Jill: What did he decide?
Tim: What did he decide? He, um... Uh... He figured that since it burned down, it wasn't a good time to buy it.
Jill: Did you burn down Marv's shanty?
Tim: What is it with you? I walk through the door, you immediately accuse me of burning it down. Why? Why? Why?
Jill: Tim...
Tim: Right to the ground. Right... Ashes.
Jill: Oh, no.
Tim: I'm sure he's got an insurance policy that covers a shanty clause in there.
Jill: Tim, there is no such thing as Shanty Clause.

Al: I can't believe you came up here without a change of clothes.
Tim: Well, I didn't intend on falling through the ice, Al.
Al: Everybody knows that when you come on a trip like this, you have to plan for every possible contingency. And with you, every contingency is possible.
Tim: Well, this contingency is your fault.
Al: Fine. Just lucky that I brought an extra set of clothes.
Tim: Oh, yeah. Real lucky. [takes the blanket off to reveal an over-sized flannel shirt and denim jeans] What is this? "One size fits Al"?

Jill: That was such a good movie. I'm rewinding.
Ilene: I love Gigi.
Marie: Why can't life be like that? You're always in France, you drink champagne and you sing.
Jill: My life is a lot like Gigi's. Except I live in Detroit, drink diet soda and my husband grunts.

Al: And we're also proud to introduce to you this - Binford's anodized aluminum kick plate.
Tim: Kick plate? Hm. Maybe something you should install in the rear of your pants. Very often in the humid days, sometimes the door will wedge itself shut, so you end up holding groceries coming in, you start kicking it. "Honey! Honey!"
Al: Resulting in these unsightly kick marks.
Tim: Exactly. But those are a memory now because of the kick plate we've got. [kick plate twangs] Installed at the bottom of the door now, now you can kick till you're blue in the foot and it won't damage the door. Why don't you give it a shot, Al? OK. [Al gently kicks the door] Yeah, well. You can give it a kick. Let's show how much abuse it can have. Honey! Honey! Wilma! [kicks through the wood]

Tim: How many bedrooms does Marv have?
Al: No bedrooms.
Tim: How many bathrooms?
Al: No baths.
Tim: Remind me not to stand too close to Marv.
Al: It's an ice-fishing shanty.
Tim: A shanty?
Al: Yeah, you know, it's a house. Sits right there on the lake, and you can fish right through a hole in the floor.
Tim: What kind of ice you fishing for? Cubed, crushed? [laughs]

Al: Marv needs an answer by this weekend, and Ilene's gonna be at your house Saturday.
Tim: What?
Al: Yeah. Jill invited the gals over to watch musicals.
Tim: "The gals over"? Was that this weekend she did that?
Al: Yeah, yeah, and they're gonna talk about their guys. And they said something about removing unnecessary body hair.
Tim: Ugh. What time you wanna pick me up?
Al: How's 5:30 am?
Tim: You stop by at 5:30am, I'll remove your unnecessary body hair.

Randy: Ice fishing in January. We are so jealous.
Brad: Well, Dad, did you hear what the weatherman said? He said it's gonna be seven below zero.
Tim: Thank you, Mr. Thermometer.
Randy: Yeah, and that's the high.
Tim: It's not gonna be that bad. Marv's shanty is real custom. He's got insulation, a heater, bunks, shelves, the works. It's a real cool place.
Randy: You know, I'd better make room in the freezer for all the fish Dad's gonna catch. [removes a Popsicle]
That should do it.
Tim: [fake sob] You guys gotta stop teasing me. I'm starting to get real upset. I wish you'd stop it.

Tim: I don't care what you say. I'd rather be ice fishing anytime than be stuck here with women and these. Gigi. Funny Girl. [fake laugh] The King and I. Come on.
Mark: Dad, what's The King and I?
Tim: It's some film about Elvis.

Marie: Well, Ilene, I'm glad to hear that romance isn't dead. I remember when my husband was romantic. Everyday when Joe came home from the slaughterhouse, he'd bring me a heart-shaped hamburger patty.
Ilene: Really?
Jill: Tim is at his most romantic during the dollar-day sale at Sears. All I gotta do is wear a negligee and hold up a tool catalog.
Ilene: I can't imagine Al ever losing his flair for romance.
Marie: That's because you're still at the stage where he's serenading you with violins at dinner. In six months, the only serenading you're gonna hear is his burping on the way to the bathroom.
Jill: Yeah, and once inside, there's a serenade you really don't wanna hear.

Tim: The reception's terrible in here. I can't tell whether Gilligan got 'em off the island or the Pistons are about to score. Someone's driving the lane. Go, go! It's Thurston Howell. "Lovey, I just slammed the ball, Lovey. Come here and give me a big smackeroonie, Lovey."