Cece Quote #166
Schmidt: Ding, ding. The biscuits are ready.
Cece: Well, did you make enough for Cousin Andy?
Schmidt: S... I'm-I'm gonna tell you the truth. I don't get that one, either. Who the hell is Cousin Andy?
Cece: I just made it up. Mmm. [they kiss]
Quote from Schmidt
Schmidt: You know, when we first met, I had to pretend that all kinds of things were wrong with you just so I wouldn't freak out. You know, like, I gave you a glass eye for a while. You had a wooden foot for a short period of time. There was one week where I pretended that you were a Democrat.
Cece: I am a Democrat.
Schmidt: [laughing] Ah, that's so funny. I love you.
Cece: Okay. So we tell Nick she has a glass eye.
Schmidt: He'll spin out. He'll think the eye is a government-issued camera taking pictures for Langley. [Cece scoffs] Nick's a conspiracy theorist. It's like an Irish carnival up there-- just potato peels, broken rides, fiddle music, dreams left unfulfilled, bloodied soccer jerseys, bunch of women limping around named Moira.
Quote from Homecoming
Cece: Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Cece Schmidt. So if any of you have anything else you'd like to say to my husband, I will drag you outside and we will handle this L.A. style. I will take you to the corner of Fairfax and La Brea. [crowd booing]
Winston: Those are parallel streets.
Nick: I'm not telling her that.
Louise: That's my daughter! We have to leave. Where's my car?
Jess: Even though your car is definitely here, it's a beautiful night... let's walk.
Winston: Okay, look, she clearly did something weird with your car, but I got something. Trust us.
Cece: Sepulveda! La Cienega, bitches. El Matador beach.
Schmidt: You're just naming places in Southern California.
Cece: Nickel Canyon!
Quote from Mario
Schmidt: How can I survive another nine months of pregnant Cece? She was so mean to me.
Schmidt: I got your wings, my love.
Cece: I wanted all flats, no drumlets! Do they look flat to you?! [muffled grunting] Do they look flat to you?!
Schmidt: She tried to jam the business end of a drumlet straight up my tuchus. And then things got worse. I can only describe what I experienced next as... anti-Semitic.
Cece: Hey, gefilte face! Quit playing "Where's My Foreskin?" and get in here and rub my feet before I divorce your Yentl-loving, Ashkenazi ass!