The Glasses

Jerry:I moved back in with my parents. Best decision I ever made! I get three meals a day, my laundry is done, and I don't have to worry about paying rent. Plus, my mom still sets out my clothes for me in the morning. I'm living the dream!

Jerry:Moving back with your parents is like being paroled. You have to check in, you can't go out after a certain time, and if you mess up, you're back inside.

Jerry:The parole board says, 'We're releasing you back into society, but you'll be under constant supervision. Any violation and you're back in.'

Jerry:My mother says the exact same thing when I come home.

Jerry:You know what's weird? Going back to your childhood bedroom as an adult. You're standing there, and suddenly you realize you're bigger than your parents now. I'm literally looking down at them. And I'm thinking, 'Why was I afraid of you people? I could hold you both right now like a couple of throw pillows.'

George:My parents are normal! Your parents are the crazy ones. My father wears sneakers to the pool. Pool sneakers. Not regular sneakers - pool sneakers.

George:My mother has never made that laugh. She's never made the laugh where you're trying not to laugh but you can't help it. She's never made the laugh where something is so funny you can't even make a sound, you just shake. She's never made that laugh where you start laughing at someone else laughing. She's never made the laugh where you laugh so hard you cry. She's never made any of those laughs!

Jerry:Did your mother ever even smirk?

George:Once. In 1987. It was a good day.

Jerry:I can lend you the money.

George:You'd lend me money? What's the catch?

Jerry:No catch. I'm happy to do it.

George:Lending money is like sex.

Jerry:How is lending money like sex?

George:It's awkward afterwards. You can't look each other in the eye.

George:You know, I've been thinking about moving in with you.

Jerry:What? No, no, no. That's not happening.

George:Why not? We're friends. It would be great!

Jerry:George, there's no way. I have rules about the bathroom.

George:Rules? What kind of rules?

Jerry:You can only use the toilet on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

George:What am I supposed to do the other five days?

Jerry:That's your problem.

Frank Costanza:You're moving back in? What about the paint job? I just had it done!

Frank Costanza:I got a joke for you.

Jerry:Tell it to the audience.

Jerry:I don't eat bologna. Nobody my age eats bologna.

Mrs. Costanza:Take the sandwiches home.

Jerry:I don't want the sandwiches.

Mrs. Costanza:Take them anyway.

Jerry:She talks so low, I can barely hear her. I'm always going 'What? What?' It's like dating a hostage situation.

Kramer:So what's the problem?

Jerry:The problem is I can't hear what she's saying! She's a low-talker!

Kramer:A low-talker?

Jerry:Yes! A low-talker. That's what I'm calling her. She's a low-talker.

Jerry:So what are you saying?

Leslie:I'm saying... you know...

Jerry:No, I don't know. That's why I'm asking.

Leslie:Well, it's just that...

Jerry:Just that what?

Leslie:You know what I mean.

Jerry:I really don't.

Leslie:Yes, you do.

Kramer:It's a shirt that's puffy. You know, like a pirate would wear.

Jerry:A puffy shirt?

Kramer:Yeah, with the big sleeves, and it just sort of billows out.

Kramer:It's a pirate shirt. The sleeves are a little puffy, it's got this big collar, and it's got all these — it's very comfortable. And it's perfect for just lazing around.

Jerry:Isn't that just a regular shirt?

Kramer:No, no, no. It's a pirate shirt! You see, the thing about it is it's very open, so it gives you a lot of freedom. And when you're wearing it, you feel like you can do anything — you know, you can go out and just do anything. You can be anybody.

Jerry:But it's a woman's shirt.

Kramer:Well, it's got a man's profile. It's very... it's very... continental.

Frank Costanza:Look at this, George. A real silver dollar. You don't see these anymore.

George Costanza:Dad, I'm trying to eat.

Frank Costanza:I had a whole collection of silver dollars. Beautiful coins. I kept them in a jar.

Frank Costanza:I couldn't spend them. They were too beautiful to spend.

