Now, the only problem is that she wants to see me out with my imaginary girlfriend. I'm done for.
Nah, not necessarily. Situations like this, this is why God invented whores.
All S1
S1 E15Unfinished Business
What, are you drinking all day now?
JSJohn Sr.
I'm 82. I'm retired, and I'm married to a new and much younger woman who's not only rich but likes to bang my brains out at least 3 times a week. So I'm not drinking kid. I'm in a perpetual toast.
[on the phone] Hey, you backstabbin' son of a bitch.
Oh, hey, Tom.
You're supposed to be my brother, asshole.
I am your brother. I was just tryin' to do you a favor.
By helpin' Janet take my kids again? That's supposed to be doin' me a favor? How's that work?
Tommy, if you would just listen to her.
You know what, Johnny? You're dead to me. You're dead to me. You got that?
I don't wanna go to court.
You try takin' these kids away from me again--
I don't wanna take them again. You know this whole thing? I didn't get angry, I got sad. My whole head went back to when we first met... Our wedding, how funny you were, Colleen being born. Those Beatles songs that you used to sing to her to make her fall asleep. Those sweet little horse-clown pictures that you used to draw for Katy. (Janet starts crying) You know Tommy, I couldn't even move for almost a day, and then I couldn't stop crying. I need my kids. But at least three or four times a day when I had them Connor and Katy would look at me and ask where you were. "Is Daddy coming for the weekend?" "Is Daddy coming for Christmas." "Where's Daddy now?" "Is Daddy dead, you would tell us if Daddy died, right mom?" I was in a hospital for a couple of weeks. But I uh got some counseling. And I got back up on my feet. The thing is while I was there, I got my head straightened out enough that I got a little perspective. I think for the sake of the kids, and from what we used to be like, before Jimmy died. I think we oughta give it one last go.
One last go? That's a hell of a way to jump start a relationship.
Until death do us part, right?
Right.
[after a river rescue] Oh, Jesus, my skin smells like it's rotting.
Yeah, why don't you bottle that and call it "essence of ass."
[They are outside the Chief's house at his party, looking inside at all the gay guys]
Probie, get in there and get us some booze.
Why me?
Because you can probably slip under the gaydar.
Me? What about Sean?
If we were to have the gayest lookin' guy in the crew contest, you win, hands down.
Or pants down as the case may be.
What does that mean? He has better hair than me? Better body? Better what?
You're really not asking me that question right now are ya?
[Sean is a little drunk]
Hey, man, straighten up. There two hot chicks in a party full of gay guys. It's like catching fish in a barrel.
[pauses] It's shooting fish.
What?
It's shooting fish in a barrel. That's the expression, you dumbass.
Yeah but if they're in the barrel, why would you shoot 'em? Why wouldn't you just reach in with your hands and pull one out?
[about Janet] She's either the world's greatest actress or she's on drugs.
What I can't be funny?
Not to her. Not in years. Unless of course it's a brain tumor. But you wanna know somethin' with all the shit that's gone down between the two of ya in the last five years let alone for her to be laughin' at your jokes, it's gotta be a tumor the size of a goddamn grapefruit.
I don't think it's a tumor, okay?
Well, then we have option number three.
Which is what?
Goof balls.
Goof balls?
Pills. They have pills for everything now. Stop smoking, pay attention, blah blah blah. I bet my right nut that she's one of those brand new, I hate my husband, I hate my life, my vagina hurts, please just take it all away that kinda thing. Take two a day and not only is your asshole husband funny but you might wanna bang his lying, deceitful, cheatin' little brains out. No offense, Tommy.
None taken.
It's not a thingy, Sean! It's a step. And you're supposed to make amends for your own personal bullshit not mine! Tellin' Laura I was bangin' the nurse, that's one thing. Tellin' the whole crew that I was bangin' Laura, Sean, that's like a whole new level of retardation. That is like the special Olympics of substance abuse.
Well, I was drunk.
[Franco wants to write Laura a poem] No, no, listen to me, listen to me. I don't care who we're talkin' about-- young chick, old chick, in-between chick, Cindy Crawford on her best damn day-- they all think their ass is fat, okay? We love the ass. We all think the ass is like a festival of fun. It's a place to go, chock-full of stuff we can to do, but to them, the ass is death. Gravity and death and hard goddamn times. Stay away from the ass, okay? Go with the tits. Tits, eyelashes, eyes. All right? That's it. [Lou looks at him] What?
You write a poem about tits, she's gonna rip it up and shove it down your throat. Chicks wanna hear about emotions, they wanna hear about remorse, they wanna hear I'm sorry's up the goddamn ying-yang.
So you write a poem that says I'm sorry, blah blah blah. I regret bing bang boom. And then you throw in a "Hey, I like your nice beautiful tits." [Lou stares at him] What?
Emotions.
Tits.
Remorse.
Melons.
I'm sorry.
Gazungas.
I love you.
Double peaches of pleasure.
Around here, we got the probie, he controls all the homo retard crap, okay? Garrity covers all the stupid retard bullshit. Franco is our pussy man. You control all the drinkin' and the fire hero worship crap. Poetry is my territory, you're musclin' in on my turf.
You need to take some kinda chill pill because you're very upset--
Lemme ask you somethin' else. Where were the tits?
Where were the tits?
All week long in the poem! [mocking him] It's gotta have tits. Gotta love tits. It needs tits, it needs tits. 14 goddamn lines, not one tit.
It was implied.
Oh, it was implied?
Yes, in subtext.
It was subtext. Subtext, my ass. What are you Walt goddamn Whitman all of a sudden? The Tommy Gavin I know would never write that poem. The Tommy Gavin I know would never write that poem to seduce his own piece of ass let alone his buddy's. You wanna know something? This, the fall you just took, the dancing, the singing, the cleaning, the la-la-la, what the hell are you on?
Hey, maybe I can help.
Yeah, and I can grow a vagina.
You call up and you tell them what kind of service you want, what kind of hours you need and they send over a bunch of nurses.
I only need one.
I know, but that's like the fun of it. They send over a bunch and you choose one. It's like American Idol, you know, except it's nurses instead of singers, and you don't get to call up and vote to see who wins, and Paula Abdul's not there acting like a freak show. Actually it's not like American Idol at all.
[to Tommy, on the way to donate blood] You might wanna pick up someone else's blood on the way. Yours is probably still flammable.
[After they donated blood] I just feel really light headed. You don't have anymore juice, do ya?
You almost fell getting off the table, you pussy.
I got up too fast, okay? And you should watch your language in front of the house of God. Back me up on that.
FMFather Murphy
He's right.
Sorry.
Yeah, asshole.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Rescue Me pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.