Mark: Mommy, I'm worried.
Jill: About what, honey?
Mark: If you drool and sleep on your back, won't you drown?
Jill: No, honey. Thank you for your concern. Eat a carrot.

Tim: How long has the oil light been on, Jill?
Jill: Oil light...
Tim: The oil light. Next to the speedometer. A little red light with an oil can on it.
Jill: Oh, that thing. I don't know, two or three days.
Tim: Two or three days? It's a warning light. Didn't it occur to you there might be a little problem?
Jill: I thought if there was a problem with the car, that the light would get brighter or there would be a buzzer.
Tim: A buzzer?! It's a car, not a game show.

Jill: Tim, the car is running fine.
Tim: It used to be running fine. Inside of a car is an internal combustion engine. Composed of many precision parts running at a high RPM. High RPM produces friction. Friction produces heat. Heat is dissipated by lubrication - oil. When the car didn't get the oil that it needs, it tends to seize up into a rock.
Jill: Are you saying the car's not running?
Tim: We now own a 4,000 pound, four-door boulder.
Jill: You mean I can't drive it?
Tim: Not unless you're Wilma Flintstone.

Randy: Do you think I have girls' hands?
Jill: What?
Randy: Jason Loomis says I have hands like his sister, only smaller.
Jill: That is ridiculous. Look at these hands. They're strong, well-defined. With these hands, you could be a painter or a surgeon. A concert pianist... [Randy shakes his head] A football player, karate champ, lumberjack, test pilot, construction worker...
Randy: Thanks, Mom.

Jim: I do a lot of carving and I just bought myself a serious set of chisels.
Tim: Probably like the Binford 600 series. You used them last week, Al. [Al is silent]
Jim: Anyway, uh... The other day, I come home and there's my wife out in the garage...
Tim: Where she doesn't belong.
Jim: And she's... She's prying the lid off a gallon can of paint with my three-eighths-inch skew chisel.
Tim: Oh, jeez. And they wonder why we die first.

Tim: Wait a minute. I topped you both. My wife drools in her sleep.
Jim: Disgusting.
Tim: And I'm not talking about a little puddle. I'm talking about, "Hook up the hose. Let's water the lawn." No, no, no. "Man the lifeboats, she's drooling. Get in. [sings] She's drooling, drooling Drooling down the river Drooling, drooling. Drooling down the river..."
Al: Tim.
Tim: What is it, Al? Come on, join in.
Al: We only have a few minutes left, Tim.
Tim: Al, we're having an important discussion here.
Al: About drool, Tim?

Tim: I was talking with the other guys and we were sharing silly stories about our wives. And I had a great one about Jill and it just came out.
Wilson: Well, Tim, it sounds to me like you're a victim of the hierarchical structure of male conversation.
Tim: Hi, har, harical... How do you spell that?
Wilson: Let's just say one-upmanship. See, Tim, men's relationships are based on status and power. [Tim grunts] Men feel compelled to outdo each other. If one man tells a story about his wife, the next man feels he's got to tell an even better story.
Tim: That was exactly what happened. I got caught up in that h-hi-hiarchal thing.
Wilson: Happens all the time, Tim.
Tim: Well, I don't want it to happen. How do you make it stop?
Wilson: Well, Tim, men have to learn to compete less and listen more. We have to learn to start sharing our feelings.

Tim: Hey, that's a nice-looking shirt. Is it brand-new? [title: "Sorry I made you cry"]
Al: No, it's an old one. [title: "Tim must be feeling guilty"]
Tim: Well, it looks really good on you. [title: "I apologize"]
Al: Thanks. [title: "Thanks"]
Tim: Hey, maybe some girl will see you in that shirt and want to marry you. [title: "Fat chance"]
Al: Thanks, Tim. I appreciate that. [title: "I can't wait until I get my own show"]

Jim: Nice to meet ya. Love your show.
Tim: Thanks. What's your name?
Jim: Jim. Uh, my friends call me Jimbo.
Tim: I'm... I'm Tim. You can call me Timbo.

Al: OK, Tim. I've cut the molding to the proper length. And by using our miter box here...
Tim: It's no good.
Al: It's a very good cut, Tim.
Tim: Not talking about the cut or the miter. It's... Something's bugging me, man. I gotta get it off my chest. We don't normally do this. But I wanna talk to y'all about respect. Respect for the machines that power our lives. Yeah. I know this guy that found out his wife's been driving the car for three days with the oil light on. No respect - none. My wife, she... Not, not my wife. This guy's wife didn't even think about that engine.