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Jessie: Well, George Michael, are you happy?
George Michael: Well ... I got a bum away from the stand without hurting his feelings. That was pretty sweet.
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Michael: Look, George Michael, I want you to tell me how you feel, ok? I don't want you to worry so much about hurting my feelings.
George Michael: I didn't want to go to that school, and Jessie's a psycho.
Michael: It could've saved us a little bit of time.
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Lindsay: "Lindsay's a combative, entitled princess"? I should hire somebody to kick your ass for that.
Lucille: Save your money.
Lindsay: You're right. I'll do it myself.
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Lucille: Let me tell you something, sweetie. We may pick on each other, get into little scrapes, call each other names and occasionally steal from each other, but that's because we are family.
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Jessie: Hi, George Michael. Proud of yourself?
George Michael: Yeah, actually. I got a bum away from the stand without hurting his feelings. That was pretty sweet.
Jessie: No, I mean about your father. About denying him his chance to be happy?
Maeby: You're into that, too? I'm rubbing off on you, huh?
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Michael: Jessie ... No, I was just saying your name as you walked away. I didn't ... I have no follow-up.
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George Michael: He's my dad. I don't want to disappoint him.
Maeby: You and I are so different. It's like we're not even related.
George Michael: That would be amazing.
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Jessie: (to photographer) Oh, good. Get one of Michael and me on a date. Thank you.
Michael: A date? This is a date now? I thought this was just business.
Jessie: Can't it be a little bit of both?
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Narrator: Meanwhile, Gob was beginning his charity work at a local nursing home.
Gob: I'm going to need a volunteer for my next illusion: The Aztec Tomb.
Woman: A tomb?
Gob: Or box. Box is ... fine.
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Jessie: Buster.
Buster: Right here, ready to go, at your service, get me out there.
Jessie: I want you to stay in. People find you odd and alienating. You make them uneasy. Stay out of the spotlight.
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Jessie: I think it's best if you got a job.
Lindsay: Oh, come on! I'm a parent, I care about my daughter every bit as much as Michael cares about his son.
Maeby: What grade am I in?
Lindsay: What kind of job?
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Jessie: Your father's religious now? We'll play that up. It's very sympathetic.
Lucille: Yeah. Who doesn't love the Jews?
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Buster: Uh, I'm unclear about what it is exactly you do.
Jessie: Excellent question. What a publicist does ...
Buster: No, no, I was talking to George Michael. When did you get a job?
George Michael: At the banana stand.
Buster: Oh, duh. I thought you meant, like, a plumber or something, and I was, like, when did that happen?
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Lindsay: (to Jessie) Instead of us getting jobs, why don't you do your job and tell everyone we've got jobs?
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Michael: I met a publicist today. I'm going to hire her. We need somebody to make us look good.
Lucille: And I say it's a waste of money. We're-we're plenty sympathetic as we are. Is this your onion?
Lupe: Yes.
Lucille: What's in the foil?
Lupe: Nothing. It's a ball of foil for my son.
Lucille: Have a great day, sweetie.
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Lindsay: (sobbing) How can you treat me this way?!
Lucille: Oh, please! Everything I've said about you can be covered with makeup and a lie about a thyroid problem. Good grief almighty! You think I'm enjoying my slide into poverty?
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Waitress: Welcome to Klimpy's. Anywhere you like.
Lucille: This does not bode well.
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Hostess: Mrs. Bluth, there's absolutely no room.
Lindsay: Come on. I've suddenly lost my appetite.
Lucille: Oh, who's going to believe that?
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Lucille: If I still had money, I'd buy a Klimpy's just to burn it to the ground.
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Michael: I can assure you that my family is back on track and no longer in any trouble.
Charles Milford: Not according to today's paper.
Michael: Oh, God, what have we done this time?
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Michael: Are you talking about the fact that my father is in jail? Because I don't like to be compared to my father, either.
George Michael: I don't mind being compared to my father.
Michael: Save it for the talk room, son.
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Charles Milford: Things have changed around here. We have talking sessions throughout the day. We even have a talking room where students are encouraged to go in and talk to their heart's content.
George Michael: Sounds like fun.
Michael: First thing he's said all day.
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Narrator: On the next Arrested Development, Buster moves to the kitchen.
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Lindsay: You seem like a man of taste and class.
Man at bar: I'll give you $2,000 to touch me.
(Tobias and Carl Weathers enter bar)
Lindsay: Oh, my god, my husband.
Man at bar:You're married to Carl Weathers? S***!
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Various Characters: You can always tell a Milford Man.
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Michael: Murdered, huh? Who died?
Gob: My career.
Michael: I'm going home now.
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Jesse: It allows me to put Michael front and centre, he needs to be the new face of this family. He is the only likeable one in the bunch, no offense.
Michael: None taken.
Gob: I'm sorry. Isn't Michael the least likeable one in the family?
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Michael: Okay sure she's cute, I suppose. I mean now that you're making me think about it, uh, she's cute. She's a cutie. Little cutie pie. But I never really noticed.
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Narrator: Buster so excelled at being neither seen, nor heard, that he remained at the school, undetected for a full two semesters after he was supposed to graduate.
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Jessie: And Tobias, you're a medical doctor and you're living an absurd fantasy as an actor. It's time to get real.
Tobias: Wow. It's a tough talk, but I like it. You're saying, "land a major film".
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Jessie: There are very few intelligent, attractive, and straight men in this town.
Tobias: Well, that certainly leaves me out. She said single.
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Reporter: Where's Earl Milford?
Gob: I-I don't know. I put him in a box. I didn't kill him, alright? And don't edit this for your broadcast so it looks like I'm screaming, "I killed Earl Milford!"
(Cut to Fox6 News)
John Beard: Startling confession tonight at 11:00.
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Lindsay: (to Michael) So, you didn't get any while you were in high school, and now you're not going to get any while George Michael's in high school.
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Lucille: I'll have the Ike and Tina tuna.
Waitress: Plate or platter?
Lucille: I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it.
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George Sr.: Gentlemen, we do not wave our genitals at one another to make a point!
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Jessie: Daddy lost his shot at happy and it's all your fault, Opie.
Narrator: Jessie had gone too far and she had best watch her mouth.