Rebecca: You should check out the personals. Maybe our future husbands are trying to contact us.
Enid: Here we go. "Windsurfing doctor, Mensan IQ, maverick Sagittarius. Let's hit the clubs, make each other laugh."
Rebecca: You can have that one.
Enid: Jesus, listen to this one. "Do you remember me, airport shuttle, June 7? You, striking blond with yellow dress, pearl necklace, brown shoes. I was the bookish fellow in the green cardigan who helped you find your contact lens. Am I crazy, or did we have a moment?"
Rebecca: God, that's so pathetic. I mean, she probably didn't even notice him.
Enid: I know, and he's, like, psychotically obsessing over every little detail.
Rebecca: We should call him and pretend to be the blond.
Enid: Oh, we totally have to.
Rebecca: Oh, it's that comedian I was telling you about. [turns up the volume on her television, which is showing an odd-looking man performing stand-up comedy]
Joey McCobb: [on the TV] ...I still live with my mother people think I'm peculiar.
Rebecca: He's the absolute worst.
Joey McCobb: So what if she's been dead for fifteen years?
Rebecca: See? That's barely even a joke.
Joey McCobb: Well, it's like I always say—take my life... please.
TV announcer: Joey McCobb, the weirdest man in show business.
Enid: If he's so weird, how come he's wearing Nikes? [switches the TV off] Joey McCobb is our god.
Rebecca: I want to do him.
Enid: I bet. Actually, he kind of reminds me of that one guy you went out with, Larry. God, what look was he going for, a gay tennis player from the '40s?
Rebecca: Fuck you.
Enid: You dated him.
Sidewinder boss: Hey! Hey, you! How many times I tell you? No shirt, no service! Get the hell out of my store! What do you think this is, Club Med?
Doug: It's America, dude. Learn the rules.
Sidewinder boss: Learn the rules? No, you learn the rules! We Greeks invented democracy!
Doug: You also invented homos.
Sidewinder boss: Fuck you!
Doug: You wish. You'll buy me dinner first!
Josh: [at Wowsville] Aren't there a million places like this?
Enid: No. This is the ultimate. It's, like, the Taj Mahal of fake '50s diners.
Rebecca: [about Weird Al] I want to make love to him.
Enid: I'm gonna tell him you said that.
Weird Al: [shows up to serve them] So nice to see you again, ladies.
Enid: Hi, Weird Al. My friend here has—
Rebecca: Shut up!
Enid: She says she wants to—
Rebecca: [shuts Enid's mouth with her hand] Shut up!
Enid: [spying on Seymour from across the diner] Oh, my God. He just ordered a giant glass of milk.
Josh: That's a vanilla milkshake.
Enid: [about Seymour's garage sale] It was so cute how he had his own little bags. I thought I was going to start crying.
Rebecca: Yeah, he should totally just kill himself. [looking through the classified ads in a newspaper] Oh, here's one. Oh, but you have to share with a "non-smoking feminist and her two cats."
Enid: I don't know. I kind of like him. He's the exact opposite of everything I really hate. In a way, he's such a clueless dork, he's almost kind of cool.
Rebecca: That guy is many things, but he's definitely not cool.
Rebecca: [making fun of Melorra] "Funky."
Enid: What, is she black now?
Rebecca: Oh, look, there he is.
Enid: As always.
Rebecca: Waiting for the bus that never comes.
Enid: I wonder if he's just totally insane or he really thinks the bus is coming?
Rebecca: Why don't you just ask him?
Enid: Hi. What's your name?
Enid: Are you waiting for a bus?
Enid: I hate to tell you this, but they canceled this bus line two years ago. There are no more buses on this street.
Norman: You don't know what you're talking about.
[Enid and Rebecca try to call on Josh at his apartment, but there's no answer at the door]
Enid: I bet he's in there jerking off.
Rebecca: I bet he never jerks off.
Enid: Yeah, he's beyond human stuff like that.
Rebecca: Should we leave a note?
Enid: Yeah. You got a pen?
Rebecca: Yeah. [pulls out a pen]
Enid: [takes a tag left on Josh's door handle and starts writing on it, leaning on Rebecca's back] "Dear Josh, we came by to fuck you, but you were not home. Therefore, you are gay. Signed Tiffany and Amber." [puts it back on Josh's door handle]
Rebecca: You're gonna leave that?
Enid: Why not?
Zine-O-Phobia creep #1: Whoever told you that bullshit about boiling is out of his mind. Carpet beetles are the only way to get flesh off a corpse.
Zine-O-Phobia creep #2: I'm just telling you what he said.
Enid: [having just walked into the store] Don't you creeps ever talk about anything nice? Don't you ever talk about fluffy kittens or the Easter Bunny?
Zine-O-Phobia creep #1: [looking at Enid's green hair and leather jacket] Look who's talking, Little Miss Badass.
Zine-O-Phobia creep #2: Yeah, nice outfit. Who are you supposed to be, Cyndi Lauper?
Enid: Blow me, doofus.
