Angela Arden Quotes in Die, Mommie, Die! (2003)

Lance Sussman: [Lance, unexpectedly home from college, has hidden behind the stairs and jumps up and scares Angela] Arrrrh!

Angela Arden: Lance! You scared the bejesus out of me!

Lance Sussman: [Chuckling] Kiss me, you beautiful creature.

Lance Sussman: [Upon kissing Lance on the lips] Do I smell pot?

Lance Sussman: Gee, mom, you got me on that one.

Angela Arden: Listen, baby, I'm not one of your friends' square old ladies. I toured with a band. I'm quite familiar with reefer, and fully acquainted with its dangers.

Lance Sussman: You're the coolest mom ever!

Angela Arden: What are you doing home from school?

Lance Sussman: The anti-war demonstration... yeah! Students took over the president's office, they sent the rest of us kids home.

Angela Arden: [Somewhat skeptical] Oh, really?

Lance Sussman: My friend Ruth... gave the associate dean a saltwater enema.

Angela Arden: I need a drink.

Angela Arden: [Pouring drinks] Scotch for me, Pepsi for you.

Lance Sussman: Mom!

Angela Arden: Oh, I suppose a "splash" of bourbon won't kill ya'!

Angela Arden: Darling daughter, you sound like a square from Squaresville.

Angela Arden: I'm in no mood for your patented brand of bitchery, missy.

Angela Arden: I hate this house! I hate these walls... I hate that sofa! The only part of this dump that doesn't make me puke is that door - because that's the way I'm gettin' out!

Sol Sussman: [At the dinner table: Lance is toying with his soup, blowing on spoonfuls of it, but not actually eating it. Sol looks on, increasingly annoyed] Lance, just DRINK the goddamned soup!

Lance Sussman: Sorry, daddy.

Angela Arden: [Addressing Lance in a "secret language," apparently understood only by she and Lance. Subtitles provide the translation] I don't blame you. The soup stinks.

Lance Sussman: [Replying in the same "secret language"] It smell like dirty socks.

Angela Arden: [Again using the "secret language"] Bootsie cuts your dad's socks up and throws them in the soup.

Sol Sussman: [Angela and Lance chuckle over their secret joking. Sol, enraged, gets up and lunges at Lance] God DAMMIT! You eat normal, or we're gonna' shut you away in an institution!

Lance Sussman: No, daddy, don't...

Angela Arden: How dare you speak to your son like that!

Sol Sussman: I'm ashamed to have such a son.

Angela Arden: [Contemptuously] The "great man"! The "conscience" of the Industry! How about a little sympathy and tolerance for your own family?

Sol Sussman: I have NO sympathy for you, baby. And none for him, either.

[Sol glares pointedly at Lance]

Sol Sussman: My son, the Loser!

Lance Sussman: YOU'RE the Loser! The FLOP!

Angela Arden: [Enraged, Sol slaps Lance across the face and Lance gets up and runs out of the room. Angela gets up and looks after Lance in dismay] Lance...

Sol Sussman: [All the commotion has upset the family's twin Pekinese dogs, whose noisy barking can be heard in the background. This enrages Sol even more] Monsters! They get put to sleep tomorrow! Sit down, Angela... SIT DOWN!

Angela Arden: [In the car with Sol, coming back from the theater where they have just seen the Greek tragedy "The House of Atreus," in which Queen Clytemnestra stabs Agamemnon to death] Well, I thought the murder scene was beautifully staged. The character of Queen Clytemnestra was almost... sympathetic. Aren't you glad I made you renew our theater subscriptions?

Sol Sussman: [Annoyed] Oh, Angela, shut up. The best performance tonight was you pretending to be a wife!

Angela Arden: You know, I Magnin is having a sale on go-go boots. We could make a day of it.

Edith Sussman: Go-go boots? They're about as ancient as a hoop skirt.

Angela Arden: Then I could use your able assistance as a fashion consultant.

Edith Sussman: Well, my first bit of advice, mother, would be to cancel your next face lift, and start acting your age.

Angela Arden: [Inserting, with apparent difficulty, a large suppository in Sol] You're very tight. You must do your utmost to relax.

Sol Sussman: Relax? How can I relax with a nuclear warhead up my rectum?

Angela Arden: [to Lance] Are you... a cocksucker?

Bootsie Carp: [Gathered outside the house after Sol's death: police are talking to family members, and paramedics are preparing to take Sol's body away] Mrs. S, it's best that I go. You're much too fragile, and way too famous.

Policeman: Mrs. Sussman, that'll be all for now. You've been very helpful.

Angela Arden: And you're a delight. I can't get over... you're all so darned good looking. You could be actors!

Angela Arden: Where is Edith? We're going to be late for the funeral.

Bootsie Carp: I do worry about that child. But as my wise uncle Enoch used to say, "As ketchup is to meatloaf, so sorrow is a condiment to joy."

Angela Arden: [Back at the house after the funeral for Sol] Bootsie, remove some of these floral tributes. They're wilting and I can't bear to be surrounded by more death.

Bootsie Carp: I think I'll put some of these petals in the pages of my bible.

Angela Arden: As you wish.

Angela Arden: [Back at the house: Angela has just kicked Tony Parker out. Lance and Edith sit nearby] And that goes for all of you. I'm clearin' out the dead wood.

Angela Arden: [She pauses to pour herself a large tumbler of bourbon] This is as good a time as any to announce that I'm selling the house to the first bidder.

Edith Sussman: You wouldn't!

Angela Arden: Edith, I don't want to hear a word about it. I am sick and tired of living my life for others. This is a time for Angela Arden. This time it's for me, for Me, for ME!

Lance Sussman: But mother...

Angela Arden: [Ignoring Edith's and Lance's protests] I hate this house, I hate these walls, I hate that sofa... The only part of this dump that doesn't make me puke is that door, because that's the way I'm gettin' out.

Edith Sussman: You can't sell this house.

Angela Arden: I'm bringing down these walls around us. To quote the kids in the ghetto, "Burn, baby, burn!"

[She tosses her tumbler of bourbon into the fire: a large plume of fire flashes up]

Angela Arden: Sweetie? Sweetie, these angels need to be walked.

Edith Sussman: Translation: Get the hell out of here so I could be shrew to your father in private.