Randy:
That techno-rock you guys listen to is gutless.

Julie Richman:
Do you think she really does all the stuff she says?

Stacey:
I mean, who could make up 'That stuff tastes like Clorox.'?

Fred Bailey:
So, you wanna dance?

Fred Bailey:
Yeah, I didn't either. I was just taking a poll.

Randy:
Where do you work?

Julie Richman:
At my parents' store.

Randy:
What do they sell?

Julie Richman:
Health foods.

Randy:
That's cool.

Julie Richman:
Like, it's not cool at all! Like, it's all this stuff that tastes like nothing and it's supposed to be so good for you. Why couldn't they, like, open a Pizza Hut or something?

Julie Richman:
I'll start my diet tomorrow.

Stacey:
You better watch out, because Randy might like the Hollywood lean look.

Suzi Brent:
Yeah, but blimps don't get to go out with Tommy.

Julie Richman:
Who?

Stacey:
Tommy.

Julie Richman:
Who?

Julie Richman:
Fuck him!

Fred Bailey:
Ahh! Stacey! Hey, man, check out Stacey!

Randy:
I don't wanna see Stacey.

Randy:
Ugh! That's it! Man, I've had it with you, Bailey!

Fred Bailey:
What? I didn't think her haircut was that bad.

Randy:
What do you mean, her haircut? I just want to know what the rest of this grand plan of yours is.

Fred Bailey:
No, man, this is it! Simplicity at its finest.

Randy:
Simplicity at its finest. Well, at least you got us here. So let's...