Quote from The Ref

(Lloyd and Caroline, a married couple, are in Dr. Wong's office, going through an intense counseling session)

Dr. Wong: Caroline, what do you want from the marriage?
Lloyd: Oh, this should be good.
Caroline: Oh, what does that mean?
Lloyd: Because you don't know what you want, you blame everybody else for it. (to Dr. Wong) She's impossible to satisfy. She lives in her fantasies. I mean, let's really try to understand Caroline's miserable life. She lives in a beautiful home --
Caroline: Which his mother owns . . .
Lloyd: I have a successful business --
Caroline: Which his mother owns. We're in servitude to his mother for a loan she's charging us eighteen percent interest on! We personally own nothing --
Lloyd: We took out a loan, we have to pay it back.
Caroline: No, no, no, no, YOU took out a loan, I mean it was your decision, not mine. You took out a loan from Satan mom . . .
Lloyd: She blames my mother for everything that's gone wrong in her life. In the meantime, she never finishes anything she starts. (counts on his fingers) Photography courses . . . existential philosophy courses . . . Scandinavian cooking classes . . .
Caroline: At least I go after my dreams.
Lloyd: To be what? Somebody who takes photographs of lutefish to prove the nothingness of being? No wonder our son's so confused.
Caroline: Oh! He blames me for Jesse! Is that right?
Dr. Wong: I'm not here to judge or to take sides . . .
Caroline: (disgusted) Oh, what the hell good are you? (to Lloyd) You're the one who's suffocated him with limitations! Our son's a very sensitive, creative little bo--
Lloyd: Juvenile delinquent!
Caroline: Boy. He has the kind of imagination--
Lloyd: That the mafia gives scholarships for! (to Dr. Wong) In the ninth grade, we told him he could get a part time job. Are you ready for what he did? He started an escort service for the football team, and he gave out my mother's phone number!
Caroline: And I still say gettin' laid by an eighteen year old linebacker is JUST WHAT SHE NEEDS!!
Dr. Wong: (ringing a bell on the table, frustrated) Please, let's lower our voices!
Lloyd and Caroline: FUCK YOU!