Al: You know, Ilene, I resent your attitude towards my mother. She's a wonderful, giving woman who lights up all the lives she touches.
Ilene: Oh, please! I am so sick of you putting your mother up on a pedestal!
Jill: [quietly to Tim] You got to admire him for having the strength to hoist her up there. Oh, my God! I'm turning into you.
Tim: It's kind of fun, isn't it?

Tim: We really have to get there. Is there a car-rental counter here?
Clerk: Of course. [removes the "Ticket Counter" sign and puts up a "Pilgrim Car Rental" sign] Now, what kind of car would you like? We're running a special on convertibles.
Tim: It's four degrees outside.
Clerk: Then I'd advise you to leave the top up.
Al: Could you give us a map so we could find our way to Kinross?
Clerk: No problem. I don't think the map is going to do you much good.
Al: Why not?
Clerk: The roads are closed.
Tim: Well, why are we renting a car if we can't drive it anywhere?
Clerk: I was wondering the same thing myself.

Tim: Well, it looks like we're going to make it home in time for Christmas, Al.
Al: The only problem is I still don't know what to do about Ilene and my mother. How can I choose between the woman who means more to me than anything, or my girlfriend?

Al: Oh, that's my beeper. I wonder who that is.
Tim, Jill & Ilene: Your mother.
Al: Can I use your phone?
Jill: Yeah, sure.
Ilene: That's the fourth time she's beeped him this morning.
Jill: I can imagine Al's mother would put stress on any relationship.
Tim: Al's mother could put stress on a 20-ton steel beam.

Tim: Excuse me. Could you tell us where the main terminal is?
Clerk: Take two giant steps forward.
Al: Is there still a chance we can make it to Kinross?
Clerk: I don't see how. There'll be no more flights in or out until the storm's over.
Al: But this is an emergency!
Clerk: Ah, the hospital has a special helicopter. What's the emergency?
Al: We're leading an elf parade.
Clerk: Try me again when you're donating a kidney.

Al: On the other hand, she is my mother. But on the other hand, Ilene could be the mother of my children. On the other hand...
Tim: Al, that's eight hands. Why don't you take one of them and slap yourself? [Al's beeper rings]
Woman: Excuse me. Are you by any chance a doctor?
Tim: No. He's a mama's boy.

Tim: All right. Great news, guys. This year you're going to help me beat Doc Johnson in the lighting contest.
Mark: Cool. I can't believe you're going to let us help this year.
Tim: Well, you've earned it. You're a year older, more mature, more responsible.
Randy: And since you're going out of town, you have no choice.
Tim: Hey, hey, hey! What have I always taught you what Christmas is all about?
Randy: Beating the pants off an 80-year-old proctologist in a lighting contest.
Tim: That's the spirit.

Jill: I just don't understand why you have to go away the day before Christmas.
Tim: We've been through this before. Binford is the proud sponsor of this year's Winterfest in Kinross, and Al and I playing very important roles.
Jill: Tim, you are a grand marshal of an elf parade!
Tim: Even little green people need a leader, honey.
Jill: Well, I don't know how you can leave me for a bunch of elves.
Tim: Well, I'll be home before dinner. I'm not gonna go to the pointy-shoe banquet.

Tim: Thank you, Heidi and everyone. I am Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor. And you all know my assistant, Al "Be Quarantined for Christmas" Borland. Today, Al and I start out our week-long salute... to electricity.
Al: That's right, and that's why we're wearing the flash suits worn by professional electricians. You can take up to 20,000 volts and not get electrocuted.
Tim: Yeah. But, Al... But they look so darn cool, don't they? It's like the 90s way of saying, "Hey, I'm not gonna get fried!"
Al: Notice Tim's flame-resistant parka and color-coordinated insulated gloves. It boasts a safety helmet with UV face-shield and it's tastefully accessorized by this matching tote bag. You know, you might want to wear these when you put up your Christmas lights this weekend. [snorts]
Tim: Actually, I'm way ahead of you. With this outfit I can safely replace my measly seven-watt bulbs with these 500-watt bad boys right here, huh?
Al: You could light up an airport runway with that much wattage on your roof.
Tim: Well, maybe it's time for old St. Nick to trade in that old sleigh for the new Boeing 777 fly-by-wire.

Ilene: Al, I can't believe you!
Al: What?
Ilene: I thought we were gonna be alone for a change. Once again your mother has to wedge herself between us.
Tim: That's a hell of a big wedge.
Jill: Tim!