Tim: Jill and I got in this bad argument.
Wilson: Mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm.
Tim: She says that I think I own everything in the house.
Wilson: Hm. Well, do you think that, Tim?
Tim: No, we own everything together. 50-50.
Wilson: Tim?
Tim: I-I guess I... To be honest, I do kind of feel like I own everything.

Wilson: Whoa, Tim! I feel an icy blast moving up my hindquarters. Best go in and do a little bit of waterproofing.

Tim: Well, I'm not talking about the kind of power you plug in. I'm talking about the power of ownership. Too often in our lives we give too much value to our possessions, like the sander here.
Al: Actually, Tim, this sander was a rental.
Tim: Whatever, Al.
Al: We can kiss that security deposit goodbye.
Tim: I'm glad I put it on your credit card.
Al: My credit card?
Tim: Let it go, Al.

Jill: Brad, did you kill Howard?
Brad: Yes.
Jill: If he's dead, why isn't he floating on the top?
Brad: I stuck a ball bearing in his mouth.
Jill: Oh, Brad! [doorbell rings]
Brad: Mom, that's Jennifer. What am I gonna do?
Jill: Well, you're gonna have to tell her the truth. Spare her the ball bearing thing.

Jill: Randy, that was so cool the way you stood up for your brother.
Randy: Well, Mom, I kind of broke his Game Boy, so now he won't beat me up.

Jill: Since you are being so generous, perhaps I should have my checks reprinted.
Tim: No. I was stupid. Have your own checking account.
Jill: No, no. I want to, I want to. It'll be a joint account, equal, 50-50.
Tim: Equal? You don't have to do this.
Jill: Here. How would that look?
Tim: You could've left 'em the way... "Mr. and Mrs. Jill Taylor." [grunts]

Jill: You know, honey, I realized today we need to order new checks for the old account. I was thinking, maybe we should change the design.
Tim: What's the matter with the old one?
Jill: I don't know. It's just not us. I was thinking it'd be nice to have, Iike, a sunset or some daisies, or... some frolicking bunnies.
Tim: I hope you're kidding. Do you expect me to go to the hardware store and order a nail gun with bunny checks?
Jill: Well, what do you want?
Tim: Something a little more manly. Armpit hair, marines... Kidney stones.
Jill: I'm sure I'm gonna go to the grocery store with armpit-hair checks.
Tim: Hey, what happened to all this compromise? 50-50, what's mine is yours, that stuff.
Jill: OK, how about this? A bunny passing a kidney stone.