Randy: Hey, Mark. You know, you're a real smart kid. You saved your money.
Mark: Thanks.
Randy: Now you have enough to pay your little-brother tax.
Mark: My what?
Randy: The younger brother pays the older brother a tax when he's seven.
Mark: I'm not paying you anything.
Randy: Fine. Have it your way. But we just might hide some strange animals in your bed.
Brad: Unless you pay the tax.

Tim: Got a little list of things for your birthday.
Jill: You haven't gotten me a gift yet?
Tim: Yeah, sure I have. I just wonder if you can guess which one it is.
Jill: Why don't you surprise me?
Tim: At your age, the surprise could kill you.
Jill: Well, let me give you a hint. Never give a woman anything she has to plug in.

Jill: Tim, I want you to be completely honest with me. Do I look, like, a whole lot older than when you met me?
Tim: A whole lot older?
Jill: Just answer the question.
Tim: Of course you don't look a whole lot older.
Jill: Well, you have to admit I'm not that same skinny little peanut you married.
Tim: Yeah, I know. [off Jill's look] You look better. That's what I meant. No, you look a lot better. You do.
Jill: You don't think I'm too fat?
Tim: No, you look perfect. [Tim stares at the aerobics instructor on TV]
Jill: Don't lie to me. You wish that I looked like that for my birthday.
Tim: That would be for my birthday.

Tim: Al, what am I gonna do? I have to get Jill a birthday present. It's got to come from the heart. I can't plug it in and I can't rewire it. What the heck does that leave?

Tim: Hi, everybody. I'm Tim Taylor and welcome to this special edition of Tool Time, here at our project house in beautiful Keego Harbor Heights. Howdy, Al.
Al: Howdy, Tim.
Tim: Al, what are we doing today?
Al: Well, Tim, we'll be expanding the Ingrams' living room out here onto the porch.
Tim: But first we get to dismantle the existing porch. We'll be carting the debris away in this - the beautiful Tool Time truck, "Blood, Sweat, and Gears". [grunts] This is not your standard Detroit issue. We've made a few engine modifications.
Al: Of course, when you say "we" you mean "you".
Tim: That's right, Al, because if I left it up to you, we'd be on a skateboard and a moped. Hear that? That's a Big-Block Chevy, 454, two four-barrel carburetors nestled on aluminum high-rise manifold headers, and dual exhaust. [grunts] Let's back her into position, Al.
Al: All right.
[Tim reverses the truck into the Ingrams' porch]
Al: Uh, we'll be back live right after these messages.

Al: Uh, Tim, I'm going back to the truck.
Tim: Oh, come on, Al. I need a second opinion. Come on.
Al: Well, it's... It's just I feel a little awkward. I've never been in the women's department before.
Saleswoman #1: Hi, Al.
Tim: Why did that woman say hi to you?
Al: Maybe I remind her of someone.
Tim: Remind her of someone named Al, who looks like you, with a hammer in his belt?
Saleswoman #2: Hi, Al.
Al: OK, I'm not gonna to lie to you. Sometimes I come here to try and meet women.
Tim: What?!

Saleswoman: Hi, Al.
Al: Oh, hi, Mrs. Chapman. I just wanted to mention there's a sale tomorrow in the full-figured ladies' department. Maybe you're not interested in that type.
Al: Well, no, my mother was quite large.
Saleswoman: Good luck.
Tim: You scare me, Al.
Al: Well, what do you expect me to do? Dating's tough. I go where the women are: art galleries, laundromats, immigration.
Tim: Don't tell me this stuff. OK? Let's get moving... Immigration? [Al nods]

Tim: Let's... let's try to tune in to my wife Jill. Just look around. Do you think she'd like anything in here?
Al: Well, if I were Jill... Well, I'd like any of these things.
Tim: Al, please. Now, what about these dresses? I'm a little confused. Six, eight, ten, twelve... Does that mean twelve inches?
Al: Well, that doesn't sound right. [pulls out tape measure]
Tim: Let's figure this... I've got a 32 waist, right? I wear a 32 pant. Jill's smaller than me. She's got to be... 20.
Al: Well, here. That would be this.
Tim: You look like a hang-glider, Al.

Al: Well, a more personal gift would be lingerie.
Tim: Hey... Bingo! Jill loves lingerie.
Al: Yeah?
Tim: How do you know if it's her? Or anybody?
Al: Could you picture her in this? [holds a red nightie up to his body]
Tim: Not now.

Saleswoman: Oh, I'm so sorry. Is the smell of my perfume bothering you?
Al: No, it's a lovely fragrance. What's it called?
Saleswoman: Available.
Al: Really?
Saleswoman: We have a full line of men's cologne. Would you be interested?
Al: Yes, I am.
Tim: Al, you're gonna help me.
Al: [to the saleswoman] You know, I haven't seen you here before.
Tim: Al?
Saleswoman: This is a temp job. Actually, I'm an actress.
Al: Really? I'm on television. I have my own show.