Mondays 9:00 PM on CBS

Molly: You're doing a great job of sticking to your diet, sweetie.
Mike: Well, since you're set on me wearing white tux at the wedding, I'd rather look like refrigerator than a milk truck.

You don't need to sweat the vows. I've heard you wax poetic for 20 minutes about a chunk of lasagna.


Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm getting married in three months, and I've got squat. I don't remember writing any of this.


Did I dream this, or last night were you drunk in the backyard throwing a knife at a tree?

Victoria [to Molly]

Carl: If I die before you and you have to write my eulogy, compare me to chicken piccata.
Mike: Done.

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