How are we supposed to know what's going on?
It's all Greek to me.
Most scenes together: Toula & Gus Portokalos (5), Toula & Nick (4), Toula & Ian (3)
How are we supposed to know what's going on?
It's all Greek to me.
My dad has been saying that to me since I was fifteen. Because nice Greek girls are supposed to do three things in life: marry Greek boys, make Greek babies, and feed everyone until the day we die.
I'm taking a pottery class.
Hi?
Hi. Sorry. My brain...switched off, you know. You ever have one of those days? Going along and then...rrrrrrRRRRRRRRrrrrrr. Here I am, standing here, your own private Greek statue.
Could I, uh, get some more coffee?
Sure. [pours Ian a cup and then walks off]
No, my Nikki. She was supposed to come over and curl my hair.
I had to go to Greek school, where I learned valuable lessons such as: "If Nick has one goat and Maria has nine, how soon will they marry?"
My dad believed in two things: That Greeks should educate non-Greeks about being Greek and every ailment from psoriasis to poison ivy can be cured with Windex.
Nice Greek girls who don't find a husband work in the family restaurant. So here I am, day after day, year after year, thirty and way past my expiration date.
When I was growing up, I knew I was different. The other girls were blonde and delicate. And I was a swarthy six-year-old with sideburns.
Now, you are family. Okay. All my life, I had a lump at the back of my neck, right here. Always, a lump. Then I started menopause and the lump got bigger from the "hormonees." It started to grow. So I go to the doctor, and he did the bio... the b... the... the bios... the... b... the "bobopsy." Inside the lump he found teeth and a spinal cord. Yes. Inside the lump was my twin. [Ian's parents are horrified. Voula grabs a drink and toasts.] Hupah!!