Wilson: The point is, you and Jill don't have to understand each other completely. What is important is to share and enjoy the things you both do understand.
Tim: That's exactly what she was talking about, too. Sharing. She wanted to share. But ballroom dancing?
Wilson: Well, why don't you give it a try, Tim? [Tim grumbles] As the ancient Celtic saying goes: never give a sword to a man who can't dance.

Tim: Welcome to the Taylor home. We're about ready to start that second half of this fantastic game. Green Bay Packers. Minnesota Vikings. [grunts] Before we go down to the field. Let's check out that snack situation. Mark, take it away.
Mark: Pretzels, liquorice, pork rinds.
Tim: Yeah. That's three major food groups right there: salt, sugar, lard. Um, all right. Today, I got cold brewskis for me. Ice-cold root brewskis for my boys...
Brad: Dad? Here are the chips.
Tim: You got it, buddy.
Brad: Go long.
Tim: Nice pass, kid. All right. [Tim struggles to open the bag of chips]
Randy: Dad?
Tim: What?
Randy: You're turning all red.
Tim: [bag splits open] [laughs] There's a warning label right there. You shouldn't open these in broad daylight in Detroit. Could cause an explosion. [chuckles]
Jill: Wow. Look at this warning label. Socks may strike husband unexpectedly.
Tim: You could put an eye out like that.

Jill: Unbelievable.
Tim: I completely forgot. We can't get a baby-sitter at this late hour. This is a tremendous disappointment to me.
Jill: Yeah, I'll bet it is. This was supposed to be our romantic night out.
Tim: Hey, romance? I got it. Why don't you and I go upstairs, turn the lights down, sit in bed, bottle of wine, and we can watch the game up there.
Jill: You're not getting out of this with anything short of pneumonia.
Tim: [coughs] Boy, it's funny you mentioned that. This morning I horked up something nasty-looking. It shot right out of my lungs.
Jill: Well, suck it back in. We're going to dinner.