Meemaw: So, you talk to June lately?
Dale: Uh, not in a couple of days. Why?
Meemaw: Oh, no reason. I was just kind of thinking about calling her myself. I mean, if you're okay with that.
Dale: You want to call my ex-wife, go ahead. Call her.
Meemaw: Well, I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable.
Dale: Yeah, you would.
Meemaw: Yeah, I would.

Meemaw: I'll have the rib eye, medium rare.
Waiter: And for you?
Dale: Uh, just the house salad, please.
Waiter: Very good.
Meemaw: House salad? You watching your figure?
Dale: I have a physical tomorrow.
Meemaw: Oh, so your plan is to start eating healthy now?
Dale: Can't hurt.
Meemaw: It ain't gonna undo years of red meat and beer.
Dale: I'm not trying to undo it, I'm just trying to hide it under some lettuce.

Meemaw: Where we eating tonight?
Dale: Well, that depends. Why don't you look in the glovebox and check on the Tums situation.
Meemaw: There's five.
Dale: Oh, my, this is tricky. Well, Mexican's at least three apiece.
Meemaw: We might get by with two each if it's Italian.
Dale: You get red wine and then tomato sauce. Hey, if they put lemon in the water, we're dead.
Meemaw: Hmm. That leaves barbecue.
Dale: Sold.
Meemaw: Who gets Tum number three?
Dale: Me. They're my Tums.

Georgie: [o.s.] Did you like school?
Dale: Hated it. I quit and I joined the Army.
Georgie: [o.s.] How was that?
Dale: Less girls, more getting shot at.
Georgie: [enters] Well, at least you made it out alive.
Dale: Well, then I got married. Made me kind of miss getting shot at.
Georgie: Have you ever been happy?
Dale: Ooh, let's see. No.

Ms. Hutchins: Hi, George.
George: Oh, hey, Ms. Hutchins. I don't think I've ever seen you at a game before.
Ms. Hutchins: Well, uh, it's Friday, and I promised my therapist I'd try one new thing a week.
George: And you picked football. Good for you.
Ms. Hutchins: I don't suppose Sheldon's here?
George: Nah, he doesn't much care for outdoor sports. Or sports. Or the outdoors.

George: Oh, my God. Are you okay?
Ms. Hutchins: I don't think so.
George: [to Coach Wilkins] Call an ambulance. [to Ms. Hutchins] Don't worry, we're gonna get you taken care of.
Ms. Hutchins: If I die, tell my therapist I hate him.

Sheldon: Did he apologize?
Mary: No. He is very upset with you.
Sheldon: Well, I'm upset with him.
Mary: That doesn't excuse you from trying to get him in trouble by calling Dr. Linkletter.
Sheldon: Who else was I supposed to tattle to? I doubt his mother's still alive.