Josh: Hey, James Bond, in America we drive on the right side of the road.
Cher: I am. You try driving in platforms.
Mel: What the hell is that?
Cher: A dress.
Mel: Says who?
Cher: Calvin Klein.
Cher: Searching for a boy in high school is like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.
Mel: Anything happens to my daughter, I got a .45 and a shovel, I doubt anybody would miss you.
Cher: D, would you call me selfish?
Dionne: No, not to your face.
Cher: This is a second notice for outstanding parking tickets. I don’t remember getting a first notice.
Mel: The ticket is the first notice!
Cher: If it’s a concussion, you have to keep her conscious, okay? Ask her questions.
Elton: What’s seven times seven?
Cher: Stuff she knows!
Murray: Your friend Christian is a cakeboy!
Cher: A what?
Murray: He’s a disco-dancin’, Oscar Wilde readin’, Streisand ticket holdin’ friend of Dorothy. You know what I’m saying.
Cher: Nu-uh. No way.
Murray: He’s gay!
Dionne: He does like to shop Cher, and the boy can dress.
Tai: What am I listening to you for anyway? You’re a virgin who can’t drive.
Josh: You know, if I ever saw you do something that wasn’t ninety percent selfish, I’d die of shock.
Cher: Oh, that’d be reason enough for me.
Cher: I had an overwhelming sense of ickiness.
Cher: Hey, granola breath! You’ve got something on your chin.
Josh: I’m growing a goatee.
Cher: Hmmm. You don’t want to be the last one at the coffeehouse without chin pubes.
Cher: It’s like that book I read in the 9th grade that said “’tis a far far better thing doing stuff for other people.”
Cher: Believe it or not, the evil trolls in the Math department were actually married. Oohhh, Snickers! And in the grand tradition of PE teachers, Ms. Stoger seemed to be same-sex oriented.
Cher: So okay, I don’t want to be a traitor to my generation and all but I don’t get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair – ew – and cover it up with a backwards cap and we’re supposed to swoon? I don’t think so!
Cher: Lucy, you know I don’t speak Mexican!
Lucy: I ah not a Mexican!
Mel: Don’t tell me those brain-dead lowlifes are calling me again.
Cher: They are your parents.
Mr. Hall: Could all conversation please come to a halt? And could the the suicide attempts wait until next period?
Cher: Isn’t my house classic? The columns date all the way back to 1972.
Mr. Hall: Cher, two tardies.
Cher: I object! Do you recall the dates of these alleged tardies?
Mr. Hall: One was last Monday.
Cher: Mr. Hall, I was surfing the crimson wave. I had to haul ass to the Ladies.
Cher: He does dress better than I do. What would I bring to the relationship?
Dionne: Phat! Did you write that?
Cher: Duh, it’s like a famous quote.
Dionne: From where?
Cher: Cliff’s Notes.
Mel: Do you know what time it is?
Cher: A watch doesn’t really go with this outfit, daddy.
Cher: So like, right now for example. The Haitians need to come to America. But some people are all, “What about the strain on our resources?” Well it’s like when I had this garden party for my father’s birthday. I put R.S.V.P. ’cause it was a sit-down dinner. But some people came that like did not R.S.V.P. I was totally buggin’. I had to haul ass to the kitchen, redistribute the food, and squish in extra place settings. But by the end of the day it was, like, the more the merrier. And so if the government could just get to the kitchen and rearrange some things we could certainly party with the Haitians. And in conclusion may I please remind you it does not say R.S.V.P. on the Statue of Liberty! Thank you very much.
Mel: What’s with you, kid? You think the death of Sammy Davis left an opening in the Rat Pack?