Kitty: Okay, you're right. Eric's fine. Let's just talk about something else. [laughs]
Bob: Ooh! You know, Joanne taught me a lot about lady orgasms. They've been around longer than I thought.
Kitty: Okay, so talking's bad.

Bob: Red, you don't seem like the type of guy who'd get a dog. Being that you're unfriendly.
Red: Yeah, I know. I just wanted to do something to cheer Kitty up.
Bob: Well, if you really wanted to cheer her up, you should've bought her a banjo.
Red: A banjo, Bob?
Bob: You can't hold a banjo and not smile.
Red: You can't hold a potato chip and not smile.

Bob: Okay, I'd like to thank everyone for coming back here with me. True, it is the place of my greatest humiliation. But the fish is good, the sake's strong, and these Japanese people are funny to watch.
Donna: That's the spirit, Dad. The slightly offensive spirit.

Bob: Eric is a mental midget. And you know what else? He runs like a girl.
Red: Bob, you run like a girl.
Bob: Only when I'm scared of something.
Pamela: Oh, honey, I'm sure Eric has a good explanation. On the several occasions I didn't show up for one of my weddings, I always called to say I had appendicitis.
Bob: Well, Eric's not here, my little girl's unhappy, and I want to punch somebody.
Kitty: Bob, you don't want to fight. I've known you for a long time, and I know what you really want is a piece of cake.
Bob: A piece of cake, Kitty? My daughter is devastated, and you offer me cake? You just tell me one thing, is it chocolate?
Kitty: Devil's food. I can have it on the table in less than a minute.
Bob: Eh, let's do that, then.

Bob: Who's got a bad muffler?
Red: See? Even Bob knows when a car sounds off.
Bob: I never know what you mean by "even Bob," but I like to assume it's a compliment.

Bob: Here you go, Red. Your very first paycheck.
Red: Thanks, Bob. You know, I... I really appreciate the job.
Bob: Yeah, I just wish you had a commission check in there.
Red: Well, I haven't sold a damn thing.
Bob: Yet. But if I paid people for almost selling something you'd be rich. But I don't. So you're not.

Bob: Oh, no, no, no. Donna's not going near that pretzel boy. No, no. You've got to nip this in the bud, Eric.
Red: All right. All right. The bridge of the nose is very vulnerable.
Bob: Oh, oh. And hit him with a banjo.
Red: A banjo, Bob?
Bob: What? I'm helping.
Red: Where is he gonna get a banjo?
Bob: I don't know. But I saw a guy get hit with a banjo once, and he went down.
Red: Hitting a guy with a banjo is dirty. You wanna knee him in the groin.
Bob: You can hit him in the groin with a banjo.

Bob: Oh, hi, honey. Your mom and I are going out tonight. It's happy hour at Swingles.
Donna: What's Swingles?
Bob: It's a singles' bar.
Midge: No, it's a swingers' bar.
Bob: Yeah, it's both.
Donna: And you're neither.
Bob: Don't get involved, Donna. This is grown-up stuff.

Bob: [enters] Hey, Donna, Eric, glad you're here. Great news.
Midge: Your father and I had sex.
Donna: Oh, my God.
Bob: In the car.
Donna: Oh, my God!
Eric: Well, that's... super! Hey, isn't that... Is that super, Donna?
Donna: So, are you guys, like, back together?
Bob: Oh, no.
Midge: Yeah, why ruin a good thing?

Bob: Hey, Red. I've been thinking about your offer and I want you to know, I made a decision.
Red: Oh, goody.
Bob: But I need you to ask me again.
Red: [clears throat] Bob, would you, uh like a job at Price Mart?
Bob: Say it like you mean it.
Red: Go to hell, Bob!