Mrs. Doubtfire

Mrs. Doubtfire: My first day as a woman and I'm getting hot flashes.

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Mrs. Doubtfire: I hope you don't mind me being a tad rude, but... How was he? You know, on a scale of 1 to 10?
Miranda: Well, that part was always... Okay.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Just okay? Well, he was probably a Casanova compared to poor old Winston.
Miranda: What was the matter with Winston?
Mrs. Doubtfire: Oh dear, Winston's idea of foreplay was "Effie, brace yourself."

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Daniel: I got off early.
Lydie: You mean you got fired?
Daniel: No, I quit. For reasons of conscience.

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Daniel: Well, let's take a little vacation together with the kids, as a family - get you away from work. You're a different person. You really are. You're great.
Miranda: Oh, Daniel, our problems would be waiting for us right here when we got back.
Daniel: Well, we'll move, and maybe our problems won't follow us.
Miranda: Daniel, please don't joke.
Daniel: OK.
Miranda: Yeah. It's just that we've grown apart. We're different. We have nothing in common.
Daniel: Sure we do. We love each other. Come on, Miranda, we love each other... Don't we?
Miranda: I want a divorce.

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Daniel: Did you ever wish you could sometimes freeze frame a moment in your day, look at it and say "this is not my life"?

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Chris: You don't really like wearin' that stuff, do you, Dad?
Daniel: Well, some of it's comfortable. No! It's a pain in the padded ass!

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Miranda: Hello, are you calling in response to the ad?
Daniel: Uh-huh
Miranda: Tell me, who was your previous employer?
Daniel: I was in a band, 'Severe Tire Damage'.
Miranda: In a band?
Daniel: I just want to know one thing. Are your kids well-behaved? Or do they need like, a few light slams every now and then?
Miranda: Umm, I'll have to get back to you.

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Bus Driver: [after noticing Mrs. Doubtfire has hairy legs.] I like that Mediterranean look in women. Natural, healthy. Just the way God made you.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Well, He broke the mold when He made me. He made me very special.
Bus Driver: He sure did.

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Miranda: What happened?
Mrs. Doubtfire: He was quite fond of the drink. It was the drink that killed him.
Miranda: How awful. He was an alcoholic?
Mrs. Doubtfire: No, he was hit by a Guinness truck.

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