Jill: So, Tim... do you know what special event we have coming up next week?
Tim: You don't even have to ask me. I know what it is.
Jill: You're bluffing. What is it?
Tim: Our anniversary. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
Jill: OK, Mr. Big Shot. What day of the week is it?
Tim: What day of the week is it? That's easy. What day of the week is it? What day...
Randy: [quietly] Friday.
Tim: Friday. Friday.
Jill: Saturday. Saturday.
Tim: Saturday? [Randy laughs]

Jill: We will of course be exchanging gifts.
Tim: And you're the hardest person in the world to buy for.
Jill: Yes, I know, I know. But this year I've made it easy for you. Crowley's is holding this beautiful gold hand-knit sweater for me. All you have to do is go down there and pick it up and your anniversary nightmare is over.
Tim: You just waltz in here and deny me the pleasure of shopping for you?
Jill: That's right.
Tim: Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't you want to know what I want?
Jill: I've already got your present and I know you'll love it.
Tim: I hope it's as good as the sweater I bought for you. I shopped for hours for that thing.

Jill: Tim, you know, Crowley's is only gonna hold that sweater for three days, so if you're gonna get it, you gotta go fast.
Tim: Forget about the sweater. I've got the perfect gift for you.
Jill: If you think filling my car with antifreeze is gonna work as my present again this year, you can forget it.
Tim: Let's put it this way. When you find out what I'm gonna give you, you're gonna want to cover me in chocolate syrup and show your appreciation in weird and unusual ways.
Jill: Chocolate syrup. I've gotta admit, you piqued my interest.
Tim: What do you say to me after we finish dinner every anniversary?
Jill: "Tim, you have mashed potatoes on your tie."
Tim: Jill, you always say, "We should go dancing." This year, we go dancing.

Mrs. Keeney: OK, class, that was just wonderful. Mrs. Taylor, really, you're a natural. Such style and grace.
Jill: Oh, thank you.
Tim: How about me?
Mrs. Keeney: Well, Mr. Taylor, you're one of a kind.
Tim: Thanks a lot. What did she mean by that?
Jill: She meant you're a geek and disco is dead.

Mrs. Keeney: All right, everybody. Let's take a break, but remember: To live is to dance and to dance is to be free.
Tim: Free? Does this mean you're not charging us 20 bucks for the lesson?
Mrs. Keeney: Oh, Mr. Taylor, don't think of it as money. Think of it as an investment in sophistication. And that's an investment you could use.

Mrs. Keeney: Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor, would you come out here, please?
Tim: Me?
Mrs. Keeney: Yes. You seem to be enjoying yourself.
Tim: Totally, babe.
Mrs. Keeney: Well, why don't we put all of our creative energies to good use?
Tim: And refinish the floor.
Mrs. Keeney: No. Let's use our imagination.
Tim: All right.
Mrs. Keeney: We're in New York.
Tim: Give me your wallet.

Mrs. Keeney: We're in the Stork Club, 1957. The band begins to play a cha-cha and we see each other across the room. Our eyes lock.
Tim: Argh!
Mrs. Keeney: The band begins to play a dance of passion. Oh, the mating ritual begins.
Tim: Lady, lady, lady. I've got a wife, you know.
Mrs. Keeney: In 1957, you had no wife. Now, let yourself go, Mr. Taylor. Don't be a prisoner of your body.
Tim: Free me, warden. I'm on parole!
Mrs. Keeney: Let's show 'em. Let's show the class those turns. Oh, with lots of speed and lots of flair.
Tim: Oh, spin me, Mr. Taylor! Really spin me!
Mrs. Keeney: [screams] [crashes into piano]
Tim: Call 911.

Tim: There's other dance studios we can go to, you know.
Jill: You know, you always do this. You always ridicule everything that is important to me.
Tim: No, I don't. I was just trying to make your gift as special as the steer... steer... The steer. A steer. What a gift that would be. A steer. You could have a steer out there, get beef and milk out of the same animal.
Jill: You snooped.
Tim: I did not.
Jill: You snooped around and found the steering wheel.
Tim: It's not like you hid it very well. You put it in the broom closet.
Jill: When was the last time you used the broom? Thank you for ruining both gifts.
Tim: I love the steering wheel.
Jill: Exactly, which is why I would have liked to have seen you open it.

Tim: We can still go dancing Saturday at Excalibur.
Jill: No way I'm gonna go dancing with a man who can't even make it through one lesson.
Tim: Yeah, but give me credit. The ballroom dancing idea was good.
Jill: Oh, I bet that wasn't even your idea. I bet the kids thought of it, right?
Tim: No. The amount you've been nagging me about... [Jill walks off] "Nag" is the wrong word. "Nag" is the wrong word. It's the wrong word! I can dance. I've got flair. I've got panache, just like Mr. Green. [knocks over trash can]

Tim: Come on, Jill, hurry up. Are you still mad? Are you going to dinner with me?
Jill: Yes, of course I'm going to dinner with you. I'm not mad.
Tim: 8:00 reservations. We still have to exchange gifts.
Jill: How about, "You look pretty"?
Tim: Thanks. I changed my hair. I'm using that raspberry mousse of yours. It's very fragrant.