Georgie: So what's my title here? Manager? Supervisor?
Meemaw: Your title is "grandson who can go home now."
Georgie: What are you talking about? We're in this together.
Meemaw: I'm sorry, did you buy these machines?
Georgie: No, but it was my idea how to get them up and running again.
Meemaw: And thank you. Now, go home before I tell your mother you want to work in a secret casino.
Georgie: Oh, yeah? Maybe I should tell her you own a secret casino.
Meemaw: Is that the way you want to play this?
Georgie: Yeah, it is.

Georgie: What are you doing?
George: Separating the whites from the colors.
Georgie: Whoa, that's racist.

Georgie: Maybe you should go across the street and apologize.
George: I can't do that.
Georgie: Why not?
George: 'Cause if I do, it sets a bad precedent.
Georgie: What's Nixon got to do with it?
George: What?
Georgie: You said "bad president," like Nixon. You know, this guy.

Georgie: Mornin'.
Mary: Mornin'.
Georgie: I slept in the nude last night. Felt every little breeze.
[Sheldon slides his food away]
Mary: Thank you for sharing that.
Georgie: You're welcome.

Meemaw: I'll tell you what, we're in the gambling business, why don't we gamble for it?
Georgie: Okay.
Meemaw: Great. The number I'm thinking of in my head... is it odd or even?
Georgie: How dumb do you think I am?
Meemaw: In my defense, you used to be dumber.

Meemaw: How much did Dale pay you?
Georgie: Uh, minimum wage plus five percent commission.
Meemaw: I'll give you half of that.
Georgie: So, two and a half percent commission?
Meemaw: No, half of the minimum wage part.
Georgie: What about a percentage of these?
Meemaw: [laughs] Yeah, right.
Georgie: I'm serious. If it wasn't for me, none of this would be happening.
Meemaw: I'm your grandmother. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be happening.

Sheldon: [knocks on door] Missy, I know you're upset. Would you like a hot beverage?
Missy: [o.s.] Go away.
Adult Sheldon: Every culture has their taboos. In the Ukraine, it's rude to whistle indoors, and they're correct. Not a fan. In our society, any discussion of human reproduction seems to be so upsetting, it causes nothing but chaos. Lost jobs. Lost friends. Sleepless nights. Even the word "sex" provokes an uncomfortable reaction. I thought "fornicate" might work, but that seemed too judgy. Then I found the perfect word, a word so bland and clinical that it would be impossible to take offense to it.
Sheldon: "Coitus." That'll work.