Randy: Hey, Mom. Are you and Dad gonna be here tomorrow, say, around 2:00?
Jill: Well, let's see, Dad's gonna be at the office, and I was thinking about going shopping. They're having a sale at a boutique I love.
Randy: Great. Fantastic. Best thing you can do.
Jill: Although... I don't know. I may just stay home. I mean, sales are really a big pain in the butt. All these women elbowing each other out of the way just to save 40 cents on a bra.
Randy: Well, you know, you should go shopping. You could use a new bra.
Jill: Really? How would you know that?
Randy: Dad told me. He also told me that the last time you bought a bra, it didn't look too good. So you should take your time and try 'em all on.
Jill: You know, I really don't think your father should be talking about stuff like that with you.
Randy: Well, you know, he seemed pretty disturbed by it. But I guarantee you, if you find the right bra, the problem will be solved. Good luck, Mom.

Tim: Mark, here's the Styrofoam balls for the planets.
Mark: Dad, there's not that many planets.
Tim: Sure there are. Neptune, Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Earth, Mercury, Ford, Chevy, Volvo... Yugo? That planet was destroyed.

Randy: I don't know what she looks like. We've been sending love letters through the Singles bulletin board on the computer.
Brad: So when are you gonna meet her?
Randy: Never. She's 25.
Brad: No way. Why would a 25-year-old girl be interested in you?
Randy: Because she thinks I'm a 32-year-old dermatologist.
Brad: And, um, where did she get that idea?
Randy: That's what I told her. I also told her I'm 6'4" and drive a Ferrari.
Brad: Hm. Wait till she finds out you're 4'6" and pedal a Schwinn.