Johnny Bravo: Woah, momma.
Gorgeous woman: What kind of idiot are you?
Johnny Bravo: I don't know, what kinds are there?
Johnny Bravo: Now remember, I do my best work when I'm being worshipped as a god.
Kid: [shouts] Look, Mommy! That guy's looking at pictures of almost naked men!
[the whole store stares at Johnny]
Johnny Bravo: This is a men's fitness magazine, I want to look *like* this, not at this... I've got nothin' to be ashamed of!
[walks up to cashier ashamed, and drops change on the counter]
Johnny Bravo: ... TV Guide.
Johnny Bravo: Don't touch the hair!
Johnny Bravo: Hey, Foxy Mama. You smell kinda pretty, wanna smell me? Hoohah!
Johnny Bravo: Great Scott. My pizza-sense is tingling.
Johnny Bravo: You know, you'd think a person with that much hate in her heart wouldn't gravitate towards the service industry.
Pops: Ehh, e-everyone stay calm... because we're all doomed!
Momma: Here's your money, Susie. Thanks to you, everything is back to normal.
Mongo: Or is it?
Johnny Bravo: Sweet. Bring on the Danish chicks and cream soda.
Johnny Bravo: Mama mia. That's a spicy meatball.
Suzy: I hope this doesn't go on my permanent record.
Pops: Fetch me the Fez of Forgetfulness.