The Opera

Jerry:You know what the conventional markers of adult success are? A good job, your own apartment, maybe a nice car. But moving back with your parents? That's the pinnacle. That's when you know you've really made it.

Jerry:So I'm moving back in with my parents. It's like being in prison rehabilitation.

Jerry:They have the official language and everything. 'We're very pleased with your progress, Jerry. You're showing real signs of adjustment.'

Jerry:You know what's weird about going back to your parents' house? You feel huge. I mean, you walk into your childhood bedroom, and suddenly you're like this giant. Your head's touching the ceiling, you can't fit through the doorway. But the thing that really gets me is this: when you're a kid, your parents seem enormous, right? Like, they could hold the entire world between their fingers. And now you're back in that room, and you realize the physical impossibility of it. I mean, your father couldn't hold you between his fingers now if his life depended on it. And that's when it hits you—you've become the giant, and they're just... regular-sized people in a regular-sized house.

Jerry:My father, he wears sneakers in the pool. Pool sneakers. He won't go in the water without them.

George:Pool sneakers?

Jerry:Pool sneakers. They're like regular sneakers, but they're for the pool.

Jerry:My father won't go in the water. He says it's bad for his shoes.

George:My mother won't go in the water either. She says it'll ruin her hair.

Jerry:At least your mother has a reason. My father says water is 'a precipitous hazard to one's footwear.'

George:I've been keeping a detailed list of every laugh my mother has ever made. And I'm telling you, there are laugh types she's never even attempted. Snort laughs, belly laughs, the kind where you can't catch your breath... Nothing. It's like she's deliberately avoiding certain laugh categories.

Jerry:My mother never laughed. Not once. I'm not even sure she smirked.

George:You need money for rent? I'll lend it to you.

George:But you gotta pay me back. It's like sex - if you don't put out, I'm not coming back.

George:I can't move in with you.

Jerry:Why not?

George:Because I'd have to give up my apartment, and what if we have a fight? Where would I go?

Jerry:You could stay in a hotel.

George:A hotel? Do you know what hotels cost? I'd be bankrupt in a week!

Frank:You want to hear a joke?

Jerry:No.

Frank:I got a joke for you.

Jerry:Frank, you don't tell jokes. You just yell things.

Frank:No, no, I got a good one. A man walks into a doctor's office...

Jerry:You know what? You should write that down. Comedy is all about timing, and on the page you can really work out the rhythm.

Frank:What are you talking about? I'm telling you the joke right now!

Jerry:I know, but trust me on this one. Get it down, punch it up, workshop it. You'll see the difference.

Jerry:You know what the difference is between eating a bologna sandwich and eating a steak?

Estelle:What?

Jerry:About thirty years of my life.

Estelle:What is this, some kind of psychological rejection? You're all rejecting my bologna because of some deep-seated neurosis!

Jerry:What am I supposed to do with all these sandwiches? I can't just walk down the street with a box of sandwiches. People will think I'm crazy.

Estelle:So what? Just take them home.

Jerry:I can't carry a box of sandwiches through the city. It's not normal. What if I run into someone I know? 'Hey Jerry, whatcha got there?' 'Oh, just sandwiches.' They'll think I'm insane.

George:The restaurant scene — George reacts with horror to the entire setting (waiter avoiding them, his father talking about silver dollars) with an 'Oh, my God.'

Leslie:I'd really like to go out with you sometime.

Jerry:What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.

Leslie:I said I'd like to go out with you.

Jerry:You'll have to speak up. I can barely hear you.

Leslie:blah blah blah blah blah?

Jerry:Yeah, yeah, absolutely.

Leslie:blah blah blah blah?

Jerry:No question about it.

Leslie:blah blah blah blah blah blah?

Jerry:I couldn't agree more.

Leslie:I've created a line of clothing inspired by the Holocaust.

Jerry:The Holocaust? That's your inspiration?

Leslie:Well, the lines, the patterns... it's very slimming.

Kramer:The pirate shirt is back. And it's not a novelty item. It's actually a very functional garment.

Jerry:Functional? It's a pirate shirt.

Kramer:Yeah! Think about it. You got the billowy sleeves, which allow for maximum mobility. The low neckline provides ventilation. And the shirt is so light, you barely know you're wearing it.

Jerry:But you look like a pirate.

Kramer:So what? Pirates were very practical dressers. They spent a lot of time on the water. They needed clothing that would dry quickly and move with them.

Frank:You know, George, you should try working in an office. It's a respectable career.

George:An office? That's the worst idea I've ever heard.

