Jess: You can't let her do this! We have to keep fighting!
Schmidt: She's taking me to a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a carniceria tomorrow. You know, Jess, I really think that she may be grooming me to be her arm candy. This could be a real Bill and Hillary situation.
Jess: You, sir, are no Bill Clinton.
Schmidt: I know. I'm Hillary.
Jess: Well, you're not Hillary, either!
Schmidt: I am, too, Hillary!

Fawn Moscato: Make sure they're sharp. It's political suicide to not cut the ribbon on the first try.
Schmidt: Of course. Look, if there's anyone who understand the importance of a sharp knife, it's a Jewish man.

Jess: So you're taking her out to dinner? That's your plan?
Schmidt: I'm intoxicating a single, overworked public official with the pleasure of my company. Which I will then parlay into getting her to fix our problem. Are my sleeves even? This is ridiculous. You know, my new tailor sews like an army medic. I'm not being overdramatic when I say that I would rather sit naked on a hot grill than wear something off the rack.