Marie: No, sweetheart, both my boys are gorgeous. In their own way. But I think that Robert sort of takes after me a bit more, whereas you favor your father.
Frank: [enters in his underwear] Marie. Marie, what's the difference between a bunion and a corn?
Marie: Do you know that your son here doesn't think he's good-looking?
Frank: What do you mean, you're not good-looking? You look like me.
Marie: There you go.

Amy: So, you're a police sergeant. Your wife must get worried sick about you.
Robert: No, not as sick as she used to. We're divorced.
Amy: I'm sorry.
Robert: No, no. It's all for the best. I'm much happier now than I used to be.
Amy: I just have so much respect for people in your line of work.
Robert: No, it's just hours of boredom interrupted by moments of unbelievable horror.

Marie: Well, I'm glad he had a date, at least. I mean, he's been moping around here ever since the divorce. I mean, such a waste. Oh, he's such a good-looking boy.
Ray: So, you think so, too?
Marie: Of course. Who doesn't? Everybody used to say what a beautiful boy your brother was.
Ray: What about me?
Marie: Well, you're adorable.
Ray: Adorable. Like a hamster.
Marie: No. Like a person. But, oh, your brother used to turn heads. He always had that sort of old-fashioned, movie star look like Valentino.
Ray: Oh, I see. So, he's Valentino and I'm Fievel.