Being a realtor man means working on sundays. Like priests and Lesley Stahl.

I'm kind of in a delicate spot stuck between my wife and the guy next door, but I'm pretty sure I can satisfy them both simultaneously.

Claire: You gonna put some blood on that? Maybe dangle an eyeball?
Phil: Who hurt you? I'm kidding, I know it's Jay and Dede.

Claire: Welcome to the insane asylum of from hell!
Phil: That's what it feels like.

Phil: Sometimes a boy might be a good distraction. I remember a certain young lady who was pretty addicted to Miss Pacman until a dashing young gent caught her eye.
Claire: Only because you were wearing a feather earring.
Phil: It wasn't a feather, it was a dreamcatcher. And it worked.

Haley: Did anyone see my leopard print skirt?
Phil: I saw a leopard headband on the stairs.
Haley: That's it.

I listened to her meringue instructions in the car last week. There was so much whipping and beating I had to pull over.

Haley isn't the only hottie living here. I washed the car in my cheer shorts the other day. I definitely felt eyes on me.

It's gonna take more than that to ruin a morning that started out with a whipped cream smile on my waffle.

Life's too short to be ruled by fear. What do you say we get you the right dryer princess?

Phil: Happy Valentine's Day by the way.
Claire: Ew no, I'm gross and sweaty from running.

I'm gonna miss that Juliana. That woman knows where the bodies are buried.