Harry: So, uh, Eddie, you want a soda or something? You know, it might not be too cold. I think there's something wrong with the refrigerator. You're not Eddie.
Mascha: No. Eddie gave me the shop.
Harry: Why?
Mascha: Because I asked for it.
Harry: Reasonable. So, uh, would you like a soda?
Mascha: Thanks. I like it when men give me things.
Harry: Me, too. Sometimes the barber gives me a lollipop.
Mascha: Did you go to the barber today?
Harry: No.
Mascha: Did you?
Harry: Yes. [hands her his lollipop]

Dick: [v.o.] High Commander's log, January 15. Gabriella has given me a photo of her. I'm trying to determine which angle will be most visible to Dr. Albright to best mock her for having broken up with me.

Sally: Oh, hello.
Gabriella: Why does your wife always bother us?
Sally: No, I'm not his wife. I'm his sister, and, uh, right now, we really need to have a little brother/sister chat.
Dick: Come on, Sally, anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Gabriella.
Sally: Okay, um... you know those hemorrhoid suppositories you always buy-
Dick: All right, in the kitchen! In the kitchen!

Sally: I think I finally figured out what's going on. These women are part of some strange, organized coven. Their goal is to dominate the world. I heard them, Dick. They're dangerous.
Dick: You mean to tell me that sizzling Siberian sex kitten in there doesn't really love me?
Sally: No.
Dick: But is only using me in a plot to dominate the whole world?
Sally: Yes!
Dick: [laughs] That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. She's my girlfriend.
Gabriella: [o.s.] Dick!
Dick: [speaks Russian] [exits]
Sally: Well, I guess it's up to me to get to the bottom of this. And if I have to smash Dick's fantasy and leave him a blubbering idiot, then all the better.

Mascha: Sometimes I feel like such a failure.
Harry: Ooh, why?
Mascha: Harry, I have to tell you something. I'm not from around here.
Harry: I'm not from around here, either.
Mascha: I'm not like other women.
Harry: I'm not like other guys.
Mascha: I can't tell you why.
Harry: I can't tell you why, either.
Mascha: We have so much in common.
Harry: We do.

Sally: [v.o.] Lieutenant's log. Yes, I have one, too.

Harry: Look, I know how you like things. And so, um I made you something. Not real gold, macaroni. I spray-painted it.
Mascha: This has absolutely no market value. And yet I'm touched. You're either really cheap or really deep.
Harry: I'd like to think that I am both.

Tommy: Wait. Sally, you can't go. You have to make us dinner.
Sally: Uh, you have to buy your own dinner. Um, here's a grocery list. It's very important that you read it so you know what you have to buy.
Chloe: Let's move!
Sally: Even if you're not hungry, it's a good read, that grocery list.
Dick: I heard you, Miss Pronunciation.
Sally: The list, Dick! Read the list!
Tommy: Well, shall we go grocery shopping?
Dick: No, no. That's Sally's job. No, I think the most prudent thing for us to do now is just to, um, sit here and wait for the girls to come back.

Dick: [v.o.] High Commander's log, January 18. Like locusts, they came en masse without warning. Then, in a cloud of sparkly powder and perfume [sighs] They were gone.

Dick: Oh, my God! Do you realize what this is?
Harry: It's a multiphase micro transmitter and rose-pink blush in one!
Dick: This planet doesn't have that technology.
Tommy: Holy cow! We weren't just dating leggy babes.
Harry: We were dating leggy babes from beyond.
Dick: Oh, my God! We're aliens ourselves and they fooled us! What chance do regular humans have?