A bored suburban housewife, seeking adventure to her life, accidentally gets hit on the head, wakes up with amnesia, and is mistaken for a free-spirited New York City drifter named Susan.

Cigarette Girl: Susan! My God, we thought you were dead.
Susan: No, just in New Jersey.
Gary: Are you a lesbian? Leslie says that nine out of ten prostitutes are lesbians.
Roberta: Gary, you're not listening to me. I'm not a prostitute or a lesbian!
Leslie: I can't believe the two of you are eating in the middle of a crisis like this.
Gary: We're nervous, what do you want...
Leslie: Then take a Valium like a normal person.
Leslie: I can't believe Roberta's a prostitute.
Gary: Roberta's not a prostitute.
Leslie: I saw this thing on television about this woman who turned tricks in the city from nine until noon, then went shopping all afternoon. It was years before her husband found out about it. Oh, my God, I've heard that four out of five prostitutes are lesbians.
Gary: Don't you think I would know if my wife was a lesbian?
Leslie: Why? You didn't know she was a prostitute!
Gary: Susan! What are you doing?
Susan: I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?
Gary: You said you were going to leave!
Susan: All right, good news first. Roberta's not working with the greaseball.
Gary: My wife just got picked up on the lower east side escaping from her gun-toting pimp.
Susan: He's not a pimp. Problem is, he's probably going to try to kill her because he thinks she's me.
Gary: I didn't know about all this.
Susan: Between you and me, how much do you really know about Roberta? Why didn't you tell me she read the personals? We could have settled this yesterday.
Gary: She read them all the time. I didn't think...
Susan: Yeah, well, fortunately for everyone, I'm here and I'm thinking.
Susan: Good goin' stranger!
Susan: [answering Gary Glass's phone] Glass house!
Susan: Roberta kept a diary. Great stuff.
[Reading]
Susan: "Couldn't sleep. Went into kitchen. Gary came in, turned on light. Gary left. Finished birthday cake." Pages of it. It's got to be a cover, nobody's life could be this boring!
Gary: You shouldn't be reading that, it's personal.
Susan: Yeah, well it's not about her, it's about me.
[Reading]
Susan: "He's looking for Susan again. This is the fifth ad he's run. Why does he want to see her so badly? Who is she?" And here's my picture.
Prostitute: [Seeing Roberta after she gets in the Police car] So how do the birds work?
Gary: What are you wearing?
Roberta: A jacket. It used to belong to Jimi Hendrix.
Gary: You bought a used jacket? What are we, poor?
Crystal: I'm ready to quit this dump, I really am. Ray won't let me wear my glasses on stage, then Ian gets pissed because I can't do any of the tricks, I mean I'm only legally blind. I could understand if I wanted to wear my glasses on my tits, but nobody in this dump is looking at my face anyway.
Dez: Some guy grabbed you?
Roberta: Yes, he was after me. Well, not me exactly. He was after Susan, who he thinks I am, but I'm not!
Roberta: Here it is, a message from Jim.
[Reading from newspaper]
Roberta: "Desperately seeking Susan. Meet me, four o'clock, Battery Park. Keep the faith. Love, Jim."
Leslie: Jim? Susan? Do you know these people?
Roberta: They send messages through the personal ads, that's how they hook up. Last year she was in Mexico City, then Los Angeles, now New York. Desperate. I love that word.
Leslie: Everybody I know is desperate, except for you.
Roberta: I'm desperate.
Leslie: Ha!
Roberta: Well, sort of.
Gary: Roberta can't be a prostitute she doesn't even like sex that much. It's impossible.
Jim: You were with this guy?
Susan: He was breathing when I left.

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