J.P.: Go suck a bug.
Chris Thorne: Thanks for the espresso maker... and the bag of shit.
Fausto: Where are we going?
Chris Thorne: We're going to Atlantic City, Fausto. Get in the trunk.
J.P.: If it was an ambulance you got a chance, if it's in a hearse, it's gotta be worse.
Chris Thorne: They're Brazillionaires, they have breakfast at 2pm in the afternoon.
Chris Thorne: Fun is actually knowing who half your guests are.
Fausto: You've got a BMW. Act like it.
Fausto: You people are sick, wicked, funky, misanthropic, co-dependent animals! And I won't have my sister, who was once the Queen of the Mardi Gras, sitting at a table with a pickle-shooting train.
