Malcolm: [to camera] Angela Pozefsky. She's really cute. I think I might actually have a chance with her. For some reason, no one ever asks her out. Maybe she's so promiscuous she intimidates all the other guys. Yeah, I'm going with that.

Angela: Hello, Malcolm.
Malcolm: Hi, Angela. I'm glad I caught up to you. I was thinking...
Angela: You want to ask me out, don't you?
Malcolm: Well, I was planning to mutter and stumble around for a few minutes first, but yes. You want to go to the Spring Dance?
Angela: Let me save you the trouble. You don't want to go out with me because, before you do go out with me, my family would have to approve, which they won't do without giving you a gigantic third degree. So why don't you just give up now, and let me get on with dying alone.
Malcolm: You're worried about your family? That's not going to bother me.
Angela: Oh, yeah? My family is unbelievably intrusive, overbearing, controlling and humiliating.
Malcolm: You are talking to the right guy.

Lois: Hal, boys, dinner!
Hal: What's this?
Lois: It's Family Fiesta Night! [silence] I went to Mariachi's. I got four kinds of enchiladas, steak and chicken tacos, and a tray of empanadas. [silence]

Lois: [mariachi music plays] Isn't this fun?! [Dewey stops the music] You're right. We don't need music. We have chips. And the important thing is that we're all together enjoying some family time. So let's talk. Who's got a good story?
Reese: Well, today, my mom lost her mind.
Hal: Reese.
Lois: Look, I went to a lot of trouble here, and I know you boys like this stuff, so... what's the problem?
Malcolm: Mom, any way you dress it up, it's not Luigi's.
Lois: Luigi's pizza wasn't the point. The food is not what matters. What matters is that we're sitting here together enjoying each other's company.
Dewey: If you believe that, then why'd you buy all the Mexican food?
Lois: Fine! Mexican food goes in the trash! [exits]
Hal: Olé.

Francis: This butter is just sitting here like a cube on my toast. It's not... doing that thing that Jordan does.
Piama: Spreading?
Francis: Yeah!
Piama: Francis, this has to stop. I liked the flowers you had Jordan send me, and the poem he wrote was very sweet, but you're turning into a helpless infant. If Jordan hadn't wandered in on you in the men's room yesterday, you'd still be stuck in there.
Francis: I would've figured it out. No, I wouldn't have. You're right. I'll let him go. It's for the best.

Francis: Jordan, there's something I have to talk to you about. The thing is...
Jordan: You need to let me go.
Francis: Well, yeah, and...
Jordan: You feel terrible about this, but you can't keep me, even though I've done an outstanding job.
Francis: Yeah, I'm...
Jordan: Sorry. Of course you are. But you've written me a wonderful letter of recommendation. And let me thank you in advance for the muffin basket you'll be sending. It's not too expensive, but I will appreciate the thought. Good-bye, sir. [offers hand]
Francis: Good-bye. [holds hand]
Jordan: It's best to squeeze now, sir.