Tim: Hey, why don't you and I play a little game?
Jill: What?
Tim: Let's play a little game, just you and I. Let's play.
Jill: OK. OK, all right. [Tim gestures] Three words. First word. Me. Woman. Jill. Jill, OK. Three words. Third word, third word. Hamburger. Red. Meat. Meat. Jill blank meat. Second word. [Tim pounds the burger patty] Jill dead meat.
Jill: So I guess you're kind of annoyed that nobody's working on your engine.
Tim: Well, how would you feel about it? If you planned a wedding shower for three months the night of the wedding shower, I bring these guys over to watch football?
Jill: That happened, Tim.
Tim: And you didn't like it, did you?

Jill: Wilson, aren't human beings more important than machines?
Wilson: Well, without a doubt. Although, I am quite fond of my waffle maker.
Jill: Well, thank you. I wish you would tell that to that knucklehead I'm married to.
Wilson: Oh, he knows how I feel. He's had my waffles.

Al: Tim, maybe we can get a head start on that shed over the weekend.
Tim: Ooh, no can do, Al. This weekend, after two years, I'm finally putting the soul in the beast. I'm dumping that big 350 Chevy engine in my hot rod.
Al: Really?
Tim: Yeah.
Al: Well, that would be hard to do by yourself.
Tim: That's why I got a couple of guys coming over. A little work party, a celebration of man and machine. [grunts]

Tim: Al, I would have asked you, but I thought you'd be with Greta at that big linoleum exhibit.
Al: Well, uh... I told Greta that I didn't want to be tied down. And, you know, we just... we both thought that it was best to explore other options.
Tim: She dumped you, huh?
Al: Yeah. Well, have a good weekend, Tim.
Tim: Hey, Al. You know, we could probably use another hand dropping that engine in, if you're free.
Al: Completely free! I love parties! Is there a theme?
Tim: A theme? Yeah, we're doing the Wild West.
Al: I could bring jerky.
Tim: They say you are what you eat, Al.

Tim: I'd like to sit and chat with you women, but I've got to go pray to Chevy, the combustion god.

Al: Howdy, partners.
Tim: Hi, Al. Nice hat. What's that, 500 gallon? You know everybody. Bob, Hank, guys, say howdy to Al.
Bob: Howdy, Al.
Al: Howdy.
Hank: Hi, Al.
Al: Howdy.
Bob: Tim, didn't I read that a Chevy engine in a Ford was a felony in Michigan.
Al: [to Hank] You know, Tim told me it was a western theme.
Tim: Let's go over this one more time. I picked the Chevy because it's got more midrange torque. OK, I got availability of parts. I think it's a better motor...
Bob: Hey, hey, it's your rod.
Tim: Thank you.
Al: Tim told me it was a western theme.

Tim: Where you going with the hose?
Brad: I thought maybe I'd water the lawn.
Tim: What did I tell you about water balloons?
Brad: Fill them up real full so they bust on contact?
Tim: That's right.

Jill: This is great. This is great. We'll barbecue.
Leslie: Oh, honey, we're gonna barbecue!
Tim: Barbecue's a bad idea. The guys are not interested in a barbecue. Nobody wants to barbecue.
Bob: I'll have a hot dog.
Hank: I'll have a steak.
Al: I can make shish kebab. [Tim grunts]

Jill: Look, I know that you're not happy that things didn't go the way you planned. But more importantly, we've got two friends that we're trying to get together in there.
Tim: Not we, you. Why do you always have to fix people up?
Jill: Everybody does that.
Tim: Everybody doesn't do that. Women do that. Guys don't sit around and go, "Boy, Frank, we gotta find somebody for him. I mean, all he does is go to that great job, watch football, drink beer, and race his car on weekends. His life is just so empty."

Jill: I mean, here I am trying to get these two people together and all he can think about is this hunk of metal in the garage.
Wilson: Well, that's because to him it's more than just a hunk of metal. To Tim, it's a 1934 Roadster Street Rod, Mystic Midnight Blue, queen bee headlights, suicide doors with hidden hinges, rolled rear pan... [grunts] Oh, yes...
Jill: I know it's important to him. So he lost a day. Big deal. You know, he's taking this so personally.
Wilson: You know, Jill.... the Navajo Indians believe that when a craftsman makes a basket or a sand painting, his spirit actually enters the object and he becomes a part of it.
Jill: So you're saying that the two become one?
Wilson: That's about it.
Jill: So by dismissing the object, I've been dismissing the man. Thank you, Wilson. [goes back inside]
Wilson: Jill? Jill? The burger?