Bob: [phone beeps] Oh, she's back, she's back. Tell me what she says.
Mike: "I don't think this is working."
Bob: Really? It's a brand-new phone.
Mike: No, that's what she said. "You're a nice guy, but I think..." Hey, how about I turn this off until after we finish?
Bob: What? Why? What'd she say?
Mike: It seems like she's breaking up with you.
Bob: Why? Why?
Mike: I don't know. You know who's good at talking about this? Anybody else.
Bob: Read it to me. Read me more.
Mike: Bob, this is a little personal. I think you should read it yourself.
Bob: I can't. I can't see anything through the tears.

Mike: Maybe you can win this woman back. You can go to her house right now.
Bob: I can't. I don't know where she lives. I know it's somewhere in New Mexico. I should have gotten her last name back when we were in love.
Mike: Wait. Is this just some Internet woman?
Bob: Just? We danced for each other on iChat. She was the whole package. She had three kids. A little house. A cat. I could have walked right in and had a life. I could have been like you.
Mike: So after the shift, why don't you get some sleep then come by tomorrow night for some dinner? We'll put up some burgers.
Bob: Really? Okay. I'd like that. Thanks, Mike. Can I tell you something... ...I've never told anyone in the whole world?
Mike: No.

Abby Michaels: Oh, my God, you got pretty eyes.
Bob: My grandmother says they're my best feature.

Frankie: I've given her five cups of coffee, she just seems drunker. God. How horrible a person am I to sell a drunk woman a car?
Pete: Do it, you gutless wonder. I'd have sold her matching RVs by now.
Bob: She's totally into my eyes. You think I should make my move while she's still hammered?
Frankie: [scoffs]

Bob: I can't believe you picked me as your partner.
Frankie: [v.o.] Yep, after days of worrying about payback for stealing Pete's customer, it looked like Bob was finally in the clear.
Bob: Ah! That's tight.
Pete: Yes, it is. I don't want you getting away, because I know you stole my customer, you little fink.

Bob: Yeah! Go, Thundering Hens! Whoo!
Brick: Bob, when they say "yards rushing," what does that mean?
Bob: Well, football's a really fascinating game, Brick. It's hard to explain all the particular nuances.
Brick: You don't know, do you?
Bob: I just cheer when everyone else does.

Mike: Look, Brick, I don't have time to talk to you about this now. They're calling the parents down onto the field. Hey, Bob. Keep an eye on him till I get back.
Bob: No problem, Mike. He's safe with me. I'm going for a corn dog. Save my seat.

Bob: [British accent] 'ello, 'ello, blokes. Anybody call for a chimney sweep?
Mike: Jeez.
Frankie: Hi, bob! You look so cute.
Bob: You look so cute!
Frankie: Oh.
Bob: So you couldn't talk crabby pants into the vest, huh?
Mike: Bob, aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?
Bob: Oh, it's not for me. I just donate all the candy to the sick kids in the hospital.
Mike: Mm-hmm. You got a little chocolate on your face there.
Bob: Oh. Hey, listen, big man. I just shotgunned three Pixy Stix. You do not wanna mess with me! [laughs]

Bob: Frankie, this is the new ray of sunshine in my life, Lisa.
Lisa: Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home. I brought my own mashed potatoes.
Frankie: Oh, you didn't need to do that.
Lisa: I'm lactose-intolerant. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor.
Bob: Isn't she amazing?
Brick: [on the phone] Uh, Grandma, I gotta go. A librarian just walked in.
Bob: Is that Pat? [takes the phone] Happy Thanksgiving.

Brick: I love you, Miss Gibbs.
Lisa: I love you, Brick.
[Bob runs off to the bathroom]