Murray: Did anyone call while I was out?
Erica: Yeah. I wrote it down on the pad.
Murray: Flurt Burtman? Who the hell's Flurt Burtman?
Erica: I don't know. He was talking all fast, 'cause it was important. Anyway, call him back.
Murray: Call who back?! If it's important, I need to know the actual name.
Erica: I don't know. I'm not invested, because it wasn't for me.
Murray: What the hell's this message? "PP"?
Erica: Oh, Barry wrote that. My guess is he either drank too much Mr. Pibb or Pop-Pop called?
Murray: Wait. My dad called? He never uses the phone. He always thinks the Cubans are listening.
Erica: Oh, he calls all the time. He just says, "Tell the moron I'll call him back." Oh, so this is me giving you those dozens of messages.

Mr. Glascott: Figuring out where to sit, eh?
Adam: Yeah.
Mr. Glascott: Ah, that's a sad dance that I know all too well. But lucky for you, I'm a guidance counselor, and I can guide you to lunchroom success.
Adam: Um, maybe I could sit with the preppies?
Mr. Glascott: Come on, man. You want to walk around in boat shoes with no socks? You want to invite that kind of fungus in your life?

Adam: That's right. This woman cheesed the drive, not us. Her!
Mr. Glascott: Whoa! That's a harsh accusation against a faculty member who's here one day a week.
Adam: It's true. She cheesed it. It's her signature culinary move.