Marie: Really, Raymond, I would think you of all people wouldn't want your daughter to bully boys.
Ray: What are you talking about?
Marie: Seventh grade, Tammy Gellis gave you that black eye.
Ray: Oh my God. I forgot all about that.
Debra: A girl beat you up? A girl named Tammy?
Marie: Tammy socked him and then took away his RC Cola.
Debra: Oh.
Marie: He was so scared to go back to school, he didn't even want to ride the bus.
Ray: Okay, Ma, all right.
Debra: Oh, poor Raymond. Oh, that Tammy sounds like a mean little girl.
Ray: For your information, she wasn't so little, okay? Her nickname was Tank.
Debra: Yeah, right.
Ray: She sued the town to play football.

Debra: Wow, how uncrackable.
Ray: It's a good code.
Debra: No no, it is. It's not at all e-lam.
Ray: It's not lame.
Debra: Sorry. That's okay. Good night, my little ass-jack.
Ray: That's- That's not even how you do it, okay? It's not the whole word. It's just the letter. It's s-jacka.

Ray: How could you do that, Ma? Huh? How could you go into my journal?
Marie: I wanted to know what was in there.
Ray: It was private! There was stuff in there I didn't want anyone to know about!
Frank: Like when he glued bottle caps to his socks because he wanted to be a tap dancer?
Ray: Shut up, Dad.
Marie: Oh, don't be angry, dear. I read it for your own good.
Ray: Yeah yeah, sure you did.
Marie: For your information, I just wanted to know that you were okay. That you weren't on drugs.
Frank: You know dancers, always trying to keep their weight down.