Al: Suppose your kid has a Chemistry final tomorrow.
Tim: He's got to do well, but the professor's got this silly bias against students that, I don't know, blow up the chemistry lab. Allegedly.
Al: To help students stay up late studying, our dorm room has that added thing to give them that jolt of energy!
Tim: An oxygen bar.
Al: Yes, it comes with domestic...
Tim: Mmm, Seattle.
Al: And imported. [coughs]
Tim: Mexico City.

Tim: I've added one more little thing.
Al: What?
Tim: Let's say you're having the captain of the cheerleaders over for a little late-night studying, and you don't want Flannel Boy listening in.
Al: What?
[Al's bunk bed disappears behind that cabinets and Tim's bunk is lowered down]

Tim: Aren't you supposed to be studying?
Brad: Yeah, Mom wants me to be studying, but I'm all out of brain space.
Tim: All right. Well, take a little break. Let's play a little out here.
Brad: No, that's cool, Dad.
Tim: [as Arnold Schwarzenegger] Come on. Just do it. Do it now. Come on. Work it. Work it. Work it. Don't turn your back on me, girlie man. Shoot.

Simon: I'm soccer-mad myself. I even bought my own team. The Birmingham Chubbs. Are you a soccer fan, Taylor?
Tim: Yeah, you know, it's okay. I love the rioting.
Wilson: Well, you know, if Brad has a game in the next couple of days, why don't you take Simon?
Tim: He plays tomorrow afternoon. Love to take you if you want to go see it. And after that, maybe you want to take a look at the Healy with me and tell me why the wipers go on every time I honk the horn.
Simon: Sounds like a problem with the radio.

Simon: Do all Americans drive like that?
Tim: Yeah. We drive on the right side of the road here, Simon.
Simon: No, I meant 60 miles an hour on the shoulder.
Brad: No, you see, my dad calls that the passing lane.

Wilson: All right, listen, guys, I gotta kick around a few math problems.
Simon: Great game, Brad. You were top-drawer.
Tim: That means "good job" if you live in the mother country.

Simon: You know, I have to tell you, Brad really is quite a soccer player. He's talented enough to play professionally in England.
Tim: You think he's that good?
Simon: Yeah. I can't say the same for your wiring.
Tim: What do you want to do?
Simon: I'll need a wire stripper and a cold beverage posthaste.
Tim: Here's your wire stripper. I'll get you your cold beverage post-toasty.

Tim: Hey, hitting those books, huh?
Brad: Yeah. I already hit them. Now I gotta open them.

Tim: Honey, you're in for a treat. Your first banger's almost off the grill.
Jill: I can't wait. What's in a banger anyway?
Tim: A veritable zoo-full of English animal innards, with just the right amount of spices.
Jill: Yeah, I think I'll pass. I've had enough monkey in my diet lately.

Brad: I'm gonna play professional soccer in England. You're looking at the newest Birmingham Chubb.
Jill: What are you talking about? What the hell is a Birmingham Chubb?
Brad: Simon's team.
Jill: Who the hell is Simon?
Brad: The owner of the Chubbs.
Jill: We're not getting anywhere.