Jill: You told him? I can't believe it! I'm so... Tim, if I had wanted my advisor to know about the hysterectomy, I would have told him. How could you do this to me?
Lillian: Well, honey, don't bite his head off...
Jill: Mother, please! I don't need him to get me an extension. I don't need Wilson to tell me about menopause on the Mayflower! I don't need Heidi flaunting her perfect boobs in my face! And I most especially don't need Al comparing me to his bearded aunt! God! [storms off]
Tim: Let the mood swings begin.

Jill: Well, you're gonna have to finish it without me because I have to work on my thesis.
Lillian: Oh, that'll solve everything. Then what are you gonna hide behind when you're done with that? Jill, honey, I know you weren't expecting to have a hysterectomy at your age. And I know it must be very hard. But you've got to stop taking your anger out on other people and deal with your loss.
Jill: I am dealing with my loss, Mom. This is the way I am dealing with my loss! I'm sorry! I am very angry! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this, this empty way I feel! I hate the way I look to myself now. I hate that doctor for doing this to me! I hate my body! I hate myself! I hate everybody and everything! Oh, God!
Lillian: Oh, honey, honey.
Jill: I just feel so old and useless.

Jill: When I was a little girl we moved all the time. My mom never questioned it. She'd just say, "Whatever's good for your father is good for all of us." And we'd pack our bags and follow him.
Wilson: So, basically, for 20 years you've been following Tim.
Jill: Yeah. Right to the emergency room.

Jill: I cannot believe that you have the gall to say that I am taking you for granted.
Tim: Here it goes.
Jill: For the last 15 years I've been doing all the thankless jobs around here - the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, and in my spare time I've managed to have three children. You never once thanked me. And the one time that I come to you asking you to carry your weight around here, all I get from you is resentment. The truth is you were happier when I just was stuck here in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant. I should just squat down here right now and shoot out another kid.
Tim: Just don't do it near the furnace vent.

Tim: Don't think of the audience as a group. When I first did Tool Time, I was petrified. So I tried to visualize it as just one person.
Jill: The first time you did Tool Time there was just one person.
Tim: That's not my point. I tried to visualize that person as being in their underwear.
Jill: He was in his underwear.
Tim: He was not.

Jill: Why don't you just ever tune in to me?
Tim: What am I supposed to do? Read your mind? At least when I want something, it's pretty clear what it is I want.
Jill: Well, that's true, Tim. Your signals are real clear. You crush a beer can on your head, that means, "I need another one." You belch... [belches] that's, "I'm done." And, "Honey, I took a shower," that's, "Wake up, I'm ready."

Jill: Whoa, baby! You look great!
Tim: You wouldn't be just teasing a gal, would you?
Jill: No, I'm serious. This is real sexy.
Tim: It is?
Jill: Yeah. You got the legs for it. I just wish it was shorter.
Both: The kilt!

Jill: Well, um, OK. I'm thankful for good friends, for my children, for a husband who never ceases to amaze and surprise me, a man who's blown out every window in the house, frozen his tongue to a hammer, fallen off the roof, through the roof, hung upside down from the roof, and in spite of all these things, or maybe even because of them, I love him more today than I did the day I married him.

Tim: I've worked on this car for three years. And you send it outside like some stray cat. This is like a member of the family to me.
Jill: You wait a minute. You just wait a minute. Every single thing I have ever owned, you have managed to puncture, singe, pulverize, crack, crush, melt or explode, and every single time I have managed to come up with the compassion to forgive you. But this one time this happens, do you have the same compassion to forgive me? No! Thank you so much.
Tim: Honey, l... [Jill slams the door] Wait a minute. You are really good. You screw up and I'm getting yelled at. You are really, really good.

Randy: Just got a little book to read. Tale of Two Cities.
Tim: Don't play a tape! Read the book, will ya, Randy?
Randy: I got the idea from you.
Tim: Well, don't tell your mom you got the idea from me.
Randy: Don't worry, Dad. She's not gonna find out.
Male Narrator: [on tape] A Tale Of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times..."
Jill: [on tape] It's going to be the worst of times for you if you don't turn this off and go read the book! Oh, and I don't care what your father told you.
Tim: Hey, fast-forward past that thing.