Tim: Jill, I can't work with this noise.
Jill: How can you call that noise? [sings along to the opera music]
Tim: That's not noise, that's a proctology exam.

Tim: Jill, what is this?
Jill: This is a garage-use timetable. Since we can't share the garage together. I thought we should share it separately.
Tim: Honey, I don't have any time on there.
Jill: I gave you plenty of spaces.
Tim: Oh, like between two and three on Tuesdays? I work.
Jill: Oh, that's right. Well, I'll just take that space too.
Tim: [faint chuckle] I love this, between 12 and 6 am. That's when we sleep together.
Jill: Now you're catching on, big boy.

Tim: I should have never let you into my garage in the first place.
Jill: Aha! Your garage! The truth comes out.
Tim: Honey, you know what I mean. I got the hot rod here. I got my tool bench. I've already given you a place for the washing machines.
Jill: I guess I should be grateful... that you let me come into your garage to do your laundry.
Tim: What I'm trying to get at is this is a man zone.
Jill: Where is the woman zone, Tim?
Tim: All I got is the garage. You got the whole rest of the damn house.
Jill: To do what? Clean?
Tim: No. Knit, sew, cook, vacuum... [Jill picks up Tim's hammer] I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I'm kidding. [Jill drops the hammer] Ow!
Jill: So am I.

Wilson: Hi ho, good neighbor.
Tim: Hey, Wilson. What are you up to?
Wilson: Just painting a self-portrait.
Tim: Yeah, of who?
Wilson: Well, Tim, I believe that would be of me.
Tim: Yeah? Can I see what you got so far?
Wilson: Sure, neighbor.
[Wilson holds up a painting of himself with his face only half poking above a fence]
Tim: I got a question for you. Do you mind?
Wilson: Well, Tim, I would never give you the brush-off.

Wilson: You have to understand, Tim, life for women is connections, a struggle to avoid isolation and preserve intimacy.
Tim: Uh, intimacy.
Wilson: Mm-hm.
Tim: Yeah, bingo.
Wilson: Hm?
Tim: Intimacy. That's what it's all about. Wilson, you're always right.
Wilson: Ah, ah, Tim, Tim. "Always" is as dangerous a word as "never".

Tim: There's a fine how-do-you-do. I always think about you.
Jill: Oh, really? Even when you're watching football?
Tim: Especially when I'm watching football. Yeah, I sit down and watch football. I'm always thinking: "God, if Jill were here, she could get me another beer."

Brad: Mom, I can't find the hose.
Jill: What do you want it for, anyway?
Randy: Oh, nothing. Just something to do.
Jill: Why don't you read a book?
Brad: You can't make mud with a book.
Jill: Mud?
Brad: We're playing commandos. We're putting the mud on our faces for camouflage.
Jill: No mud.
Brad & Randy: Oh, man.
Jill: Wait a second, wait a second. You really want your faces dirty?
Randy: Yeah.
Jill: Okay, come here. [Jill smears clay on Randy's face]

Tim: Hey, guys.
Brad & Randy: Hi, Dad.
Tim: What? Are you giving each other facials?
Randy: No. We're playing commandos.
Tim: What? Are you attacking a beauty salon, or something?

Jill: Look, your area is way over there, mine is way over here. If I bother you, you can just tell me and I'll leave.
Tim: Good. Jill?
Jill: What?
Tim: You're bothering me. I'm kidding. We'll share the garage.
Jill: Good.
Tim: I was just concerned about your safety. I gotta put on the steering box today, and you know what that means? Welding. Sparks, heat, noise, sweat.
Jill: Wow. We should have welded on our honeymoon.

Tim: Al, you didn't... you didn't get the stop in there.
Al: I believe that was your job, Tim.
Tim: Al, I believe you're my assistant. You're supposed to check up my work, right? That's what a good assistant does, right, Al?
Al: A good assistant does a lot more than that, Tim.
Tim: You're right, Al. And that's why Al and I plan these minor slip-ups. To demonstrate the importance of how a good assistant can prevent accidents like this. Isn't that right, Al?
Al: I don't think so, Tim.
Tim: I think what Al means is, if you're not careful and watch your step. You can screw up, just like Al did. Tool Time tip: don't be like Al. See you next time, everybody.