick Schaffer: [screaming] No, I don't need to know what it's about! I did not watch it! [hotel clerk raises her eyebrows] I didn't.
[Duane and Blaine Cody walk up to the top of a flight of stairs, Duane places a glass on the ground.]
Duane Cody: Okay, see that shot glass? Walk across the lobby, slip on the glass, let gravity do the rest.
Shane Cody: I-ight 'eak y eck!
Duane Cody: It's true, you could break your neck, but it's a risk I'm willing to take.
Shane Cody: Hy ont u oo it?
Duane Cody: Because, Einstein, one of us needs to be the victim and one of us needs to be the witness! What kind of witness would you make? I'm your own brother, I don't know what the hell you're saying. How's your tongue, let me see.
[Shane opens his mouth, showing a blackened tongue with a stud in it, Duane cringes.]
Shane Cody: Ows it ook?
Duane Cody: ...It looks good, getting better.
Randy Pear: [Seeing Shane's infected tongue] Oh my god! You ought to sue somebody!
Shane Cody: Ay id it y-elf!
Rande Pear: What?
Duane Cody: He said he did it himself. Sent away for a kit.
Donald Sinclair: [after explaining the game] ...And, that's it...GO.
Owen: Y-You can't just pick people at random!
Donald Sinclair: I can do anything I like, Owen! I'm eccentric! [Growls] GO!
Randy Pear: Wait. So, it's like a race? [Sinclair points to him with an "Ah-ha!" expression]
Enrico Pollini: A race! It's a race! I hope I win!
Duane Cody: Uh, what are the rules?
Donald Sinclair: There's only one rule. Are you ready? Here it is: There are NO RULES, GO! [Nobody moves] GO!!
Merrill: So, when you say "go", you mean, just go?
Donald Sinclair: Uh, begin, commence, start moving... theoretically you have been racing for about forty-five seconds now, and so far Mr. Schaffer is winning because he's nearest to the door.
[Nobody moves. Sinclair finally sighs in frustration and pulls out a pistol, firing it into the ceiling.]
Kimberly Pear: Dad, I'm prairie dogging!
Randy Pear: What the hell does that mean?
Jason Pear: You know, like when a prairie dog sticks his head in and out of the ground.
Randy Pear: Oh. [pause] Oh, God, I do not wanna picture that!
Randy Pear: You're playing Hitler's harmonica!
Jason Pear: Well, you're driving his car.
Randy Pear: Yeah, but I'm not touching it with my mouth! I'm not suckin' on the dashboard! I'm not getting his germs!
Vicki: So, what can I do for you, Harry?
Harold Grisham: Okay... here's what I want. First... we both get naked.
Vicki: So far so good.
Harold Grisham: Except... we're both wearing sailor hats. Then we get into a jacuzzi filled with Pepto-Bismol, I clip your toenails, and you shave my buttocks.