Al: Al, listen, I'm already done with the first trimester. Now what if what's left is all good, and we miss out on it?

Al: [laughing] You know, I'm finally starting to understand how she got you. Let me explain something to you. There is no such thing as a trimester. There's actually just one long forty year-mester. Except when they're pregnant, you get what I call the mini-mester. You've got your fat-mester and your puke-mester, and lord in heaven, you got your horny-mester.

Al: Kelly, when I was a kid, there were lots of parties I wasn't invited to. I showed up anyway. I stood there with a big smile on my face, and said, "I'm here." and headed right for the food. Sure, they didn't want me there, but I had a great time. And if they didn't, so what? The point is if you want to be there, be there. Even if they hate you. You're a Bundy. Start acting like one.

Al: Look, Steve. Why don't you do this? Go home, wake up Marcy and say, "Hey, I lost my money. I screwed up, it won't happen again, and what's for supper?" That's what being a man is all about, Steve. Making mistakes and not caring.

Al: Son, let this be a lesson to you: never do tequila shooters within a country mile of a marriage chapel.

Al: Those articles that say married couples have sex every month are just sensationalistic lies perpetrated on the public to sell magazines. It's hooey I tell you, hooey.

Al: Ah, Peg. You're down here. Damn. Then I was dreaming you ran off with the dwarf down at the bookstore, and I was living in sin with a Playboy centerfold and her eight friends who could speak but chose not to.

Al: Everybody, I have an announcement. Your happiness... sickens me. Everybody but me is looking at good times. But for me it's been one long continuous year since I got married. Actually, one long month. Helluary.

Peggy: I tried to get Al to fix the driveway a long time ago. But his philosophy is why improve a home you're only going to live in anyway?

Peggy: Sooo... we've certainly learned a lot about each other. We have no opinions on politics, religion, science, starving people, nuclear holocaust or recycling. The only thing we seem to feel strongly about is we both hate that painting behind Jay Leno.

Kelly: Remember, attraction is a three-way street. Or is it a one-way tunnel? Hmm, in any case, I do know it's a four-lane highway, but it takes two to use the car-pool lane. I guess what I'm trying to say is, what the younger generation has learned is that there's nothing for us to watch on CBS, and you've got to be yourself. A man has to love you for you, not some costume. He's gotta love who you are.

Bud: Well, when I get my degree, from an accredited community college, I might add, I'll be the one with the Lucky Charms, my friends. And I'll be eating them out of the bra cups of my own private breakfast treat, Monique. Here's to the future.
Peggy: What would you like?

Al: A nice juicy steak, medium rare, with little brown potatoes on the right side of the plate, ketchup on the left, where some people waste space with vegetables. And for dessert, a roast beef.

Al: It's not that I couldn't be happy without you, Peg. It's just that I couldn't be happy. Perhaps that is the true Bundy Legacy.

Peggy: I thought the true Bundy Legacy was underwear with just an elastic band.

Kelly: He'll be here. When my daddy says he'll do something he... no, that's my friend Marsha's daddy. But when my daddy puts his mind to something, he... no, that's

Carolyn's daddy. Well, my daddy dear, he knows he's still number one, oh girls just want to have fun. No, that's Cyndi Lauper's daddy. Hmm.

Jackson: What about your daddy?

Kelly: Obviously, he's not here.

Marcy: Oh, it's too bad some men don't know how to give up their sports gracefully instead of lingering on like big babies.

Al: Yeah, doggone it. If we could only be comfortable with our age like you darn gals. You know, I mean, in the morning you go into the bathroom, a little blush, a little mascara and voila. You got an old woman scared of rain. Then you try and clean and jerk your breasts into a bra, ease some exercise pants over that front and back belly, go down to the market and flirt with the bag boy. I guess what I'm trying to say is it's just pretty pathetic when we guys try to cling to our youth.

Al: I don't smell no food. If you expect me to pleasure you, I need what Robert Mitchum needs.

Peggy: A jowl tightening?

Al: No. Beef. Let's have it, baby.