George · Frank Costanza:I do know that I have some kind of a talent, something to offer. I just don't know what it is yet. / I bet that collection would be worth a lot of money today.

George:Oh, a civil service job? That's perfect for me.

George:Wait, what job exactly?

George:A *sanitation worker*? Are you insane? I'm not picking up garbage for a living!

Frank:I got a problem with spending them. I can't do it. I look at 'em and I just can't spend 'em.

George:So what, you got some kind of phobia?

Frank:Yeah, I got a phobia. Numenismatophobia.

George:I'm between jobs.

George:I'm not unemployed, I'm between jobs.

George:There's a big difference.

Frank:Silver dollars, George! You know how many I got? Twelve!

George:Dad, I'm having a career crisis here.

Frank:A career crisis? I got twelve silver dollars! You think I'm worried about a career?

George:Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Look, I'm George Costanza. I'm married, I live in Queens, I'm an assistant to the traveling secretary of the New York Yankees. My wife thinks I'm a little strange, maybe somewhat awkward. I'm not very good with money. I have a lot of bad luck. I'm not very confident. I don't have a lot of friends. I have a lot of sexual problems. I sometimes say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I'm not good with the ladies. I sometimes have a problem with keeping my composure in social situations.

Woman:Your hands are absolutely beautiful.

George:Thank you. I've been taking care of them.

Jerry:Your hands are like catcher's mitts!

George:They are not! My hands are perfectly normal. You know what? I'm offended. I've always been sensitive about my hands.

Jerry:Sensitive? George, you can palm a basketball.

George:So what? That's a skill! That's not a defect. You're jealous because you have those tiny little pianist hands.

George:My brain is my second-best feature. I don't have to exercise it, I don't have to develop it, I can be lazy and still have a perfectly good brain.

George:Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?!

Kramer:What? I'm just playing with it.

George:Just playing with it?! Do you have any idea what you're doing? You could break it!

Kramer:It's not gonna break.

George:Not gonna break?! Everything breaks! Everything! You touch something, it breaks. That's the way the world works.

Kramer:George, relax.

Elaine:Let me see your hands.

George:Why? What do you want to see my hands for?

Elaine:I just want to see them.

George:These are my hands, Elaine. I use them for everything. I can't just show them to people like they're some kind of... exhibit at a museum.

Elaine:George, just show me your hands.

George:Fine. But don't touch them. Look, but don't touch. They're very delicate. I've been conditioning them, keeping them soft. One wrong move and the whole thing falls apart.

Elaine:Your hands are so soft!

George:They're like butter.

Elaine:They're like cashmere.

George:They're like a nice piece of veal.

Jerry:What is that? What are you wearing?

George:It's a beekeeper suit. I'm protecting myself.

Jerry:From what? We're in my apartment!

George:You never know where they could be.

Jerry:Where what could be? George, there are no bees in here!

George:What's the big deal? You put on the oven mitts, you go in the oven. Problem solved.

Jerry:You go IN the oven?

George:Sure. Why not? It's warm, it's cozy...

Jerry:Wait, what did I agree to exactly?

Kramer:You said you'd wear the shirt!

Jerry:I know I'd wear the shirt, but what shirt? What are you talking about?

Kramer:The Bro! I'm coming out with a line of brassieres for men.

Jerry:No, no, no, I'm not wearing a bra!

Jerry:I was just nodding politely.

Kramer:What do you mean 'nodding politely'? You looked like you understood everything I was saying.

Jerry:Well, I was trying to be nice.

Kramer:Nice? You gave me the head nod! The full head nod! That's not polite, that's a lie!

Jerry:What is this? Why would anyone wear this?

Jerry:It's like someone said, 'You know what would look great? A shirt that makes you look like a couch.'

Kramer:No no no, you're all wrong. This is going to be big. Mark my words - in five years, everyone's going to be dressing like a pirate.

Kramer:Mark my words: in five years, everyone's gonna be dressing like pirates.

Jerry:Oh, I don't think so.

Estelle:I always knew you had nice hands, George. I always said so.

Estelle:I always talked about your hands. Remember? I said you had very nice hands.

Frank:You never said that.

Estelle:I'm not saying he's a liar, I'm saying he's a *fibber*. There's a difference!

Frank:A fibber? What are you talking about? A fibber, a liar — it's the same thing!

Estelle:No it's not! A liar is someone who tells big lies. A fibber tells little lies. He's a fibber!

Frank:He told me the Mets were in first place! That's not a little lie, that's a *big* lie!

Estelle:For *him* it's little!

Estelle:Here, take these scissors.

George:Scissors? Do you know how many people are killed by scissors every year? Thousands! Maybe tens of thousands!

