Robert: All right. Raymond, you got 100.
Ray: Ah, a 100.
Marie: Oh, a perfect score! That's my Raymond. Thank God you got your mother's brains.
Robert: 100 is average.
Marie: Average? [to Frank] He got that from you.

Linda: Why is Ray so depressed? It was just a test.
Debra: Well, I guess seeing in black and white that I'm smarter just blew out his self-esteem. I mean, I'm trying to make him feel better, but nothing works.
Linda: Oh, come on. You had to know you were smarter.
Debra: Oh, of course. But I still feel guilty.

Debra: You know what? I have been holding this in all day: There is no way that you are smarter than me.
Ray: Smarter than I.
Debra: All right, what's the name of the 18th-century poet who wrote A Modest Proposal, huh? Huh?
Ray: Oh, yeah? What's the name of the Twilight Zone where the astronauts meet the giant lady?
Debra: Okay, who's the first woman to win a Nobel Prize?
Ray: How much does Mickey Rooney weigh on the moon?
Debra: What's a petit four?
Ray: What's a wedgie?
Debra: When you first met me, was my hair long or short?
Ray: I know one thing for sure. It was blonde. Oh, that wasn't you. Well, I broke up with her then to go out with you. I'll just sleep on the couch.

Ray: What are you telling- You made up the scores?
Robert: Yeah.
Debra: And then you switched them around to see what would happen to us.
Robert: Yeah. Did you turn on each other?
Debra: Robert, we've been fighting for three days! I got to get that down. I got to write a five-page paper.
Ray: I had to sleep on the couch last night.
Robert: That's good. I can't believe this worked.
Ray: You know, Robert, you can't do this to people.
Robert: Okay, wait, a little slower.
Ray: Wait, wait a minute. Let me get this straight. So I'm not smarter than her?
Robert: I'd be very surprised.

Marie: Oh, you see? They're not afraid of taking the test.
Frank: I don't want my brain measured. It's gotten me this far.
Marie: For some reason, your father has something to hide.
Frank: I don't believe in tests. All they do is deal with book smarts. They don't measure street smarts.
Marie: And you're street-smart?
Frank: I am very street-smart.
Marie: [laughs] Did I ever tell you about the time he bought seafood out of the back of a derelict's car?
Frank: He was legit.
Marie: Oh. Oh, he had the prices tattooed on his body.
Frank: One bad mussel in a whole bucket.
Marie: I threw up for three weeks so you could save 79 cents?
Frank: They were delicious. You could taste the ocean.
Marie: I'm still tasting it.

Debra: Well, all three kids are down. Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty I am free at last. Now it's going to be all about me. Me, me, me. How's it going, Fluffy?
Ray: Come on, what is this health insurance? Matching the doctor bills to the worksheets. Who paid who, what, when. No, this has to be woman's work.
Debra: Oh, great. Well, I'll just do some men's work: Watch a little TV and scratch myself.

Debra: I was thinking, that health insurance has to be in tomorrow. Did you finish it yet?
Ray: Health insurance? You know, I want to. I want to. But I've just been, you know so down. Maybe you should-
Debra: What?
Ray: Well, this is very important, and I don't think we should trust it to somebody like me. [eats ice cream] "Mmm, fudgy."
Debra: All right. That is it. You know, at first, I felt bad because you were so depressed. But now I think you're really milking it here.
Ray: What do you mean?
Debra: Oh, what, you don't think I see through this?
Ray: What do you mean?
Debra: I don't believe you, Ray. Making me feel guilty, you little weasel.
Ray: Oh, I'm depressed again.
Debra: Listen, do the health insurance, you big fake. "Mmm, Fudgy!" Give me that. [takes ice cream]
Ray: You know, I read that the happiest marriages are the ones where the man is smarter.
Debra: Guess who wrote that? Get the door. It's that big wooden thing with the knob that's not your head.

Robert: Everything all right? I thought I saw an argument.
Ray: Stop stalking us.
Robert: This wouldn't be about the... Would it?
Ray: No.
Debra: Yeah, we don't care about that.
Robert: Oh, good, because I want you to know that I think I might have made a mistake with your test result. Jumbled them.
Ray: What- What do you mean?
Robert: Well, Raymond, you were the one who scored one standard deviation higher than Debra.
Debra: What?
Robert: Good night. [exits]
Ray: Well, now it's a happy marriage. [Debra slams the ice cream in Ray's crotch] Fudgy.

Ray: Oh, no.
Debra: What is it?
Ray: I was daydreaming and now I can't remember if I shampooed my hair or not.
Debra: So? Do it again.
Ray: I can't because if I washed already and do it again, my hair is gonna be too fluffy.
Debra: So don't do it again.
Ray: Well, what if I didn't do it? Then it's gonna be too oily. [off Debra's look] What? This is important.
Debra: Oh, yeah, it's a real crisis. You want me to call in sick for you today, Ray?
Ray: Oh, I'm weird? How about the time you didn't want to go outside because you thought your haircut made your butt look fat? I'm the weird one?
[After Debra turns the tap and sneaks out of the bathroom, Ray screams and falls out of the shower.]

Ray: Look at this. I can't make that number out. That could be an "i," could be a "4." This will have to wait until tomorrow. What's on, honey?
Debra: Come on. You haven't worked on that at all.
Ray: You're missing the point. The point is I will rub your feet.
Debra: You've got to get this done.
Ray: With lotions. Come on. I'm not even a foot person. In fact, the whole idea of rubbing feet makes me sick.
Debra: Just shut up and rub. That's tickling! [laughs] Stop, that's tickling!