| Oh, the usual. I bowl. Drive around. The occasional acid flashback. |
| That's a great plan, Walter. That's fuckin' ingenious, if I understand it correctly. It's a Swiss fuckin' watch! |
| Fuck sympathy! I don't need your fuckin' sympathy, man, I need my fucking johnson! |
| Thank you, Donny. |
| God damn you Walter! You fuckin' asshole! Everything's a fuckin' travesty with you, man! And what was all that shit about Vietnam? What the FUCK, has anything got to do with Vietnam? What the fuck are you talking about? |
| Will you come off it, Walter? You're not even fucking Jewish, man. |
| It's all a part of your sick Cynthia thing, man. Taking care of her fucking dog. Going to her fucking synagogue. You're living in the fucking past. |
| Racially he's pretty cool? |
| Obviously you're not a golfer. |
| She's not my special lady, she's my fucking lady friend. I'm just helping her conceive. |
| Where's the fucking money Lebowski? |
| That rug really tied the room together. |
| Who the fuck are the Knutsens? |
| Dude. The bag man, man. Where do you want us to go? |
| Hey, careful, man, there's a beverage here! |
| Mind if I do a J? |
| You brought the fuckin' Pomeranian bowling? |
| Man, if my fuckin' ex-wife asked me to take care of her fuckin' dog while she and her boyfriend went to Honolulu I'd tell her to go fuck herself. |
| No, I'm saying, if he knows I'm a fuck-up, why does he leave me in charge of getting his wife back? Because he doesn't fucking want her back! He no longer digs her, it's all a show! Ok, so then why doesn't he give a shit about his million bucks? I mean, he knows we never handed off the briefcase, but he never asked for it back. The million bucks was never in the briefcase! The asshole was hoping that they would kill her! You threw out a ringer for a ringer! |
| Jesus, man, could you change the channel? ... Come on, man. I had a rough night and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man! |
| Did you ever hear of "The Seattle Seven"?... That was me... and six other guys. |
| Fortunately, I'm adhering to a pretty strict, uh, drug, uh, regimen to keep my mind, you know, uh, limber. |
| Well, I still jerk off manually. |
| I'll tell you what I'm blathering about... I've got information man! New shit has come to light! And shit... man, she kidnapped herself. Well sure, man. Look at it... a young trophy wife, in the parlance of our times, you know, and she, uh, uh, owes money all over town, including to known pornographers, and that's cool... that's, that's cool, I'm, I'm saying, she needs money, man. And of course they're going to say that they didn't get it, because... she wants more, man! She's got to feed the monkey, I mean uh... hasn't that ever occurred to you, man? Sir? |
| My only hope is that the big Lebowski kills me before the Germans can cut my dick off. |
| At least I'm housebroken. |
| I'm sorry your stepmother is a nympho. |
| Walter, I love you, but sooner or later, you're going to have to realize the fact that you're a god damn moron. |
| I could be just sitting at home with pee stains on my rug. |
| What the fuck does Vietnam have to do with anything? |
| Okay. The old man told me to take any rug in the house. |
| Your money is being held by a kid named Larry Sellers. Real fucking brat, but I'm sure your goons can get it off him. I mean, he's fifteen. ...Flunking social studies. |
| Ow! Fucking fascist! |
| This is a private residence, man! |
| Ah, no that was the chief of police of Malibu. A real reactionary. |
| You mean, did you personally come and pee on my rug? |
