50 First Dates (2004)

Henry: Hi. Sorry for the delay. Should be a few minutes.
Lucy: No problem. No worries.
Henry: Where are you coming form? Breakfast?
Lucy: Yeah.
Henry: How was it?
Lucy: I had waffles. They were delicious.
Henry: I like making little houses out of waffles.
Lucy: You do?
Henry: That's my thing. What's your name?
Lucy: Lucy.
Henry: Hi, I'm Henry.

Henry: I was petting my walrus all morning and I was thinking of you the whole time.
Lucy: Okay, pervert. I think that you should leave.
Henry: What? I was just joking around because of what we talked about yesterday.
Lucy: Yesterday? I've never even met you.

Henry: Pardon me. Sorry to interrupt, but I notice we were both eating alone and I thought perhaps I could sit with you, maybe build a syrup Jacuzzi for your waffle house?
Lucy: Oh, that would be nice, but I have a boyfriend. I'm sorry.
Henry: You're making up a boyfriend so you can get rid of me?
Lucy: No. I'm not.
Henry: What's his name then?
Lucy: Ringo.
Henry: Is his last name, Starr?
Lucy: No. McCartney.

Ula: Oh, you crazy bitch.
Lucy: Yeah, keep running.

Lucy: What are you doing?
Henry: Nothing, I was just getting some lint off for you.
Lucy: You were going for a feelski.
Henry: All right, I'm sorry... But this is like the twenty third time we've made out already and... they're getting blue.

Henry: Actually I'm not drunk at all, Noreen, and neither are you, because there's no alcohol in these drinks. Sadly, I've used this technique many times. It helps lovely tourists such as yourself loosen up without impairing your ability to stay awake all night and have guilt free vigorous sex with me.
Noreen: Wow.

Dr. Keats: Sometimes I wish my wife had Goldfield Syndrome. That way she wouldn't remember last night when I called her mother, a loud obnoxious drunk with a face like J. Edgar Hoover's ass.