Debra: You know what, Ray? It's a private matter. And my parents, unlike yours, don't feel the need to inflict their lives on everybody else.
Ray: Or, maybe they're a little embarrassed, because as it turns out, they're not so perfect.
Debra: Yeah, or maybe they're just trying to work out their problems before their marriage degenerates into a screaming match like your parents. Arguing about how deep a pan is before it's a pot. "If it's three inches, it's a pot! Everybody knows that, Marie!" "If you can't boil an egg in it, it's not a pot, you jackass!"
Ray: Hey, either way, your perfect little Connecticut "Oh, make sure you cut the crust off my cucumber sandwich"-parents are frauds!
Debra: You listen. If my parents lit an orphanage on fire on Christmas Eve, they wouldn't be as bad as your parents!

Marie: Is everything all right, dear?
Lois: Oh, he is just impossible.
Marie: Go on.
Debra: Mom? Are you-
Marie: It's all right, dear. We're talking.
Lois: I am so tired of my opinion counting for nothing! Everything has to be his way! I swear, ever since he retired, it's not like I'm his wife anymore, I'm his employee, and it's all I can do to keep from strangling him.
Marie: I feel so close to you.
Lois: Do you know he makes me iron his jeans? He insists that they have a crease.
Marie: At least he can wear jeans. The last time I got a pair for Frank, it was from the maternity jeans. And I told him they were just stretchy. [Marie and Lois hug]
Debra: Oh, my God.

Lois: Oh, yes. You'd like for everyone to see that, wouldn't you?
Warren: What? All of a sudden, discussing our sex life is verboten?
Lois: Ech! That face!
Warren: What face?
Lois: Your language face! Verboten? Oosbach?
Warren: I never make that face!
Lois: You have a face for everything. Here is your how-is-my-hair face. Oh, and my favorite, "We're out of vermouth?"