— What you did was dangerous. Very, very, very dangerous.
— I was going two miles an hour, not exactly the Fast and the Furious.
Mr. Verona, what a surprise! Come in...without the sharp object.
— I...use that data to carefully plot out our first encounter, so as to easily befriend and beguile her.
— Beguile? Big word, Shakespear.
— You drive me.
— No way, Miss Daisy.
— I'll tell Dad you're not a virgin.
— You have one hour.
— How do I look?
— Shallow.
— Thank you!
— You never get a second chance to make a first impression.
— Please, we're talking about teenagers. They're impressed by shiny objects.
— Thus my earings.
— Thank you, Dad.
— For what?
— For agreeing with me that popularity is a shallow, superficial thing to pursue.
— No, I don't agree with you.
— What?
— What's wrong with being popular? I loved it. I loved being captain of the football team, president of student council, any girl I wanted.
— Dad, that was Uncle Jimmy.
— So it was. Look, the problem is that it's the popular girls the popular boys wanna have S-E-X with.
— Are you okay? Does anything hurt?
— My neck is a little bit sore.
— Well, that's probably from flipping your hair too much.
— You don't have to beat people up for me. I can do that myself.
— I'm sure you can! But I didn't beat anybody up.
— Yeah, right.
— Scout's honor.