Sam: You don’t like raisins?
Joon: Not really.
Joon: They used to be fat and juicy, and now they’re twisted. They had their lives stolen. Well, they taste sweet, but really they’re just humiliated grapes.
Bobby: Oh! Spoons! Can I assume the potatoes will be mashed tonight?
I put instant coffee in a microwave oven and almost went back in time.
Ron Burgundy: You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole wheel of cheese? How’d you do that? Heck, I’m not even mad, that’s amazing!
Spike: There’s something wrong with this yogurt.
William: It’s mayonnaise.
Gekko: Lunch is for wimps.
Mal: Okay, help me find our man. He’s supposed to be older, kind of stocky, wears a red sash crossways.
Kaylee: Why does he do that?
Mal: Maybe he won the Miss Persephone pageant. Just help me look.
Kaylee: Is that him?
Mal: That’s the buffet table.
Kaylee: Well, how can we be sure, unless we question it?
Mal: Fine. Don’t make yourself sick.
Rebecca: You know, I really think I can put together a great Thanksgiving dinner. This’ll be the second one that I’ve cooked, and believe me, the first one was not the disaster that my family said it was. Those kids had a pretty good time in that ambulance.
Rizzo the Rat: Mother always taught me: never eat singing food.
Charlie Brown: I can’t cook a Thanksgiving dinner. All I can make is cold cereal and maybe toast.
Linus van Pelt: That’s right. I’ve seen you make toast. You can’t butter it, but maybe we can help you.
Peppermint Patty: What kind of Thanksgiving dinner is this? Where’s the turkey, Chuck? Don’t you know anything about Thanksgiving dinners? Where’s the mashed potatoes? Where’s the cranberry sauce? Where’s the pumpkin pie?
Marcie: Don’t feel bad, Chuck. Peppermint Patty didn’t mean all those things she said. Actually, she really likes you.
Charlie Brown: I don’t feel bad for myself, I just feel bad because I’ve ruined everyone’s Thanksgiving.
Marcie: But Thanksgiving is more than eating, Chuck. You heard what Linus was saying out there. Those early Pilgrims were thankful for what had happened to them, and we should be thankful, too. We should just be thankful for being together. I think that’s what they mean by ‘Thanksgiving,’ Charlie Brown.
Dr. Hathaway: What’s that smell?
Chris: Must be the dog.
Dr. Hathaway: That’s popcorn.
Chris: Yes sir, I know.
Dr. Hathaway: Get it away from me, I can’t stand popcorn, I hate popcorn.
Chris: Good, now I know what to get you for your birthday.
There is no argument anywhere that alcohol makes us healthier. Plus, you have a drink, then your drink has a drink, and soon, you’re face first in a pile of french fries with cheese sauce.
Jenny Myer: Fronch dressing. Fronch fries. Fronch bread. And to drink….Peru!
All the things I really like to do are either immoral, illegal, or fattening.
Uncle Bub: Did you know that I invented the peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
Timothy Green: Did you know that I’m a big fan of your work?
Louise: Turns out dad has been putting murdered cows in our hamburgers.
Gene: Let’s release the lobster back into the supermarket from whence it came.
Austin Powers: Jimi Hendrix deceased, drugs. Janis Joplin deceased, alcohol. Mama Cass deceased, ham sandwich.
I remember wondering why it was that eating something good could make me feel so terrible, while vomiting something terrible could make me feel so good.
Rhoda Morgenstern: I don’t know why I should even bother to eat this. I should just apply it directly to my hips.
Mary Richards: Oh Rhoda, chocolate doesn’t solve anything.
Rhoda Morgenstern: No Mare, cottage cheese solves nothing; chocolate can do it all!
Rhoda Morgenstern Gerard: My name is Rhoda Morgenstern. I was born in the Bronx, New York in December, 1941. I’ve always felt responsible for World War II. The first thing I remember liking that liked me back was food. I had a bad puberty; it lasted 17 years. I’m a high school graduate. I went to art school. My entrance exam was on a book of matches. I decided to move out of the house when I was 24; my mother still refers to this as the time I ran away from home. Eventually I ran to Minneapolis, where it’s cold, and I figured I’d keep better. Now I’m back in Manhattan. New York, this is your last chance!
I think I prefer fish, said Gaynor.
Kiri explained that she was wrong and that she preferred chicken to fish. Westerners, he explained, preferred chicken. It was well known. Fish was only cheap food for peasants. We would be eating chicken, which was sexy and which we preferred.
Dwight: Actually, I do own property. My grandfather left me a 60-acre working beet farm. I run it with my cousin Mose. We sell beets to the local stores and restaurants. It’s a nice little farm… sometimes teenagers use it for sex.
Rose: Old man, you give those dogs another piece of my food and I’m gonna kick you ’til you’re dead!
Nobody had ever said that to Bertie before. How about some chocolate? It was not a complex, phrase, but its power, its sheer, overwhelming sense of gift and possibility filled Bertie with awe. Well might more of us say these words to others, and more frequently – how healing would that prove to be. “Look, we’ve had our differences, but how about some chocolate?” Or: “I’m so sorry, how about some chocolate?” Or simply: “Great to see you! How about some chocolate?”
After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.