Estelle:George, just take the scissors.

George:I'm not touching those death traps. You want me to end up like Uncle Leo? Oh wait, he's still alive, but only because he avoids scissors!

George:Well, actually, I'm employing a multifaceted paradigm in my professional endeavors. It's quite complex, really. The synergistic approach I've developed leverages core competencies across various demographic strata.

Makeup Artist:I think you'd look great in a puffy shirt.

Jerry:A puffy shirt? Why would I wear a puffy shirt?

Makeup Artist:It's very comfortable, very in right now.

Jerry:What am I, a pirate? Do I look like I'm about to go plunder some ships?

Elaine:Why are you so upset?

Jerry:Why am I so upset? Why am I so upset?! Because you keep asking me why I'm so upset!

George · Hand Agent:You mean... / Yes. / He was not master of his domain.

Elaine:You look like you're going on a swashbuckling adventure!

Jerry:I do not.

Elaine:You're gonna climb the rigging, jump from mast to mast, rescue some damsel in distress!

Hand Model Agent:These are nice hands. Very nice hands. Delicate. Feminine.

George:My mother said the same thing.

Hand Model Agent:You see, Ray McKigney had a very tragic accident. He was obsessed with his hands because... well, let's just say he had a lot of emotional baggage tied up in them.

Hand Model Agent:You know, Ray McKigney was a hand model. Very successful. But he had a problem - he was a Cub Scout leader.

Hand Model Agent:One day, during a camping trip, he got into a terrible accident with a s'mores stick. Burned both his hands badly.

Hand Model Agent:The worst part? He was working on a Cheerios commercial the next day.

George:You know, we're not even gonna think about Ray McKigney. We're gonna go out there, and we're gonna take this thing, just like we took the Puggy Sherwin.

Bryant Gumbel:Jerry, that's a very... unique shirt you're wearing today.

Jerry:Yeah, well, it's not really my style, if you know what I mean.

Bryant Gumbel:I can see that.

Bryant Gumbel:You're like a pirate.

Jerry:I'm like a pirate.

Bryant Gumbel:Well, I think we can all agree that pirates were, in many ways, entrepreneurs of the sea.

Bryant Gumbel:They took risks, they were innovative, they really disrupted the maritime trade.

Bryant Gumbel:I mean, sure, they murdered people and stole their cargo, but let's not lose sight of their business acumen here.

Jerry:You know what? I'm done pretending. You're not funny. You never were.

Leslie:Excuse me?!

Leslie:You bastard!

Jerry:I guess now they can hear you.

Frank:You're very handsome in that shirt.

George:I'm starving. What do we have?

Estelle:I made some soup. It's very hot.

George:How hot?

Estelle:Very hot. Wear oven mitts.

George:Oven mitts? It's soup!

George:Ah! Ah! Oh my God! My hands! My precious hands!

Hand Model Agent:You know, it's a shame about that hand model. He had such potential. Those hands were insured for a quarter million dollars.

George:Yeah, well, he should've been more careful.

Hand Model Agent:He was careful. Very careful. But sometimes... sometimes careful isn't enough.

Jerry:Some heckles are just unbeatable. You can't win against them. A guy yells out something, and you realize right then and there, 'I'm not getting out of this one.' It's over. He's got me. The heckle is superior. I have to accept it and move on.

Homeless Man:These are nice shirts!

Homeless Man:Ahoy, matey! Spare a doubloon for an old sea dog?

Jerry:Okay, that shirt looks good on you.

Jerry:Why do we apologize when someone else isn't speaking clearly? 'I'm sorry, what?' No! They should apologize. They're the ones who can't speak! I'm doing fine over here. I'm speaking great. Crystal clear. You're the one mumbling like you've got a mouth full of marbles.

Jerry:You know what I hate? When someone calls you and they don't identify themselves. They just start talking like you know who they are.

Jerry:And you're on the phone going, 'Who is this? Who am I talking to?' But you can't ask because you don't want to seem rude.

Jerry:So in my fantasy, I just say, 'I have no idea who you are. You could be anybody. You could be a serial killer for all I know. Start over. Tell me your name.'

Jerry:Just completely honest. No filter. No social niceties. Just brutal truth.

Jerry:Why do we always have to say, 'Excuse me' when we can't hear what someone's saying? Why are we so guilty and so...? 'Excuse me. Pardon me. I'm sorry.' Why can't, just once, I go: 'Nope. Not loud enough'?

Jerry:Someone mumbles something, and you go, 'Your fault. I'm not sorry, because it's your fault.'