We’re picking out paint colors tonight so it’s going to be hours of “yes,” “no,” “yes,” “no,” “yes,” “no,” until my world-famous perseverence wears him down and he winds up in a ball on the floor crying like a girl. Wanna come watch?[to Rory]
Yeah, you do know honey, that garbage doesn’t actually talk at all unless it’s on Sesame Street.[to Rory]
Well, we like our internet slow, okay? We can turn it on, walk around, dance, make a sandwich. With DSL, there’s no dancing, no walking, and we’d starve. It’d be all work and no play. Have you not seen “The Shining”, Mom?
This is it. She can finally go to Harvard like she’s always wanted and get the education that I never got and get to do all the things that I never got to do and then I can resent her for it and we can finally have a normal mother-daughter relationship.
The clock stops ringing once I throw it against the wall giving me ample time to fall back to sleep, you however never stop yapping no matter how hard I throw you, thus ensuring the wake up process.[to Rory]
That doesn’t make sense. This is Dean we’re talking about. He’s crazy about you. He calls like 25 times a day. Have you seen the cover of his notebook? It’s one step away from stalker material.
Rory’s not going to be a problem. She’s totally low maintenance. You know, like a Honda. You know, they’re just easy, just.. Nice office.[to Headmaster Charleston]
Ok, that will be good for six slow dances, four medium ones, one lambada. But if you plan on doing any moshing, I suggest another coat.[after spraying Rory’s hair]