Stella

Michael Ian Black:
Do it, do it, do it auld maid!

Libby Green:
David, do you know my husband, Edward Norton?

David:
Not personally, but I'm a fan!

Micheal Ian Black:
Hey here's a compromise, instead of listening to funkROCK, why don't we listen to FUNKrock.

Libby:
So the unit has 3,000 sq. feet, three beds, three baths, and a nursery.

David:
Oh, well, we wouldn't be needing a nursery.

Michael Ian Black:
Actually Michael might, because he's kind of a cry baby.

Michael:
I am not a cry baby!

Michael Ian Black:
Then why are you about to cry?

Michael:
Michael, can we please discuss this out on the terrace?

David Wain:
How's the soup, Mike?

Michael Ian Black:
It's good.

David Wain:
Yeah, you won't be saying that after I kill you.

Michael Ian Black:
America is the greatest country in the world. Think of all the great things that have come from America...

Michael Showalter:
Rugby.

David Wain:
Chicken tikka masala.

Michael Ian Black:
Chinese people.

Michael Showalter:
ASS!

David Wain:
[in a British accent] Harry Potter.

Michael Ian Black:
Rubber balls and liquor.

Michael Showalter:
Then I say something.

Michael Ian Black:
I take my coffee the same way I take my women: Strong. Black. And proud.

Michael Showalter:
Today's global economy waits for no man.

Michael Ian Black:
Interconnectivity... Synergy...

Michael Showalter:
Synchronicity... Zenyatta Mondatta...

Michael Ian Black:
The Dream of the Blue Turtles...

Michael Showalter:
Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits.

Julie:
[talking to Richard] But somebody once told me that sometimes you have to know when to move on.

Michael Showalter:
It was me. I told you.

Michael Ian Black:
Nothing, I, uh, thought I saw a potato..

Michael Showalter:
No, no. It ain't goin' down like that, ese.

Michael Ian Black:
How did you get past security without a boarding pass?

David Wain:
I know, it's weird.

David Wain:
You remind me of fast food.

Woman:
[giggling] Oh, why's that?

David Wain:
Cause I wanna take you out.

Woman:
[flattered, giggling] Oh, haha.

David Wain:
..And then I wanna eat you in my car.

Michael Ian Black:
I'm gonna go rub one out and call it a night.

Michael Showalter:
I like your tat.

Jemma:
Thanks, I did it myself.

Michael Showalter:
Really?

Jemma:
I like pain.

Michael Showalter:
I like cookies.

Michael Showalter:
Why are you pointing the gun at me, David? I'm trying to help you!

David:
I know, it's weird..

David:
Sho's a real turkey, right here.

Michael Showalter:
I am not a turkey, David.

David:
I'm just-

Michael Showalter:
I AM NOT A TURKEY!

David:
Michael, it was just a joke.

Michael Showalter:
[crying] It didn't seem very funny..

Michael Ian Black:
What are we going to do?

David:
Call Marcus!

Michael Ian Black:
Yeah, call Marcus.

Michael Showalter:
Who's Marcus?

Michael Ian Black:
I don't know.

David:
I know I can hunt but can Mike hunt? And Mike hunt?

Mountain Man:
Of course.

David:
No, no, no. But you say it.

Mountain Man:
Mike hunt. What are you guys laughing at? All I said was "Mike hunt." Now what's so funny about Mike hunt?

Michael Showalter:
I'm cold.

Michael Ian Black:
I'm hungry.

David:
I'm David. [Makes fart sound]

Michael Ian Black:
I don't think I'm overstating anything when I say that I'm really mad at Jane Burroughs.

David:
We can just make another copy.

Michael Ian Black:
Oh, no you don't. You start doing that, the next thing you know you got Chinese bootleggers selling these things on the streets of Chow Ming for a nickel and a corn dog.

Michael Showalter:
That's what I was about to say.

David:
What's the first thing you see when you open a book?

Michael Showalter:
The inscription.

David:
Yes! How about "To Marcus"?

Michael Ian Black:
Yeah, yeah. "To Marcus."

Michael Showalter:
Who's Marcus? Guys, who the hell is Marcus?

Michael Ian Black:
I know, I don't know.

Michael Ian Black:
You'll never get away with this Jane. What happens when we tell everyone what you've done?

Jane:
Do not make me laugh. I am Jane Burroughs, the darling of the literary establishment. And who are you? Three buffoons.

Michael Showalter:
Oh yeah? Well this balloon is going to kick your ass, right now.

Jane:
David?

David:
Yes, Jane?

Jane:
Please, call me Jane.

David Wain:
Stupid question but, what is a book?

Jane:
Oh my gosh, it's a baby deer!

David Wain:
What? Where?

[The guys turn around while Jane runs away]

David Wain:
Hey, you guys, she's gone.

Michael Showalter:
There was no baby deer.

Michael Ian Black:
Do you mean the entire time she was talking about the baby deer, she was lying?

Michael Showalter:
Yes. I'm afraid so.

David Wain:
She's brilliant.

Michael Ian Black:
I'm gonna look one more time for that baby deer.

David:
Michael!

Michael Showalter:
I just threw..our novel in the fireplace and that was wrong of me and I'll be the first person to admit it..

Michael Ian Black:
I didn't even know we had a fireplace.

Michael Ian Black:
Do I have wood? Yeah. I've got so much wood I should be a forest right now.

Michael Showalter:
Only three things in this world are green Stacy. Plants, money, and jealousy. We're doing pretty well on the first two, but it seems like you got the market cornered on the third one.

Jennifer:
Oh yeah? What about frogs huh? Frogs are green.

Michael Showalter; Not brown frogs. They're not green.

Michael Ian Black:
Out of our way girls. It's asparagus season.

Mr. McDoogle:
Gentlemen, I am Mr. McDoogle from the bank. I'm here for the money you owe us.

Michael Showalter:
Mr. McDoogle, we don't have this money.

Mr. McDoogle:
Ah.

Michael Showalter:
WE DON'T HAVE YOUR MONEY...Mr. McDoogle.

Michael Showalter:
Hey, you guys, look! A shooting star. Make a wish.

Michael Ian Black:
I wish we had our apartment back.

Michael Showalter:
I wish we had our apartment back.

David Wain:
I wish I was dry-humping Maggie.

All Three:
CANDY!

Michael Ian Black:
Son of a bitch, get off the candy!

David Wain:
Let's go to an amusement park...in our minds...

Michael Showalter:
David went to Juliard, Michael. He's a classical violinist!

David:
And I'm a classical pianist!

Michael Ian Black:
You're a classical dick, is what you are!