Frank Costanza:My wife said, 'Frank, spend the silver dollars.' I said, 'I can't! I have a phobia about it!'

George:Oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Hand Model Agent:You! You spilled my bag!

George:I was just trying to get away from my parents.

Hand Model Agent:I don't care about your parents! Look at this mess!

Hand Model Agent:These hands... they're exquisite.

George:What?

Hand Model Agent:Your hands. They're perfect. I've never seen hands like these before.

George:Really?

Hand Model Agent:You should be a hand model.

George:Your hands are like a woman's hands. They're very delicate. These are not the hands of a man who does anything.

George:Look at these hands. These are man hands. I have man hands. You have these little, delicate, lily white hands. A manicurist's dream.

George:The veins, the bones, the knuckles - everything about your hands screams 'I file things for a living.' These are hands that have never known a hard day's work.

George:You know, I've been thinking about this hand modeling thing. My hands are perfect - smooth, unblemished, excellent bone structure.

George:The thing is, I've never actually done anything to maintain them. I don't moisturize, I don't exercise them, I just... let them be.

George:And that's the secret. That's what all these other guys don't understand. They're out there trying too hard, working their hands, stressing them out.

George:But not me. My laziness - it's kept my hands young. Fresh. Natural. It's my greatest asset.

Kramer:George, I got something for you.

George:What? What is it?

Kramer:It's a little something to keep your hands warm.

George:My hands? What's wrong with my hands?

Kramer:Nothing, I just thought you might like these.

George:Like what? LIKE WHAT?! Are you saying my hands are in danger?! Is there some kind of hand epidemic I don't know about?!

Elaine:I want to see your hands.

George:My hands? Why do you want to see my hands?

Elaine:I just want to see them.

George:Well, you can't just look at them whenever you want. There are rules. You have to call ahead. You have to schedule an appointment. And you can't touch them — you can only look through the glass.

Elaine:Your hands are like... soft butter.

George:They are?

Elaine:Warm, buttery hands. Like two little croissants.

Jerry:Why are you wearing oven mitts?

George:I'm not taking any chances. My hands are my livelihood.

Jerry:Your hands are your livelihood? What do you do, play piano?

George:No, but I could at any moment. I like to keep my options open.

Jerry:Wait, what are you talking about? I agreed to wear the shirt on the show.

Kramer:No, no, no. You agreed to wear it for a year.

Jerry:A year?! I didn't agree to a year!

Kramer:It's right here in the contract.

Jerry:I didn't read the contract! I just signed it!

Kramer:Well, you should have read it.

Jerry:You told me it was just for the appearance!

Jerry:I nodded. I just nodded and said 'yeah, yeah, that sounds great.' I have no idea what he was talking about. But you know what? That's the universal experience of men. We nod. We don't understand anything, but we nod and smile and say 'yeah, I'm with you.'

Kramer:I'm gonna be the first pirate in the world!

Jerry:Kramer, there were pirates before you.

Estelle:I always said you had beautiful hands.

George:You never said that.

Estelle:I said you had milky white hands.

George:Milky white? What kind of compliment is that?

Estelle:It was a compliment!

George:Milky white hands? Like a glass of milk? That's disgusting!

Estelle:You're twisting my words!

George:I'm not twisting anything. You said milky white. Those are your words.

Estelle:Here, use these scissors.

George:Scissors? You're giving me scissors? Do you know how many people are injured by scissors every year?

Estelle:George, I'm sorry.

George:Sorry? Sorry doesn't stop the bleeding, Ma! Sorry doesn't reattach a finger!

Estelle:I said I'm sorry!

George:Well your sorry is worthless to me! These scissors are a death trap!

George:It's not a lie if you believe it.

George:The epidermis is showing.

Kramer:This is the shirt of the future! Mark my words, in five years, everyone's gonna be wearing shirts like this. It's a comfortable shirt, it's a functional shirt. This is the shirt of tomorrow!

