Tim: Make sure the joint on your door is secure.
Al: And for that, we're using a biscuit joiner to cut the slots in our wood for the biscuits.
Tim: Biscuits? Do you think they...
Al: No. They're not buttermilk biscuits. They're not sourdough biscuits. They're not dog biscuits.
Tim: I was just trying to make...
Al: They're not biscuits with honey, they're not biscuits with gravy, they're not biscuits in a box, or biscuits in a basket.
Tim: You're a biscuit case, Al.

Jill: I cannot believe that you have the gall to say that I am taking you for granted.
Tim: Here it goes.
Jill: For the last 15 years I've been doing all the thankless jobs around here - the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, and in my spare time I've managed to have three children. You never once thanked me. And the one time that I come to you asking you to carry your weight around here, all I get from you is resentment. The truth is you were happier when I just was stuck here in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant. I should just squat down here right now and shoot out another kid.
Tim: Just don't do it near the furnace vent.

Wilson: Hi-ho, neighbor. You know, Tim, I woke up this morning and the blues were all around my bed.
Tim: Maybe you should have tried vacuuming. Well, I got hit with a croquet ball. I got the black-and-blues.
Wilson: [plays harmonica and sings] Got out of my bed Got hit in the head Knocked out of my shoes I got those lowdown croquet-ball blues
Tim: When did you learn to play the harmonica?
Wilson: This morning.