Francis: Oh, my god, you're crazy! I just thought you were evil, but you are nuts!
Ida: What are you talking about?
Francis: Grandma, gifts aren't conditional. They're gifts. You give them to people because you love them! They're not something you can take away because of some petty slight! You're not teaching people anything You haven't got back at them. They don't even know they've upset you! All you've done here is... is constructed a monument to your own insanity! What kind of a person does that?
Ida: A lonely, bitter, old woman.
Francis: What?
Ida: [sighs] Look what I've done. What use is all this things to me now? They could have brought someone some happiness. Instead they rot here. Oh.
Francis: Grandma?
Ida: My hea- My heart. I think it's... melting. Yes, it's melting. Oh. You've shown me the way, Francis, by yelling at me. Quick. Go get my magic sled and me and my reindeers will go and give Christmas to all the mean, stupid, rude people! We'll all join hands and sing songs and we'll sprinkle the ingrates with fairy dust!

Ida: [card plays "Jingle Bells"] You do this to torture me? To hurt me?!
Francis: You don't like Christmas music?
Ida: It sounds like a song they sang when they rode through villages throwing babies on the fire!
Francis: They sang Jingle Bells?
Ida: They sang something.

Francis: Well, look at that. 8pm already. Way past bedtime. Where do I sleep?
Ida: You're sittin' on it.
Francis: Does it turn into a bed?
Ida: Yes, it becomes a bed. It's a special magic sofa. It opens up for magic lazy boy. And the angels come and feed you grapes and sing to you while you sleep. And it flies around the room granting wishes for boys what are stupid.
Francis: Alright, it doesn't fold out.

[After Francis repeatedly opens the Christmas card so "Jingle Bells" plays, Ida snaps and stabs him in the thigh with her knitting needle]
Francis: Ow! God, what the hell's wrong with you?!
Ida: You like pushing me? That's what happens when you push me, tough guy!
Francis: Can't you do the entire family a favor and just die! All you have ever done is treat us like dirt. You shouldn't even be allowed to be a Grandma!
Ida: Are you finished?
Francis: Yes, I am- [Ida pokes Francis's wound] Argh, God!
Ida: Oh, I am so sorry! I should've kissed your boo-boos and made 'em better. I was supposed to tell the bad little boy stories and bake you giant sugar cookies and knit you fluffy sweaters, I should have carried you and held you, and told you how much I loved your diapers.
Francis: Why don't you just unhinge your jaw and finish me off?
Ida: After Magnum P.I.

Francis: Who's this?
Ida: That is your grandfather when he was [hiccups] young man.
Francis: Euch! Tell me that eyebrow isn't genetic.
Ida: You and him. Both the same. Always had to have your own way. Nothing ever good enough. Always had to fight everything. Victor always had to be so independent. Left home when he was 11, lived on his own, got to work on farm, ploughin' the fields. Like a man. Worked 18 hours a day. Had to sleep with the pigs. But he never complained. [struggles to unlock drawer] He was strong. He made something of himself. Nobody like that anymore. Everybody's too soft.
Francis: Hey, Grandma, why don't you let me help you with that?
Ida: [slaps Francis's hand away] Your grandfather was tough! He didn't take anything from anybody. He was proud. A man of honor. He was a wonderful, wonderful man. [mumbles in Russian]
Francis: Grandma? Grandma?
[After Ida passes out with a cigarette in her mouth, Francis nudges her to check she's okay. The cigarette falls out of her mouth and onto her nightie.]
Francis: Oh! Oh, God!
[After the cigarette burns through the fabric, Francis bends down and sticks his hand between her legs to grab the cigarette. He groans and pours vodka over his hand]

Francis: Oh, Grandma, what are all these things? I mean, look at this. There must be a thousand dollars worth of stuff in here.
Ida: $2,735. $4,500 Canadian.
Francis: What are they doing in your closet?
Ida: They're gifts. For the family, for relatives, for friends-
Francis: But you never give presents. Oh, my God! Donatello with pizza-throwing action?! I wanted one of these when I was six!
Ida: I know. I bought it for you.
Francis: No, you didn't.
Ida: Yes, I did. And then, right before Christmas, your mommy put you on the phone, you call me "Poopy" and hung up.
Francis: Is that the breadmaker Mom was asking for last year?
Ida: If she wants bread so much, she should write back when her mother writes to her. Oh, this was for cousin Nicola. I spent a day shopping for it. Then she marries a Protestant. That camera? For your father. Right before he refused to drive me to the liquor store. All the nice things I do for people.

Malcolm: [to camera] Reese has had the remote for four hours. That's four hours of mindless crap in five second increments. [to Reese] You go to the bathroom, you lose the remote!
Reese: Fine. I can wait.
Malcolm: I dunno. You drank a lot of soda. It must really be pressing on your bladder.
Reese: Not gonna work.
[later:]
Malcolm: And then I had four glasses of Dad's iced tea. He just kept pouring and pouring.
Reese: Not gonna work.
[later:]
Malcolm: The equivalent of 3 semi-trailers of water pour over the falls every second.
Reese: Not gonna work.
[later, Malcolm slurps a drink:]
Reese: Not gonna... work!
Malcolm: [to camera] Turns out this is way better than anything on TV.

Lois: I have had it!
Malcolm: What are you doing?
Lois: I am taking everything! Every present, every decoration, every treat. I am locking it in the garage. Every single Christmas, you three burn or break or destroy, and I am putting a stop to it!
Dewey: She's stealing Christmas!
Malcolm: Mom, you can't do this!
Reese: Yeah, this is the last year Dewey will believe in Santa Claus.
Dewey: What?!
Lois: If you boys behave until Christmas morning, there will be a Christmas morning. Otherwise, these are going back to the store and Christmas will be cancelled!
Reese: You wouldn't cancel Christmas. You're bluffing.
[cut to Reese sobbing as he watches his stocking burn in the fireplace]

Francis: [reading an old Newsweek] I really think we can win this 'Nam thing.

[Ida walks out onto the balcony with a plate of rice squares as she hears the Christmas carolers approaching]
Ida: Stop that racket! [throws squares] People are trying to sleep! Your stupid music! There's no figgy pudding for you!