Debra: She is pretty. I can see why you made such a big deal about her.
Ray: Me? I didn't make a big deal about her. You did.
Debra: I made..?
Ray: Yeah. You're the one who put me in the ocean and killed yourself. Then you kept me out there for seven months, a lonely sailor. You made me do it. You made me sleep with her. [to Angelina] Oh, hello.
Ally: Daddy's sweating.

Ray: Who? Who do you look at? All right, look, if it helps, I'm dead and you're a sailor.
Debra: Okay, well... There's that Chuck Wilson.
Ray: Chuck Wilson? At my paper? The columnist?
Debra: Yeah. Yeah. You know, his picture is right across from yours and he is kind of cute.
Ray: Wilson? Oh, God.
Debra: Yeah.
Ray: He's a fat load.
Debra: Well, he doesn't look fat in his picture.
Ray: That's from the head up. I'm telling you, from the neck down, he's a carnival. Wilson, God. I thought you were going to say Bon Jovi or something.
Debra: Oh, right. Like I'm ever going to meet him.
Ray: Well, you sure as hell aren't going to meet Chuck Wilson now.