Al: Why did we buy a house with only one bathroom?
Peggy: Because all the other houses in our price range were on fire. Except for that lovely house with no kitchen that I wanted.
Al: Well, we all have our disappointments. I have to sleep with mine.
Peggy: Is that its new name?

Al: You think I'm a loser? Because I have a stinking job that I hate, a family that doesn't respect me, and a whole city that curses the day I was born? Well, that may mean loser to you, but let me tell you something. Every day when I wake up in the morning, I know it's not going to get any better until I go back to sleep. So I get up. I have my watered-down Tang and my still-frozen Pop Tart. I get in my car with no gas, no upholstery and six more payments. I fight honking traffic just for the privilege of putting cheap shoes onto the cloven hooves of people like you. I'll never play football like I wanted to. I'll never know the touch of a beautiful woman. And I'll never know the joy of driving without a bag over my head. But I'm not a loser. Because, despite it all, me and every other guy who'll never be what they wanted to be, is out there, being what we don't want to be, forty hours a week, for life. And the fact that I didn't put a gun in my mouth, you pudding of a woman, makes me a winner!

Bud: "Anything Goes". That's your song, isn't it, Kel?

Bud: Where's Dad?
Peggy: In the bathroom breaking in his new toilet.
Peggy: [Al walks in the living room and sits on the couch] How was it, honey?
Al: I don't know, Peg. I'm constipated. This is the worst day of my life. I wonder if this ever happened to Dad?
Peggy: Aww, honey. Do you want me to undercook you some chicken?
Al: No thanks, Peg. It'll take more than raw poultry to fix what's wrong with me. [Al turns on TV]
Man on TV: And now back to the rest of ABC's lineup, Roseanne and the Emmy winning Thirtysomething.
[Al nods his head, picks up the newspaper and walks back into the bathroom]

Captain: Get with the program, Bundy. You're a disgrace to the hat. Aw, clean your station.
Al: Marry a redhead.

Kelly: [while practicing tap dancing] Nerd-geek-dweeb, duh-weeb-nerd-dork!

Kelly: Bud, look at yourself. Face the ugly truth. They don't have woods deep enough to grow the kind of girls that would be willing to date you. I mean, maybe you're aiming too high. You know, a live girl. See, your problem is, you've got caviar taste and a pizza face. Aim a little lower. Hey, logs can't run away! And then there's the dead. You know, a girl who's been dead long enough might even think that you're a good catch. Hey, I know: how about a nice department store mannequin? I mean, they're used to being undressed by sexless boys.
Bud: Thanks for the help, Bleached Blanket Bimbo.
Kelly: They may call me bimbo, but at least they call me.

Kelly: I didn't ask to be here, and I didn't ask to be born.
Al: Peg?
Peg: Well, it's her time of the month, Al.
Al: What the hell did we bring her for, then?
Bud: Squeak through another month, eh, Kel?
Kelly: Your mother.

Kelly: I'm Kelly. Remember, we met in the boys' shower the other day?
Matt: Oh, yeah, the soup girl.
Kelly: The soap girl. S-O-P-E.

Kelly: Mom, when I grow up I want to be just like you. I want to do nothing, I want to be nothing.

Madam Olga: I feel very strong vibrations here.
Al: [to Peg] Did you leave your toy running under the couch again?
Peg: No, it's in the shop getting turbo charged.

Marcy: If I had my way, I'd have them round up everyone of those inconsiderate savages, bury them up to their necks and run them over with the grain reaper.
Peg: You know, I feel the same way about that Pippi Longstocking girl. God I hate her!

Marcy: If I retain any more water, they could build a pier across my butt.

Marcy: Oh, Peggy, I'm so worried about Steve. He's acting very strangely. Last night we had sex and he wore a sombrero.
Peg: Ooh! The ribbed kind?
Marcy: On his head, Peggy. It's a hat.
Peg: You have to put your foot down. If I didn't, Al world still be wearing the walkman.

Marcy: Steve, don't tell them about your insane quest to create the 99 cent coin.
Steve: Al, I invented the 99 cent coin. Have you ever noticed how things cost $7.99? $14.99? $99.99? My coin will eliminate the messy change that only catches the attention of obnoxious beggars who hassle you on the way to your Mercedes. Think of it, Al. Anything you want, you just plunk down old number 99. It's a plan without flaws.
Al: What about tax?
Steve: You sound just like those fools in the Treasury Department.
Marcy: Well, dear, maybe if you hadn't have insisted on putting your picture on the coin.
Steve: Whose should it have been? Yours? Look, Al, you gotta see your dream through, Buddy. All they can do is laugh at you.
Marcy: And audit you for five straight years.