Geoffrey: Goodbye everyone. I'm off for the weekend.
Ashley: Bye, Geoffrey. I hope you enjoy your butlers' convention.
Geoffrey: Goodbye, Miss Ashley.
Will: Yo, G, G. I always wondered what y'all be doing at them joints. What is it, like reminiscing about Mr. French?
Geoffrey: Actually, we'll be reminiscing about Benson. It's the Black Butlers' Convention. This year's theme is "Get It Your Own Damn Self."

Ashley: I've been through the whole neighborhood and I haven't sold one box of cookies. Even Shelley Winters turned me down.
Hilary: Look, what you need is a different sales strategy. Look, here's one that always worked for me: "Mister, I was going to sell you some cookies, but I tripped on your driveway and I think I broke my ankle. Could you please call my daddy? He's a lawyer. He'll know what to do."

Carlton: Well, as acting head of the household this weekend I think you'll find me tough, yet fair. Firm yet kind.
Will: Hey, besides, man, Hilary's the oldest. She's in charge.
Carlton: But not equipped to lead. She's a figurehead. Like Queen Elizabeth. Dan Quayle. Colonel Sanders. Now, I've typed up a few ground rules. I think you should check this out.
Will: Whoa, whoa, Carlton, come on, man, you gotta loosen up a little bit, man. You're too tight. Wonder you don't sneeze and pop your drawers.
Carlton: Will, please, I'm hardly a stranger to life on the edge. I can't count the number of times I've gone swimming right after eating.