Erica: You know us. We can't be trusted to follow the rules.
Barry: And every moment is touch-and-go with me.
Erica: And I'm no day at the beach, either.
Geoff: I-I know I don't have a lot going on...
Barry: Like nothing.
Erica: I'm secretly worried.
Barry: Then it's settled. Geoffrey will be the arbiter of everything that happens within these seven walls.
Geoff: Seven?
Barry: And it starts now! Excuse me while I clip my angry, jagged toenails on Erica's bed.
Erica: Geoff-er-ee?
Geoff: Bar, maybe that's a bathroom task?
Barry: Hmm. That's an interesting fix. Thanks, Geoff-er-ee.

Dave Kim: Dude, your mom's book is a horror show!
Adam: I know, Dave Kim.
Dave Kim: So much tragedy has befallen your people. I can't un-read these things, man! I'm different now.
Adam: I know, Dave Kim.
Dave Kim: How are you gonna tell her she can't submit this?
Adam: I don't know, Dave Kim!

Adult Adam: [v.o.] Yep, I had no idea what I'd tell my mom, until I saw Doc Katman give a master class in bad news.
Dr. Katman: Johnny, I just want to say Rush rules, and so do you.
Johnny Atkins: True, and true. You're a good dude, dude.
Dr. Katman: So are you, Johnny. But that said, you haven't turned in one assignment all semester, so... You're going to flunk again.
Johnny Atkins: Oh, no! The wind's out of my sails!
Dr. Katman: Luckily, you're a badass, so you can take it.
Johnny Atkins: Whoa. You just devastated me with your words, but I feel great about it! Thanks, Doc Whoever-You-Are!
Adam: Doc, I don't get it. You gave Johnny Atkins life-destroying news, and he thanked you for it. How?
Dr. Katman: It's all about the compliment sandwich.
Adam: Compliment sandwich?
Dr. Katman: You simply wedge your criticism, AKA the meat, in between two compliments, AKA the bread.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] Barry and Erica had a new tool to help them coexist.
Erica: Moron, where are the car keys?
Adult Adam: [v.o.] And that tool was Geoff.
Geoff: They're right here. Erica, I made you your own set. And, Barry, I attached your keys to this cumbersome hunk of wood that I painted in Flyers colors.
Barry: Sick! It's like an orange nunchuck that starts my car.
Erica: Whoa. You're killing it, Geoff-er-ee.

Erica: What the hell? Why are they here?
Barry: 'Cause our Geoff-er-ee ruled that it was my JTP night.
Erica: But why did he allow you to throw deadly lawn darts in the wall?
Geoff: The lawn darts were actually a compromise. We started with a fireman's axe.
Andy: There's one on every floor.
Erica: Whatever. Everyone leave. It's after midnight.
Barry: Nuh-uh! Night only starts when I sleep.
Erica: Geoff-er-ee, you're supposed to be preventing this kind of stupidity.
Geoff: Sure, it's my fault for not clearly defining day and night.

Beverly: After receiving mixed reviews on my masterwork, which I took graciously, I am now seeking feedback that's not the demented ramblings of a jealous teenager.
Murray: Yeah, good stuff. If you could just shimmy to the left a little, then the remote can do what it does.
Beverly: I need you to read it and tell me what you think.
Pops: Why us?
Beverly: Well, you're my father, and you'd never lie to me. And Murray will give me an honest opinion 'cause he lacks the filter necessary for polite society.
Pops: You make a fair point. We'll read your overwhelming book.

Beverly: Well, it has come to my attention that you may be right. My cookbook might be a tad heavy on death, despair, and religious persecution.
Adam: And there was more animal violence than I expected.
Beverly: It's just my publisher really wanted me to lean into the history of my food, but that history is pretty damn dark.
Adam: But this cookie doesn't have a dark history to me. Every time I felt down, you'd make me a pan of these, and I always felt better.
Beverly: You did?
Adam: And I think that's what your publisher wants... Stories about this family. And no matter what our day is like, when you cook, we always find happiness on our plates and in our hearts.
Beverly: [groans] Write that! Write that. Write that. Aah, write it!
Adam: No way! I wouldn't know the first thing about writing a cookbook.
Beverly: You're so good at putting emotion into your movies. Just do that.
Adam: I suppose I do know how to tug at the heartstrings in many mediums.
Beverly: Do your thing. Tug away. And it has to be done by tomorrow at 8:00.

Geoff: Whoa!
Barry: Behold, Geoffrey, our elegant tape solution.
Erica: We had to take matters into our own hands because you failed miserably as a Geoff-er-ee.
Geoff: So, you split the room with masking tape, like on I Love Lucy.
Barry: And super smart shows like Brady Bunch and The Munsters.
Geoff: One teeny problem... The door's on Erica's side.
Barry: By choice, bro! I'll use my ninja skills to scale the building and enter through a window.
Erica: And after he falls and dislocates his head, the room will be mine.

Barry: See, Geoffrey, we didn't need you or your pathetic binders. We just needed a roll of this. [tapes nose up] Check it. I'm Erica.
Erica: I will put that over your mouth while you sleep.
Barry: Then my ghost will haunt you by farting directly into your pillow, much like I do in the realm of the living.
Erica: What? I hate you!
Barry: She's hitting me, Geoff!
Erica: Stay over there! Do something!
Barry: This is all your fault, Geoff!
Geoff: Enough! What is wrong with you?
Barry & Erica: Me?
Geoff: I get it. You're siblings. You're not meant to be college roommates. But what's worse than the way you treat each other is how you treat me. Let that stupid tape solve all your problems from now on. I'm done.

Beverly: What was wrong with it?
Harrison Whitby: It's a schmaltz fest! Every word is sappy and cloying. And why do all the recipes end with a hug?
Adam: 'Cause it's the obvious emotional resolution the audience is craving.
Beverly: Damn it, why didn't I stay with the ethnic-cleansing, horse-stompings version?
Harrison Whitby: Because that sounds God-awful, too?
Beverly: Well, what am I supposed to do?
Harrison Whitby: Do better! You've got 48 hours.
Beverly: You want me to rewrite that whole thing? And why 48 hours?
Harrison Whitby: To whip you into a frenzy. All the best work comes from terror. Have fun, now.