Conference Room
Ari: Everyone. Conference room. Quickly! And quickly means run!
Ari: Everyone. Conference room. Quickly! And quickly means run!
[Ari exits the elevator]
Babs: Ari! Ari! Ari!
Ari: Barbara! Barbara! Barbara! Did you have a stroke and now stutter?
Mrs. Ari: Why were you spinning her around Ari?
Ari: I have dreamt, since I was a kid, about owning a football team. I would have spun Lloyd around if he was in front of me. And if I could lift him.
[Ari's son is pointing a toy gun]
Ari: No no no. Jews don’t carry guns buddy, you know that.
Ari’s son: The Jewish army does.
Jerry: How would you like to own an NFL team Mr. Gold?
Ari: I love you – I love it.
Lizzy: You got the [NFL] meeting? Shit that’s impressive.
Ari: Yeah, I’d blow myself if I was more flexible.
Lizzy: I’m not asking you because I need you, but I’m on the verge of signing an executive producer from Glee.
Ari: I don’t sing.
Account guy: You have to talk to the accounting department.
Ari: I don’t have anything.
Account guy: I have multiple clients with checks missing.
Ari: That’s not a king’s job!
[Mrs. Ari wants Ari to buy her an Italien chandelier, but Ari has to go to his NFL meeting]
Ari: I sell the tv rights and I will buy you Italy.
Jerry: Confident.
Ari: I deliver Jerry. Always have. Ask anyone. Even my wife who’s in the car.
[gesturing to Mrs. Ari that she should speak up]
Mrs. Ari: He always delivers Mr. Jones.