Sundays 8:00 PM on FOX

Oh, no! 239 Pounds? I'm a whale! Why was I cursed with this weakness for snack treats? Well, from now on, exercise every morning Homer.


239 Pounds! Oh, I'm a blimp. Why are all the good things so tasty? From now on, exercise every morning!


Milhouse: Come on, Bart. You're gonna make me a print, aren't you?
Bart: Will you swear not to let another living soul get a copy of this photo?
Milhouse: Okay!
Bart: Cross your heart and hope to die?
Milhouse: Yep!
Bart: Stick a needle in your eye?
Milhouse: Yep!
Bart: Jam a dagger in your thigh?
Milhouse: Yep!
Bart: Eat a horse manure pie?
Milhouse: (Thinks for a second) Yep!
Bart: Well, okay.

I have something to say to all the sons out there. To all the boys, to all the men, to all of us. It's about women, and how they are not mere objects with curves that make us crazy. No, they are our wives, they are our daughters, our sisters, our grandmas, our aunts, our nieces and nephews. Well, not our nephews. They are our mothers. And you know somethin', folks? As ridiculous as this sounds, I would rather feel the sweet breath of my beautiful wife on the back of my neck as I sleep, than stuff dollar bills into some stranger's G-string. Am I wrong? Or am I right?


Barney: If you get hungry in the middle of the night, there's an open beer in the fridge.
(Homer gazes out of Barney's window.)
Homer: Look, Barney. See the row of tiny lights up there? The middle one is my house. Someone must have left the porch light on.
Barney: Hey, that's rough, pal. (Dials phone) Hello, Marge. You left your damn porch light on!
Homer: Barney!
Barney: Homer's not made of money, you know!
Marge: Who is this?
(Homer takes the phone away from Barney.)
Homer: Don't listen to him, Marge. He's--
Marge: Oh, it's you. Hmph. (Hangs up phone.)
Homer: Oh

Marge: Homer, you don't even know why you're apologizing.
Homer: Yes, I do. Because I'm hungry, my clothes are smelly, and I'm tired.

Waiter: Ahoy! I spy the children's menu.
Bart: Ahoy, this place bites.
Marge: Bart!
Waiter: So, what's it going to be, me little bucko?
Bart: (Chuckles) Hmm, let's see. This evening I shall go for the...squid platter--
Lisa: Ewww!
Bart: --with extra tentacles, please.

Homer: By the way, this Friday night I'm gonna be attending a little get together with the boys at work. Eugene Fisk is marrying some girl in Valve Maintenance.
Marge: Homer, is this some kind of stag party?
Homer: No, no, Marge. It's gonna be very classy. A tea-and-crumpets kind of thing.
Marge: Hmm. Eugene Fisk. Isn't he your assistant?
Homer: No! (Mumbles) My supervisor.
Marge: Didn't he used to be your assistant?
Homer: Hey! What is this, the Spanish Exposition?
Marge: Sorry, Homer.

Marge: So, how was the office birthday party?
Homer: Oh, it was delightful. The frosting on the cake was this thick. (Uses thumb and index finger to indicate the thickness.) And Eugene Fisk--my poor sucker of an assistant--didn't know the fruit punch was spiked, and he really made an ass of himself putting the moves on the new girl in Valve Maintenance. Ha, ha, ha.
Marge: Does this girl like him?
Homer: Pffft. I have to warn you, Marge. I think the poor young thing has the hots for Yours Truly.
Marge: Homer!
Homer: Just keepin' you on your toes, babe.

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