Mr. Glascott: Well, your "beloved institution" is the reason I tore my rotator cuff.
Barry: How'd you do it? Were you running against the lifeguard's orders?
Mr. Glascott: I was merely riding my favorite slide, the Atomic Tsunami.
Barry: The Atomic Tsunami rules.
Mr. Glascott: I hit a dry spot in the Funnel Tunnel and found myself stuck backwards in complete darkness. A mere ribbon of light to let me know that I was still of this earth.
Adam: I couldn't figure out the handle on a porta-potty once, so I feel ya.
Mr. Glascott: First person to crash into me was a boy named Oliver. We had a moment to introduce ourselves. Then came the others.
Adam: Dear God.
Mr. Glascott: That's what I said, over and over again, as teen after slippery teen slammed into my contorted body.
Barry: So how did you get out and end up here whining about it?
Mr. Glascott: Finally, the pressure became too much and we exploded down Wizard's Wash. Alone and terrified, I also realized that I swallowed a tremendous amount of water and Band-Aids.

Coach Mellor: What, you got no argument for that one?
Mr. Glascott: No, you're right. That movie has shaken me to my core. I have so many regrets.
Coach Mellor: You got about a week to fix 'em, Andre.
Mr. Glascott: Well, let's start with that one right there. My name is not Andre. I only said it was in college to make myself seem more interesting to the ladies.
Coach Mellor: Let it out.
Mr. Glascott: My name is Jonathan. And I love you, Lunch Lady Bernice! Are you out there? You're probably mashing potatoes.

Mr. Glascott: I can't take this anymore. You want your kids in, they're in.
Pops: Oh, great! Which one?
Mr. Glascott: I don't know! Both of them? None of them? I really don't care! I mean, it's a stupid freakin' high school talent show! I had one moment of weakness where I tried to do something kind for your son. I apologize! All I care about now is that I owe 20 grand in student loans, I live in a studio apartment above a steaming hot dry cleaner, and I have a second job where I work as a pizza man, and occasionally I get to deliver pizzas to my students. Oh, also I have a parrot that I can't get rid of. They live for 80 years. Did you know that? Nobody tells you about that. You have to put them in your will! It's a nightmare! So, yeah, do whatever you wanna do, 'cause I really don't care!

Mr. Glascott: I've been in a long distance relationship for the past seven years.
Murray: Really?
Mr. Glascott: Ellen lives in Tampa. And I'm lucky, too, because Ellen has a male roommate to keep an eye on her when we're apart.
Murray: She lives with a guy?
Mr. Glascott: Yeah, Todd. He's a life guard, so he can totally give her CPR if she ever gets in any trouble. He's a real stud. I mean, does he even own a shirt?
Adam: See, Dad, it can work.
Murray: Kid, pay attention. This might be helpful to you. This long distance girlfriend you got. You see her much?
Mr. Glascott: Well, not since she went to Paris. And of course Todd tagged along, since he speaks French. He's a good egg.
Murray: It sounds like she's with this Todd guy.
Mr. Glascott: No, no, no. She's taking his last name for insurance purposes. Point is, long distance can work.
Adam: I wanna believe you, but your story has some holes.

Mr. Glascott: Let me get this straight. You don't struggle getting out of bed every morning because, what's the point?
Murray: No.
Mr. Glascott: You don't desperately fear being alone again at Thanksgiving?
Murray: No.
Mr. Glascott: You've never faced the bottom of an ice-cream pint and thought, "Screw it. I'm going again"?
Murray: No.
Mr. Glascott: You don't write "Help me" in steam on the shower door?
Murray: What?
Mr. Glascott: Nothing. Okay, well, look. I'm glad that we could help you, Mr. Goldberg. If you guys don't mind, I need to take a personal day.

Mr. Glascott: Look into your heart. Who would you rather be a ward to?
Adam: I just wanna make movies, man!
Mr. Perott: Then go make 'em, Adam.
Mr. Glascott: The boy needs to attend college. His she‐devil mother demands it.
Adam: Wait, my mom was behind this?
Mr. Glascott: Ah. Yes. Dang it. And I dress up like Prince on the weekends. The secret is out. [chuckles] She can't hurt me now.

Adam: I know you'll say I'm wrong, but I feel how I feel. The world is a bag of hot, festering crap.
Mr. Glascott: Mm-hmm.
Adam: What do you mean, "Mm-hmm?"
Mr. Glascott: I agree. The world is crap in a bag.
Adam: What? Aren't you gonna try to make me feel better?
Mr. Glascott: Do you know I get followed by store security at the pharmacy? I'm a 55-year-old man in an argyle sweater vest. What am I stealing? More mustache shampoo?
Adam: You use a separate product for your mustache?
Mr. Glascott: It's a very different hair. But you're missing the point... the world is terrible.
Adam: But if it's all bad, how do we fix it?
Mr. Glascott: All you can do is chip away. For me, it's trying to get the board to change our textbooks. They're outdated and biased. Did you know that the chapter on Civil Rights is basically a fold-out of Lyndon B. Johnson? If you open the third page, you can see half of Martin Luther King Jr.'s face. Sadly, he's misidentified as Lou Rawls.

Adam: Mr. Glascott, you have a minute?
Mr. Glascott: Uh, sure. Let me just put these away. [grunting] Ow! King of kings! My buttocks.
Adam: I know about your shoulder, but what happened to your...
Mr. Glascott: Delicate rump? It's a delayed injury from the water slide. I woke up this a.m. with a purpled haunch.
Adam: I'm just gonna start. I need to juice up my high school resume if I'm gonna get into NYU.
Mr. Glascott: Getting involved in a cause or a charity always looks good. And right now, there's a lone, broken man fighting the good fight, and he sure could use some help collecting signatures.
Adam: That's a great idea. I'll help Barry save the water park.
Mr. Glascott: I'm talking about me.
Adam: But Barry's on the side of an adored local business. You're like the mean, old developer trying to close down the community center.
Mr. Glascott: Developer? I can't even afford two pieces of bread. Every sandwich I make is open-faced. I say it's bruschetta, but it is not.
Adam: Have you considered folding the bread?
Mr. Glascott: Just go do your thing! Aw, my fundament.

Jane Bales: Are you in the market for a new home? [hands Mr. Glascott a flyer]
Mr. Glascott: Oh, I wish. I'm your classic lookie-loo. [Jane takes the flyer back] I'm currently living above a Bengali restaurant. The intense spices permeate my bedroom, causing a rare condition called "curry eye."
Jane Bales: Ugh. Now I know things about you.

Mr. Glascott: Howdy, neighbor.
Beverly: What time is it?
Mr. Glascott: It is 6:31 in the glorious morning. One minute after neighborhoods across the globe officially open for biz.
Beverly: It's barely light outside.
Mr. Glascott: You know, I used to live overlooking a limestone quarry. That giant, watery pit held so many mysteries. And, for some reason, a Safeway shopping cart.
Beverly: The street lights are still on.
Mr. Glascott: I made strudel. Be careful cutting it. My first rent check is baked inside.
Beverly: That's fun, I guess.
Mr. Glascott: Oh, it was an accident. You know what? Let's plate it before the caramel smudges the ink.