Claire: Where are you going?
Robert: Looks like I'm going nowhere.
Claire: Don't you fucking quote Star Wars at me.
Mark: You're losing it. A year ago you'd already be re-enacting the kitchen scene from "9 1/2 Weeks." 'Course, my own sex life's more like 8 1/2 Weeks - Fellini meets Psycho. Scary.
Dan: Maybe she's like Catherine Tremell in "Basic Instinct", you know? One day she's just going to plunge an ice pick into his nose.
Mark: He'd probably enjoy that. Killed by a naked blonde who doesn't wear underwear to the strains of a Jerry Goldsmith score. Come to think of it, I'd sort of dig that myself.
Young Mark: So you're saying I should engage my advanced-for-a-twelve-year-old intellect and use logic?
Imaginary William Shatner: Logic is the other guy's schtick, but yes.
Imaginary William Shatner: I'm not really here. I'm one of the top ten imaginary friends kids have. Just behind John Travolta, Reggie Jackson, and Farrah Fawcett-Majors.
Robert: Joy unto you, peace and serenity, you are not of the body, would you calm the fuck down already?
