Adam: Stop bunting!
Murray: I can't stop bunting!
Adam: Just push the "pause" button.
Murray: Well, which is the "pause" button?
Adam: Stop mashing the buttons with your giant sausage fingers.

Barry: You're running. That's against the rules. But I'll allow it 'cause I don't care.

Beverly: Oh, it hurts. Ow! Something happened in my downstairs. It's just north of my vajingo.

Murray: We'll order Chinese.
Barry: Oh, no, you won't! The stakes are too high. I need this meal. I need to be knocked motionless by meat and gravy. I need to eat until my pants grow tight and I move into elastic sweats. Will I ever touch that weird, gloppy cranberry thing? Probably not. But I deserve to find out. Give me this. Give me Thanksgiving.

Beverly: I'm sorry, love bug. I tried, but I can't. My groin is out of commission.
Barry: Then let me be your groin.

Beverly: You're burning the rolls. I didn't say 600. I said 375.
Barry: I'm not a scientist!

Beverly: You haven't even cleaned the turkey yet.
Barry: I told you I'm not reaching my hand in a turkey's butt! No way!

Beverly: You came home.
Erica: I guess I didn't want to miss out on our tradition.
Beverly: Oh, my little turkey. I cooked you in my oven!

Beverly: Well, make fun all you want, but you wouldn't last a minute in my class.
Erica: I get the feeling I'd manage.
Beverly: Put your money where your mouth is, come to class with me. When you collapse halfway through from exhaustion, I win. And then, we jazzercise three days a week for a month.
Erica: So, somehow, this has become a ploy to get me to hang with you?
Beverly: It is moving in that direction, yes.

Adam: Yes! First place!
Murray: What is this? What am I looking at?
Adam: It's "Track & Field." I just won a gold medal.
Murray: A video game with people running and jumping. Why don't you go outside and run and jump like a regular kid?