Jerry:Why do they call it the Count of Monte Cristo? Why not the Duke of Monte Cristo? Why does he have to be a count?

Elaine:Because that's what he is in the book.

Jerry:Well, maybe he should've worked his way up. Start as a viscount, then become an earl, then a count. You can't just start at count.

Elaine:You look like you're about to swing from a chandelier.

Hand Model Agent:You know, I've been in this business a long time. I've seen a lot of hands. But I've never seen hands like the hands of Ray McKigney.

Hand Model Agent:Ray McKigney is a name that commands respect in the hand modeling community.

Hand Model Agent:Ray McKigney's hands are the gold standard. The Michelangelo of hands.

Hand Model Agent:His hands were insured for $5 million. He was the top hand model in the business.

Hand Model Agent:Then one day, he went out and had a little accident. He was making love to his girlfriend, and he... he was a little too rough, and he broke both his wrists.

Hand Model Agent:He was never the same after that. The scars, the stiffness... he couldn't model anymore.

Hand Model Agent:That's when he started doing it himself. One hand, then the other. He couldn't stop.

Hand Model Agent:Now he's just sitting at home, doing it all day long. His career is over. His life is over.

Hand Model Agent:So anyway, the Cub Scouts were on a camping trip, and they were feeding him...

Jerry:Feeding him what?

Hand Model Agent:...cubed steak.

George:I won! I'm out! I'm out of The Contest!

Bryant Gumbel:That's a nice shirt, Jerry.

Jerry Seinfeld:Thanks.

Bryant Gumbel:You know, if you're going to dress like a pirate, you really should commit to it. Get an eye patch, a hook for a hand.

Jerry Seinfeld:I'm not dressing like a pirate.

Bryant Gumbel:Well, you're halfway there.

Jerry:I'm on national television and I'm telling the truth about a shirt. What am I doing?

Jerry:It's a terrible shirt. It's a horrible shirt. Nobody should buy this shirt.

Jerry:I'm sitting here on live TV destroying a man's business because I can't lie.

Leslie:

Jerry:You know, I could actually hear you when you yelled.

Restaurant Patron:Nice shirt.

George:Oh yeah? Well nice face.

George:And nice pants. And nice shoes. Everything about you is nice. You're a nice guy.

George:The nicest guy I've ever seen.

Hand Model Agent:Your hands are destroyed. Just like McKigney's career.

Jerry:So I'm up there doing my thing, and this guy yells out, 'Hey, where's your boat?'

Heckler:You said you'd have a boat!

Jerry:I never said anything about a boat! What are you talking about?

Heckler:Last week you said you were getting a sailboat!

Jerry:That was someone else! That was a completely different person!

Jerry:And now I'm standing there trying to do my material while this guy is essentially conducting a nautical audit of my personal life.

Kramer:Hey, that's my shirt!

Homeless Person:Spare some change?

Homeless Person:Ahoy! Spare some change for a man of the sea?

Jerry:You ever mishear someone and then just blame them for it? Like, someone says something to you, you don't hear it right, and instead of saying 'I'm sorry, what?' you just get mad at them. 'Why are you mumbling? Speak up!' No, I wasn't listening. But it's easier to blame you than to admit I wasn't paying attention.

Jerry:That's the fantasy right there. That's what we all want to do. Just go through life blaming everyone else for our own incompetence. Someone says something you don't understand? 'That makes no sense! You're an idiot!' No, I'm an idiot. But I'm not gonna say that.

Jerry:You know what I love? When someone mishears you, and then gets angry at YOU for what they heard. Like it's your fault they have bad ears. 'What did you say about my mother?' 'I didn't say anything about your mother!' 'Oh, so now you're calling me a liar!'

Jerry:It's the perfect crime. They misunderstand you, you defend yourself, and somehow you're the bad guy. I could go around saying whatever I want. 'You're a moron.' 'What?' 'I said... you're a Mormon! I didn't know!' 'Oh, okay, sorry.'