Tim: About yesterday, I want to reiterate that getting courtside tickets front row is a very big deal.
Jill: Tim, I'm happy that you were there to spend the day with Mark. But every weekend, you know, it's always these "guy" things. You know, there's basketball, the hot rod, grunting, making noises on the couch. It's like, um, this is a boys club. You know, no girls allowed.
Tim: Girls are allowed. You just can't make the same noises we can.
Jill: You know, you don't have to like the things that I like.
Tim: Whew. Thank you.
Jill: I just want to make sure that you make it OK for the boys to like the things that I like. Let them make up their own minds, OK?

Tim: Point well taken. I understand it. You know, we did go to the ballet, you know? And I did enjoy it.
Jill: You enjoyed it?
Tim: Not the whole half hour. But... I don't know what the guy's name was. This one guy, twiddle toes, he was, like, real athletic. This guy was jumping up in the air. I mean, if he had a basketball, he could have slam-dunked that thing anywhere in the NBA.
Jill: I think you might really enjoy ballet. Why don't you just go with me sometime?
Tim: Eh, the stories are a little slow. Men need more excitement. So, I've... I had an idea.
Jill: What?
Tim: I created a ballet of my own.
Jill: I don't think the dance world is ready for this.

Jill: Look at this! Look what I found.
Tim: Looks like one of my cigars out of my sock drawer.
Jill: Yeah, it is. I also found it with this little crumpled up bag of cookies.
Tim: Your stash?
Jill: My stash. Thus ends our no-baby-sitter experience.