Brian: I'm trying to establish a friendship with you. All I've done is try to be nice to you, and you still don't like me. How can you not like me?
Quagmire: [icily] Okay, I'll tell you. You are the worst person I know. You constantly hit on your best friend's wife. The man pays for your food and rescued you from certain death, and this is how you repay him? And to add insult to injury, you defecate all over his yard. [getting angrier] And you're such a sponge. You pay for nothing. You're always like [mockingly] "Ooh, I'll get you later," but later never comes. And what really bothers me, is you pretend that you're this deep guy that loves women for their souls, when all you do is date bimbos. Yeah, I date women for their bodies, but at least I'm honest about it. I don't buy them a copy of Catcher in the Rye and then lecture them with some seventh grade interpretation about how Holden Caulfield was some profound intellectual. He wasn't! He was a spoiled brat! And that's why you like him so much — he's you! God, you're pretentious! [brimming with indignation] And you delude yourself by thinking you're some great writer, even though you're terrible. You know, I should've known Cheryl Tiegs didn't write me that note. She would've known there's no "a" in the word "definite." And what I think I hate most about you is your textbook liberal agenda. How we should [mockingly] "legalize pot, man", how big business is crushing the underclass, how homelessness is the biggest tragedy in America. Well what have you done to help?! I work down at the soup kitchen, Brian. Never seen you down there. You wanna help? Grab a ladle! And by the way, driving a Prius does not make you Jesus Christ. [getting angrier still] Oh wait, you don't believe in Jesus Christ, or any religion for that matter because[mockingly] "religion is for idiots." Well who the hell are you to talk down to anyone?! You failed college twice, which isn't nearly as bad as your failure as a father. How's that son of yours you never see? But you know what? I could forgive all of that — all of it — if you weren't such a BORE. That's the worst of it, Brian. You're just a big, sad, alcoholic BORE! [sighs, slams his napkin on the table, and gets up to leave] I'll see ya, Brian. Thanks for the fucking steak.
¿Tiene que ver o no?
Quagmire: [icily] Okay, I'll tell you. You are the worst person I know. You constantly hit on your best friend's wife. The man pays for your food and rescued you from certain death, and this is how you repay him? And to add insult to injury, you defecate all over his yard. [getting angrier] And you're such a sponge. You pay for nothing. You're always like [mockingly] "Ooh, I'll get you later," but later never comes. And what really bothers me, is you pretend that you're this deep guy that loves women for their souls, when all you do is date bimbos. Yeah, I date women for their bodies, but at least I'm honest about it. I don't buy them a copy of Catcher in the Rye and then lecture them with some seventh grade interpretation about how Holden Caulfield was some profound intellectual. He wasn't! He was a spoiled brat! And that's why you like him so much — he's you! God, you're pretentious! [brimming with indignation] And you delude yourself by thinking you're some great writer, even though you're terrible. You know, I should've known Cheryl Tiegs didn't write me that note. She would've known there's no "a" in the word "definite." And what I think I hate most about you is your textbook liberal agenda. How we should [mockingly] "legalize pot, man", how big business is crushing the underclass, how homelessness is the biggest tragedy in America. Well what have you done to help?! I work down at the soup kitchen, Brian. Never seen you down there. You wanna help? Grab a ladle! And by the way, driving a Prius does not make you Jesus Christ. [getting angrier still] Oh wait, you don't believe in Jesus Christ, or any religion for that matter because[mockingly] "religion is for idiots." Well who the hell are you to talk down to anyone?! You failed college twice, which isn't nearly as bad as your failure as a father. How's that son of yours you never see? But you know what? I could forgive all of that — all of it — if you weren't such a BORE. That's the worst of it, Brian. You're just a big, sad, alcoholic BORE! [sighs, slams his napkin on the table, and gets up to leave] I'll see ya, Brian. Thanks for the fucking steak.¿Tiene que ver o no?
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