John: [noticing Enid's green hair and leather jacket] Oh, my God. Didn't they tell you?
Enid: Tell me what?
John: Punk rock is over.
Enid: I know it's over, asshole, I'm not even—
John: You really want to fuck up the system? Go to business school. That's what I'm gonna do. Get a job in some big corporation and, like, fuck things up from the inside.
Enid: You know, I'm not even trying—
John: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, do you have my money?
[Enid pulls a dollar bill out of her pocket, scrunches it up and throws it at John. It bounces off his face]
John: Oh! Oh, how punk!
Enid: You know that tape sucked, by the way?
John: Oh, I'm so sorry if it offended Jew.
Enid: Go die, asshole!
John: Get a job.
Enid: God, fuck you!
Rebecca: Can we go now?
Enid: You know, it's not like I'm some modern punk, dickhead! It's obviously a 1977 original punk rock look, but I guess Johnny Fuckface over there is too stupid to realize it!
Rebecca: I didn't really get it either.
Enid: Everyone's too stupid!
Roberta: [looking at a drawing of a man smashing another man's head in with a sledgehammer] What can you tell us about your piece, er... Phillip?
Phillip: Er... it's about The Mutilator.
Roberta: My goodness!
Phillip: It's a really great video game about a guy who kills people with a big hammer.
Roberta: Oh. I thought maybe this was supposed to be your father. [gives a little laugh. Phillip looks confused]
[Seymour is trying to interest a fellow collector in a record he's selling]
Paul: It has a large center hole and a hair crack.
Seymour: But the crack is so tight, it's completely inaudible.
Paul: But a tight hair crack is just that—a crack. I don't collect cracked records. I only pay premium on mint records. Seymour, you know that. Please.
[Paul walks away. Enid, who has been listening, goes up to Seymour]
Enid: So, what was all that about enlarged holes and tight cracks?
Seymour: So, was that your boyfriend?
Enid: Josh? He's nobody's boyfriend. He's just this guy that Becky and I like to torture.
Maxine: It's really quite something to see you all grown-up like this, Enid. I'd love to know what you're doing now. I can't help but feel I had some small part in how you turned out. What are you studying? You were always such a smart little girl.
Enid: I'm taking a remedial high school art class for fuck-ups and retards.
Rebecca: Hey, you see that guy over there?
Enid: Which one?
Rebecca: The blond guy over there. [Enid spots him and rolls her eyes] He gives me, like, a total boner.
Enid: He's, like, the biggest idiot of all time.
Reggae fan: [walking past with his friends] You guys up for some reggae tonight?
Rebecca: [after Enid lifts her hand, as if to say "See what I mean?"] OK, you're right.
Enid: Sometimes I think I'm going crazy from sexual frustration.
Rebecca: And you haven't heard of the miracle of masturbation?
[In a cafe, a shy young man has just given them a flyer, telling them that his band is playing there on Friday night]
Enid: God, what a dork.
Rebecca: You're just jealous.
Enid: Trust me, at this point, I'm past the fact that every single guy likes you better than me.
Rebecca: Oh, face it. You just hate every single guy on the face of the earth.
Enid: That's not true. I just hate all these extroverted, obnoxious, pseudo-bohemian losers.
Customer: Do you serve beer or any alcohol?
Enid: I wish. Actually, you wish. After about five minutes of this movie, you're gonna wish you had ten beers.
Cineplex manager: What the hell is wrong with you?
Enid: What? I was just joking around with the customers. It's my schtick.
Cineplex manager: Well, lose it. And why aren't you pushing the larger sizes? Didn't you get training about upsizing?
Enid: Yeah, but I feel really weird. It's pretty sleazy.
Enid: Medium? Why, sir, do you not know that for a mere 25 cents more, you could purchase a large beverage? And you know, I'm only telling you this because we're such good friends. Medium is really only for suckers who don't know the concept of value.
Garage sale woman: How much for this dress?
Rebecca: God, I can't believe you're selling that.
Enid: That's $500.
Garage sale woman: What?
Garage sale woman: You're crazy. It should be, like, $2.
Enid: I was wearing that when I lost my virginity.
Garage sale woman: Well, why do I care about that?
Enid: Well, why do you want it? I mean, it would look stupid on you anyway.
Garage sale woman: God! Fuck you! [tosses the dress back over the rack and walks off]
Rebecca: So, now are you gonna get a regular job?
Enid: You know what my number-one fantasy used to be?
Enid: I used to think about one day, just not telling anyone and going off to some random place. And I'd just... disappear. And they'd never see me again. Do you ever think about stuff like that?
Seymour: I guess I probably did when I was your age.
Enid: You know what we should do? We should just get in your car right now and just drive off. Just find some totally new place and start a whole new life. Fuck everybody.
Seymour: I'm, uh, I'm not in any good condition to drive.
Enid: I'm serious! I'm just so sick of everybody. Why can't I just do what I want?
Seymour: What do you want?
Enid: What do you want? [a pause. They look into each other's eyes] Don't you like me?