T.S. Quint: How much did you smoke?
Jay: All it took was a phat, chronic blunt. These guys were lightweights.
T.S. Quint: How much do I owe you?
Jay: My treat. As long as you promise that the next time you pop your old lady, you make her call you "Jay." Snootchie Bootchies.
T.S. Quint: Let's hope there is a next time.
T.S. Quint: You should see yourself right now - a grown man with his hand down his pants.
Brodie: Yeah, I probably look like my old man.
T.S. Quint: Maybe he's calmed down, we'll talk about it reasonably.
Brodie: Reasonably shmeasonably, you should go over there and give him shit.
Shannon Hamilton: You wanna say something?
Brodie: Yeah. About a million things, but I can't express myself monosyllabically enough for you to understand 'em all.
Shannon Hamilton: You're sure you saw her get on?
T.S. Quint: Maybe she was getting off.
Brodie: Say, would you like a chocolate covered pretzel? They're a little melty but damn are they exquisite.
Gwen: Why are you glowing?
Brodie: I'm not glowing.
Ivannah: It's the third nipple that does it.
T.S. Quint: Oh, you have a third nipple? I didn't notice.
Brodie: What are you talking about? It's as clear as day! Look at it for god's sake.
Ivannah: You can stare at it. I don't mind.
Brodie: Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn for Sega.
Brodie: You're giving up? You? You used to be stand-up guy, what happened to him? The guy who punched Amanda Gross' mother after she called him "low class."
T.S. Quint: That wasn't me. It was you.
Brodie: Oh, yeah.
T.S. Quint: And it wasn't her mother, it was her grandmother.
Brodie: No wonder the bitch went down so fast.
Jay: Bye baby kitties. Damn Silent Bob, show some heart.
Brodie: Listen, not a year goes by, not a year, that I don't hear about some escalator accident involving some bastard kid which could have easily been avoided had some parent - I don't care which one - but some parent conditioned him to fear and respect that escalator.