Wilson: Well, Tim, it goes back a million years. In order for the species to survive, Stone Age man had to seek out many different women.
Tim: Kind of a ménage a Flintstone.
Wilson: You see, Tim, there's something buried deep in your collective unconscious.
Tim: Yeah, my collective unconscious, yeah.
Wilson: Oh, yes, yes, yes. You still possess ancient man's primary fantasy to seek out many different women.
Tim: [grunts] Yeah. Oh, yeah, yeah. Jill doesn't understand that.
Wilson: Mm-hmm. Probably because a woman's primary fantasy continues to be a meaningful relationship with just one man.
Tim: Yeah, but I look at women because collectively I'm unconscious.
Wilson: In a manner of speaking, Tim.
Tim: So, it's in my nature to look at women, that means it's OK.
Wilson: It's OK if you're on the Serengeti chasing a wildebeest with a club.
Tim: But I was in a restaurant in West Bloomfield with my wife.
Wilson: Well, then I'd call it downright rude.

Jill: Tim, it's 45 minutes to our dinner reservation, so aren't you going to take a shower?
Tim: Honey. I don't need to take a shower. I have a natural, earthy, musky scent.
Jill: Quit that!
Tim: No, really. Stick your nose right there and tell me I don't smell like a man.
Jill: Yeah, Cro-Magnon man. [Tim grunts] And I believe he was never fully erect either.

Jill: Then why were you looking at other women tonight?
Tim: Why was I looking at other women tonight?
Jill: Are you stalling?
Tim: Am I stalling?
Jill: Why do you look?
Tim: There's a couple reasons. You have your primary reason and then your secondary reason. Primary reason first, followed by...
Jill: Tim. Why?
Tim: Could you repeat that question?

Man: Excuse me. Aren't you... [grunts] [Tim grunts] Boy, do I love your show. Hey, tell me something, though.
That AI, does he really know more than you or is that just an act?
Tim: It's just an act.
Man: It's a good one. [grunts]
Tim: [grunts] Why don't you go and sit down at your table, fella?

Randy: Dad, I always fumble. My hands are too small.
Tim: I got the answer. Up until now you didn't have the proper equipment.
Randy: "Wacky Quacky Glue."
Tim: Yeah, think of it as professional Stick-Em.
Randy: Dad, but it says on the bottle not to let it come into contact with your skin.
Tim: Oh, please. They mean pretty, little, pink girl skin. We've got man skin. Calluses, warts, open wounds. [grunts] A little dab on each palm like that. A little bit of turpentine to dilute it, don't want to make it too sticky. And now... You won't be able to drop that ball.
Mark: Wow, that's cool, Dad.
Tim: All right. [puts his hands together] Let's go!
Brad: Do you want us to run a play?
Tim: Um... [doesn't catch the ball as Mark throws it to him] I've got a better idea. Why don't you guys try to pull my arms apart?
Randy: Your hands are stuck together, aren't they?
Tim: No. This is a strength exercise. You grab that arm, Randy, grab that arm, and try to pull 'em apart. One, two, three, pull!

Jill: You looked at that woman.
Tim: I did not.
Jill: Yes, you did. I mean, it's no big deal, but I think you should know that we've been here less than one minute and you have already checked a woman out.
Tim: I did not look at that woman. If I did, which I didn't, I'm a people person. People walk by, I'm gonna notice.
Jill: OK, people person. What did the man look like that was with her?
Tim: Man?
Jill: Yeah. Men are people too.
Tim: Wait a minute. How do you know there was a man there? You were checking him out, weren't you?
Jill: No. They're sitting right over there. [Tim looks over] You just did it again.
Tim: I did... I was looking at the man.
Jill: OK, what was he wearing?
Tim: Wearing? A red dress.

Jill: Tim! You're gonna rupture a vertebrae. Face it, you cannot help yourself. You are so pathetic. Whoa, baby. Bad news. This is not the night for you to give up looking at women.
Tim: Oh, why is that, Jill?
Jill: Because an unbelievable young goddess just came in and sat right behind you.
Tim: Yeah, right. I'm gonna fall into that one. What, a 74-year-old steelworker? "Hey, Marge, they got no beer here." [chuckles]
Jill: Not exactly, Tim.
Tim: Oh, yeah, she's the va-va-voom type?
Jill: Well, as a matter of fact, she has great va-vas and a darn good voom.
Tim: All right with me because you're looking pretty good since you took a couple pounds off your voom.
Jill: Thank you so much for that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take my voom to the ladies' room.

Tim: All you've gotta do is work on your ball handling and your moves.
Randy: Yeah, well, I've worked on them every day. Maybe I'm just too small to be any good.
Tim: No, you're not. What you need is a training machine.
Randy: Let me guess. You're gonna build it, right?
Tim: Man, sometimes you can just read my mind. It'll be great. Ropes, tackling dummies, small explosions. If you can survive it you can be one of the best players in Michigan.

Tim: Wilson?
Wilson: Aloha, good neighbor.
Tim: What's with that cheesy music?
Wilson: I want to take a vacation so I'm mentally projecting myself to a place I'd like to be.
Tim: Hawaii?
Wilson: No, no, no, no, no. Tahiti. Hawaii's too crowded.
Tim: Do you mind if I interrupt your vacation?
Wilson: Crack my coconut, Tim.

Tim: AI, have I ever told you what a great job you do on the show?
Al: No, Tim, you haven't.
Tim: Huh... Well, anyway, we finished cutting the holes in the top of the Formica, and AI's gonna install the tubing and the faucet. Our faucet is... Hm. AI, do you suppose if an ancient Egyptian king owned this, it'd be called a Pharaoh faucet?
Al: Only by you, Tim.
Tim: Of course, he'd be married to Ryan O'Nile.
Al: Yeah, right.