My only question for John Cusack at the moment.
"Would you ask Tom Petty to star opposite you in this?"

Yes, Victor, I ground our enjoyment to a screeching halt so I could pull back the curtain for her and deconstruct a piece of populist entertainment until it was a bloodless joyless husk we could then sit in front of for the remainder of its running time.

Nope. Wetris.

It's just an honorary title, on account of all my molestin.'

Well, until they see that random baked bean in your pubes, anyway.

That was a waste of cash long before this revelation, Cybernetic.

Last night I used my hyperglaciation to explore your mom's Neoproterozoic Era.

You and me, we're done professionally.

Shark-jumpin' bastard.
The Fonz' character badly misled my young mind in several crucial areas during my development, including but not limited to a shockingly ill-informed idea of how bikers act, and at what point someone becomes age-inappropriate to hang around a bunch of high-schoolers just because he's got a…

I continue to hold my breath…
…for Guitar Hero: The Polyphonic Spree.

I showed The King of Kong to my lady…
…which not only gives me a reason to type my favorite subject heading of the year, but also allows me to reminisce on how enthralled we both were.

That's So Raven!

Well, if you insist…

I hate to be the churl who keeps bringing up the games/art debate, but those games which can engender this level of intercourse (heh) on a messageboard seem to render the debate moot, for me.

I hear you. Seeing the first previews for the film, I had about three-tenths of a second to think how interesting it looked and how much of a departure it seemed for Mr. Sandler, before the derisive snickers rose from the sideways-ballcap-barbed-wire-bicep-tattoo contingent in the theatre, for whom Billy Madison…

"Long Tall Sally… she got everything that Papa John need, oh baby… ohhh baby…"

I'm about to guam.

Jeez, OranjeMonkey. No one wants to hear that Punch Drunk Love got you hard.

Cont'd from above
— Memento: The last night that Leonard uses his wife's book and hairbrush, with the callgirl, was the moment that I began to genuinely hurt for him. It never lessened. I wanted to punch Joe Pantoliano so badly after the end (beginning?) of this flick.

A Few I Haven't Seen Mentioned in 960 Comments Thus Far.
Sorry if any of these show up, but I tried to be thorough and only pick ones that no one else has said already, lest this become the Field of Dreams Appreciation Board: