Michael: I'm gonna give you the cash, but, in return, I get to ask you for a favor sometime.
Gob: My gut is telling me "No," but my gut is also very hungry. All right. I'll do it.

Michael: You headed over to your girlfriend's?
Buster: Yeah. She's down again.
Narrator: Buster's girlfriend, Lucille Austero, suffers from chronic vertigo which she has been trying to fight without the use of medication.
Buster: And her nausea's gotten really bad. It's really been difficult on us. It's definitely taking its toll.
Michael: Well, you know you're free to go. It's not like you made a commitment to this woman.
Buster: Well, I didn't make a "commitment." I did refer to it as our nausea.
Michael: Mm.
Buster: But you know, that's when we were goin' at it really hot and heavy.
Michael: Well, now it's my nausea.

Narrator: Later, Lucille stopped by the model home Later, Lucille stopped by the model home to enlist her daughter's help cataloging her valuables.
Lindsay: I can't.
Lucille: Why not?
Lindsay: Because I'm... Don't want to. Maybe I don't feel like being criticized around-the-clock.
Lucille: I don't criticize you. And if you're worried about criticism, sometimes a diet is the best defense.

Maeby: Oh, hey, Gangie.
Lucille: Hi.
Maeby: D-plus. Sign this.
Lindsay: This is a D-minus.
Maeby: Well, either way, it's above a "D," right?
Lucille: Another world-beater.
Narrator: And Lindsay realized she needed to take a firmer hand with her daughter.
Lindsay: I'm not signing this.
Maeby: Fine. I will. Is "Lindsay" with an "A" or an "E"?

Lindsay: Okay, I know you got a "crocodile" in spelling, but this has gone too far. I hate to say it, but Michael might be right. You need to learn a little discipline.
Maeby: Hmm. Nope, that doesn't feel right.
Lindsay: No, no, no. I'm telling you. You are now punished. I punish thee.
Maeby: Are you serious? What could you possibly come up with that would punish me?
Lindsay: Oh, I have to come up with another thing?
Lucille: Oh, Lindsay, before I go, I just have one word for you. "Sleeves."
Lindsay: [to Maeby] You're going to spend the day working for your grandmother.

Narrator: Buster, meanwhile, was still worried about Lucille 2 whose condition seemed to be worsening.
Buster: You okay? How's your nausea? [Lucille groans] "Our." I mean, our our nausea.
Narrator: He remembered a study he took part in on medical marijuana and its effects on nausea. The subject took the drug in the form of a T.H.C. pill. Nausea was then induced with a day at the carnival which is what attracted Buster to the experiment in the first place. Buster was found two days later trying to eat his way through this enormous plaster donut. So Buster went to the toughest, most streetwise kid he knew.

George Michael: Tell your friends.
Buster: Hey, Nephew. I was looking for you at your home.
George Michael: Well, Dad told me to take the day off, so I decided to come into work.
Buster: Oh. Listen, I thought maybe you could help me get some weed. It's not for me. It's for Lucille 2, my girlfriend.
George Michael: She's your girlfriend? Dad said you were her nurse.

Narrator: When he saw the yacht was empty George Michael as he'd been trained to do since childhood left a note. Back at the model home Gob showed Michael the note he'd found at the dock.
Michael: No. This can't be from my son.
Gob: Well, it is his handwriting. Plus he left me $200. $100. I accidentally said $200.
Michael: I don't know- This is impossible. Why would he do this?
Gob: I know. I was shocked. Really, a hundred dollars. You can't get good weed for a hundred bucks.
Anyway, here you go. Now we are even on you paying off that Hot Cops thing. Might just be a few stems.
Michael: Get that out of this house. What's the matter with you?
Gob: Maybe you should save the lectures for your son if he can remember them.

George Sr.: You wanna teach George Michael a lesson?
Michael: Yes, I do, and it's gotta stick. He's getting into drugs, Dad, and he's lying to me.
George Sr.: That doesn't sound like the boy.
Michael: I know. It's my fault. I've been pushing him too hard. It's just... Dumb, dumb. Dumb, Michael.
George Sr.: Hey, hey.
Michael: Dumb.
George Sr.: Shh, shh, shh. I forgive you.
Michael: I don't want your forgiveness. I want the guy with the one arm and the fake blood. J. Walter Weatherman how do I get ahold of him?
George Sr.: He's, uh, dead. You killed him when you left the door open with the air conditioner running.

Narrator: Lindsay went to see how her own attempt at parental discipline was coming along.
Lindsay: So, having fun? Where'd you get that brooch?
Maeby: Gangie. Nice, huh?
Lindsay: That was supposed to be for me. She was my au pair. I'm the one who cleared my throat and pointed to the laundry room. Ma! You know I wanted that.
Lucille: I know, but it's an elephant and I didn't want to invite the comparison.