Principal Ball: Coach Nick, we got a fresh cucumber ready to be brined. Coach him up.
Coach Nick: Never. I'm done with you pushing your filthy pickle in my gym.
Principal Ball: Please remember, words matter, and I am the principal of this school.
Coach Nick: And I am the principal of this gym.
Principal Ball: The gym is inside the school, so I am principal of both.
Coach Nick: Damn it. That tracks. But I'll still never coach this sorry excuse for a sport.
Principal Ball: Yeah, seems like Coach Nick's got some stuff going on. Why don't you just jump out there and show us what you got?
Adam: Hey, everyone. [chuckles] Let's have some fun.
Matt Scherneke: Fresh dill coming your way.
Adam: Oh, that seems cute... [groans]
Matt Scherneke: Welcome to the pickle, bitch.
Principal Ball: Such a regal game. [Adam groans]

Erica: Yo, where's your checkbook? There's a shirt I want. I mean... I need to recharge my hug batteries.
Pops: Has college taught you nothing? You open with the hug nonsense.

Erica: Cheggit, it's Dad's birth certificate. Whoa. He was a big baby.
Pops: They didn't even bother with the ounces.
Erica: He's actually a year younger than we thought he was.
Beverly: Wait. That can't be right.
Pops: Trust me, Bev, the feds don't get this stuff wrong.
Erica: Full disclosure... I thought Dad was in his mid-60s.
Beverly: If this is real, then that means Murray is turning 50 again, which means I get a redo.
Pops: That's your takeaway?
Erica: I wish I could redo coming over here.
Beverly: By the power vested in me by me, I am throwing Murray a second 50th birthday party.
Erica: Yeah, I don't think he's gonna be excited about the party or the life-changing error that will rock him to his core.
Beverly: Pishposh. Murray is gonna be thrilled to hear the great news.

Murray: What the hell am I?
Beverly: 50! [laughs] Now you get to enjoy the unspeakably grand second 50th extravaganza that I am somehow gonna pull together at the last minute.
Murray: I'm sorry. I-I'm kinda reeling here. My whole life's been a lie.
Beverly: Big-time. If I had to guess, it's that your hateful father screwed up yet another detail of your childhood. But, hey, cake and presents.
Murray: That rotten bastard.

Beverly: Just go talk to him, tell him how you feel.
Murray: Oh, I'm gonna talk to him, all right. I'm gonna talk to him good.
Beverly: And also give him this invitation.
Murray: How did you get these printed up so quickly?
Beverly: I get things done. Now you go get this done with your dad so we can finally have my party... Your party. Your party. [chuckles]

Adam: Barry, I need your help.
Barry: [sighs] No can do, bro. I've got a midterm.
Adam: But I have a sports emergency.
Barry: [swipes his books off the table] Say no more. But first, say more. What is the sport?
Adam: Pickleball.
Barry: You will be a champion within hours.
Adam: You can do that?
Barry: [chuckles] Your relentless training begins now.

Adam: Wax on, wax off. This is how Daniel-san learned basic defensive karate moves.
Barry: And how to apply an important coat of wax before it rains.
Adam: Barry... You do know how to play pickleball, don't you?
Barry: Till today, I never heard of pickleball.
Adam: So this was just you sitting on me and winging pickles at my head and having me clean your car?
Barry: Totally. Wouldn't it be cool if those things actually made you good at pickleball?

Murray: Where you been? I've been out here five minutes.
Pop-Pop: Oh, I thought you were that busybody lady from across the street who's always trying to bring me food, make sure I'm okay.
Murray: Open the door next time, have a conversation, that'll get rid of her.

Pop-Pop: What is that? Deed to your fancy house? Came here to rub it in my face? Nicely played.
Murray: It's my birth certificate. It says I'm a year younger than I thought.
Pop-Pop: Yeah. Well, oops.
Murray: "Oops"? How the hell did this happen?
Pop-Pop: I was busy. I didn't have time for things like birthdays or meals or wherever the hell you were.
Murray: So, you've known about this my whole life?
Pop-Pop: No, no. Not your whole life. I noticed it when you were about 12... Or, I guess, 11.
Murray: Unbelievable.
Pop-Pop: Oh, come on. What difference did it make?
Murray: The difference of a year.

Pop-Pop: Can I just say something?
Murray: Yeah, give me your half-assed apology.
Pop-Pop: I wasn't going to apologize. What I was gonna say was that if anybody handed me an extra year, I wouldn't spend it complaining about not getting a pony.
Murray: Transistor radio!
Pop-Pop: There he goes again.