Mark: Do you have to go to the bathroom, Dad?
Tim: I don't think I... I don't think I'm ever gonna go to the bathroom again. Oh!
Mark: What happened?
Tim: I pulled my groin.
Mark: What's that?
Tim: My very favorite muscle.

Tim: What happened is I pulled a groin muscle yesterday at home. I went to the doc's this morning. He said I'm not supposed to lift anything heavy. So we have to change the format of the show a little bit today. You're gonna have to do all the work.
Al: And what would the change be, Tim?

Tim: Well, Wilson, I'm confused. You know, I'm carrying this trunk of books and I find out she likes these books about all these guys with rippling muscles, you know, so I wanted to, you know, show her my rippling muscles and these guys end up carrying women off upstairs to ecstasy and I pull a groin muscle.
Wilson: Well, Tim, Tim, Tim, I think you've got something over these young guys.
Tim: You do?
Wilson: Uh-huh. Yes, it's best summed up in an ancient Chinese proverb. It goes: [speaks Chinese]
Tim: W-w-wait, wait... Is that Peking dialect?
Wilson: I am so sorry, Tim. It may lose a bit in the translation, but it goes: "A great lover is not one who romances a different woman every night. A great lover is one who romances the same woman for a lifetime."
Tim: That's something to think about, isn't it? Is there anything you don't know, Wilson?
Wilson: I don't know.

Mark: I'll get Mom.
Tim: No, no, no, no. Don't tell your mother. Don't tell your mother.
Mark: Why not? Whenever I get hurt she makes me feel better.
Tim: Well, that's regular pain, this is man pain.
Mark: How do you know if you have regular pain or man pain?
Tim: If you do something stupid it's probably man pain.
Mark: But if you don't tell Mom, isn't that lying?
Tim: Not if you don't say the words. If you said the words it'd be lying.
Mark: What if she asks me?
Tim: Lie!

Jill: Oh, honey, I just... I feel so bad. You know, I just... I never realized that I weigh so much more than that trunk.
Tim: Honey, that trunk didn't give birth to three kids.
Jill: That's right.
Tim: You know, I think maybe you hurt me worse than I thought. Probably be a good idea if I just sat on the couch all week and watched football. I'd feel better I think.
Jill: Well, that's a good idea. Oh, and you know what else? I could... I could get you a little bell... and you could ring it whenever you need me.
Tim: That's silly. If I need you I'll just yell.
Jill: Oh. Good idea. Here's your ice. [empties the ice bag into Tim's pants] Well, pookums. Did I hurt your man pain?
Tim: Mark, you squealer!
Mark: [o.s.] She tricked me!

Al: Well, since we'll only be mixing up a small amount, all we'll need is a wheelbarrow, water, sand and cement.
Tim: Sounds like that recipe for the cookies you brought in yesterday.
Al: My mother made those, Tim.
Tim: Oh, I'm sorry. Hope she's dating a dentist.
Al: Here you go, Tim! [throws the bag of cement to Tim]
Tim: No! I don't want... [falls down] We'll be right back after these messages from B-Binfor...

Tim: Today we get to mess with a Binford 60-pound upright electric jackhammer. You know, Al, they say that breaking up is hard to do. Evidently, Neil Sedaka never played with one of these bad boys. This can make some real noise. 130 pulsating decibels of jackhammer. Ar-ar-ar-ar-oh-oh-ar-ar-ar.
Al: You're right, Tim. That's why we'll be protecting our hearing with these soft, foam-filled, plastic-cushioned earmuffs.
Tim: That's right, Al, and as any ZZ Top fan knows, hearing loss begins at 85 decibels. At 100 decibels you have your ordinary 10-inch table saw. At 120 decibels you have your 12-inch radial arm saw. And very dangerous, at 180 decibels, you have your unbelievable 68-inch mother-in-law. Just kidding, Nana.

Tim: "Desire's Passion in the Wind."
Jill: It's nothing. I just bought it in the grocery store line.
Tim: And these?
Jill: No...
Tim: "Desire's Real Passion." "The Sweet Kiss of Desire." "Desire and the Leprechaun."
Jill: Cut it out.
Tim: You know, I didn't know you liked books like this.
Jill: I know it sounds silly, but, you know, they're actually very well-written.
Tim: Really? [clears throat] "Her heart stood still as Derek swept her into his arms. His sinewy biceps rippled as he carried her up the stairs to a night of eternal ecstasy." Oh, please.
Jill: OK, so I enjoy cheap romance and drama.
Tim: Fine. I'll bring some hand puppets to the bedroom.

Tim: Al, Al. Can you come here? I need some help.
Al: I don't believe that's part of my job description, Tim.
Tim: Just stand there and block my view and tell me if anybody's coming, OK? Mm-hm. Butterfly's loose. Do you ever feel like your whole groin is on fire?
Al: Every night, Tim.

Tim: Al, what are we up to today?
Al: Well, Tim, today we're gonna be showing you how to patch up your sidewalk or driveway. And to do that we're gonna need to mix up some concrete.
Tim: That's right, concrete. Cement, sand, gravel and water. A man's Play-Doh. Ha-ha. The best place to get concrete, of course, is a cement truck. But, of course, none of us have a cement truck. But we'd all like one, wouldn't we? Who wouldn't want 65,000 pounds out of a hydraulic diesel-powered truck, oh yeah. Ten-yarder, 15 chutes spitting water and gravel, churn... [grunts] Ow. But quite frankly, who needs 65,000 pounds of cement? Nobody. Not unless you have your mother-in-law visiting and you want to make her some Loafers. [laughs] Just kidding, Nana. Speaking of loafers, Al, why don't we mix up that concrete?