Life On The Fast Lane

Who wouldn't like a bottle of real French perfume all the way from gay Paree? Four bucks, plus tax.

Oh, big deal. Dry macaroni, spray paint and glue. Whoopie.

Litha, my 'ongue' is 'uck' in the 'eaters.' My 'ongue'!

My birthday? It's my birthday? - No!

But it's a surprise. You know, it's such a beautiful morning, I think I'll take a little stroll around the block.

I think he forgot, Mom. - Mm-hmm.

Good morning, consumers. The Springfield Mall is now open for your spending needs.

Too salty. Um... nah. Hmm? Nah, too corny. Too exciting.

And when he surprised you with the Connie Chung calendar?

And the kids. - Fair enough. - And my sisters. - Doh!

Havin' my baby / What a lovely way to say how much you love me / Nearer my God to thee

34 years old. Time enough to start over with a new man. Someone who eats with his mouth shut.

Do you know the Heimlich Maneuver? - No. - Good.

What the hell are you talking about? There's gallons of it! But this occasion is already so special. If we made it any more special, we might end up making it less special.

It's hard for me to judge since I've never bowled in my life!

I couldn't very well chop your hand off and bring it to the store.

You can't take it back. You had your name engraved on it! - So you'd know it was from me!

What? But you don't know how to bowl. Oops.

I'm here out of spite. - Can't bowl without a lane.

13 double 'A'? This is the closest I've got. A nine and a fifteen.

A little warm and moist. Ugh!

Oh, no, no. Homer's my... ball's name. - I'm Marge.

Many people have senseless attachments to heavy, clumsy things, such as this Homer of yours.

Pick up Homer. Pick him up. - Now throw. Throw, damn you.

But first of all, you yell, 'The eight-pin is a cop.' - Let it out, Marge. Laugh loud. Laugh out loud. You'll lose weight.

Hot pizza-- the food of kings.

Does the time always drag like this?

Caress it. Experience it. Quite smooth, isn't it, Marge? You could eat off of it. You hungry? Four onion rings!

All right! We're clean!

Sport, dear. It's a sport, you silly thing.

It's really for me. Seventeen-fifty. Enjoy it, my darling.

My mind says,'Stop,' but my heart... and my hips cry,' Proceed.'

Not at Barney's Bowlarama. Away from the thunderous folly of clattering pins.

It's not quite breakfast, it's not quite lunch, but it comes with a slice of cantaloupee at the end. You don't get completely what you would at breakfast, but you get a good meal.

There are ten pins in my heart. You've knocked over eight. Won't you please pick up that spare?

Oh, Bart, don't you see? This is what psychologists call overcompensation. Mom is wracked with guilt because her marriage is failing.

You're in stage two, denial. - No, I'm not. - Yes, you are. - I'm not. I'm not. Am not! - I stand corrected.

I'm a married women. Don't call me that. - No, no, no, no, no. Mimosa is the name of the drink.

Let's hope something runs over her.

You're so naive. They are for lovemaking. - Really? - Yes.

Some divine pinspotter must have placed us side by side. Like two fragile bowling pins-- Standing bravely-- Until inevitably-- We must topple.

Dad, you didn't even say 'ouch.' - Oh, sorry. Ouch.

You told me when something's bothering you and you're too damn stupid to know what to do, just keep your fool mouth shut. At least that way, you won't make things worse. - Hmm. Good advice.

I don't know how you do it. Youjust got a gift, I guess. I've always thought so. I just never mentioned it, but it's time you knew how I feel.

How can I eat it? She made it. It's all I have left.

Tell him I'm going to the backseat of my car with the woman I love, and I won't be back for ten minutes.