All's Fair in Oven War/Quotes

I'm turning this disco into a hockey rink. You mean a honky rink!

Relax, we're just looky-loos. We're only here to compare our lifestyle to our neighbors. Oh, c'mon Marge. It's not fair to compare us to an American household.

Hey, the lady in this picture is hot. She can calamine my hives anytime. That's congresswoman Bella Abzug. Ciao, Bella!

I think you used too much plaster. Oh, now you tell me. I never stopped telling you. So that's what that white noise was.

Same old stuff: meatloaf, casserole, tunaloaf, loaferole, casseloaf... Marge Simpson's wasabi buffalo wings. Ooh, an Eastern twist on a Western New York favorite!

What do you think ? These wings are V.-licious! I'll put this recipe in the Gravity's Rainbow Cookbook right next to The Frying of Latke 49. I agree with my fellow Cornell alumnus. Huzzah for Marge! Huzzah! And how about a huzzah for my husband who paid for our new kitchen? Never!


 * [Bart and Milhouse are listening to Jazz.]

When do they start singing? Well, the Playdude Advisor says the music will get a stewardess to give you a layover. I hope it's Omaha. My grammy lives there.

In the Ovenfresh Bakeoff, clever presentation is as important as taste. So I'm entering my dessert dogs. It's deep fried cookie dough with meringue buns, cherry "ketchup" and caramel "mustard". Mmm... It's dessert, but it's hot dogs, so it's good for you!

Sorry, Ralphie. The Bakeoff rejected your recipe. I wanna be in the bakeoff! There, there. I think your grilled crayon sandwich was delicious. You only took a pretend bite. No, I'm eating it, look.
 * [He swallows it with great difficulty.]

Can you taste the thumbtacks? Aw, crap.


 * [Bart is dressed in a smoking jacket and carrying a pipe.]

Haw Haw! Bart looks different today. Ah, Nelson. Your debonair wit reminds me of a young. Guh? Listen up, ring-a-ding-dingers. I'm throwin' a little sip'n'quip at the Playdude Treehouse. Saturday night, at the top of the ladder. Be there or be square. I want to be a triangle. You're not invited.

It's going to be weird cooking without your tipsy father grabbing me from behind. But I think I'm up to it.

So, whatcha makin', Marge? Well, Stuart, I'm making a dessert that looks like a hot dog, but isn't. You're making a tasty fake? [chuckles] That is so 90s. Why don't we move to Seattle and use slow modems.
 * [Several chefs laugh at Marge.]

Yo, Marge. Your recipe, she's-a pathetic! She is not!

Hey, Bart, me and Mrs. Krabappel, uh, we're going to go play some "backgammon", if you know what I mean. I don't, but I hope you win. Oh, he's gonna win. Some guys like a challenge. Not me.

Listen here, Simpson. Your son has been exposing our kids to adult themes, unabashed dictionaries, and the lesser short fiction of. Adult themes? What are you talking about? Well, my Roddy told a joke about an octopus and a set of bagpipes, and the punchline implied that they fornicated. Ralphie wants to go on the pill. Stupid Bart. Heh heh heh heh heh heh. Bagpipes getting down with an octopus... that's classic.

Come on, Mom. You still have twenty minutes left. You can fix it. You're right! If I can feed a family of five for $12 a week, I can do anything. You feed us on $12 a week? I stretch your father's meatloaf with sawdust.

Even the pope couldn't forgive this pizza... and he's letting a lot slide these days.

Hey, sweetie, is Mom winning? Oh, she'll win the contest, but she'll lose her soul. But she'll win the contest? And lose her soul. But win the contest? [weary] Yes. Woo-hoo! If Marge becomes Auntie Ovenfresh, we'll meet all the food personalities. [Homer imagines himself at a swanky party with Marge and various food mascots] Look! It's Mr. Cashew... the Koobler Dwarfs... Snip, Crinkle and Poof! Twinkle the Kid! I love you! [he hugs Twinkle] Whoa, easy there pardner. [he hugs him harder and cream squeezes out of him] Uh-oh. You killed him! He was my world! [angrily] Blood for cream! Blood for cream!
 * [back in the real world]

[angrily] Blood for cream! Blood for cream!

Our two remaining dishes are "blackened dessert dogs" by Marge Simpson and "Armadillo a la Road" by Brandine No Last Name Given. That was an entry? I thought it was garbage. Just 'cause it was cooked in a garbage can don't make it garbage.

[reading from Playdude] Canned and frozen juices are more popular than ever these days. But, most bachelors we know would prefer to squeeze their own tomatoes. Bachelors are always squeezin' stuff. Would you excuse us, Milton? It's Milhouse. Yeah, and your father's "No House". Now scram.

Bart, I know a father has no right to pry into the life of his ten-year-old son. But what's goin' on up here. I'm just spreadin' the Playdude philosophy. Hi-fis, and gettin' some. Uh, um. What do you think "some" is? Uh... toys? [sighs] I thought I'd never have to do this, but it's time I told you the facts of life. Do you know what a boob is? Oh yeah. Good. That'll save us some time. Okay... why do you think your mother and I sleep in the same bed? Because we're poor. Exactly. And we're poor because we have kids. And the biological method by which children are created by a man and a woman is...
 * [the scene cuts to outside the treehouse]

[horrified] Aaaaaahhh!

[coldly] Congratulations, mom. You seem to have a prescription for success. What a kind, yet oddly ominous, thing to say.

Mom, if I don't have you to look up to, I don't have anyone. Look, I'll be a winner with feet of clay... like. Everyone loves the Mick. I don't want Mickey Mantle. I want my mom. Hey, plenty of kids are going to look up to me when I'm Auntie whatever it is. Right now, people just know me as the wife of the guy who doesn't go to work. Can't you understand that I need this? I guess dad has to be my hero now.
 * [She turns to see Bart huddled in the corner.]

Not if you know what he's been doing. [shudders]

[to Lisa] Thanks honey, for saving me from myself. And Marge, you'll always be the best chef in our house Eh, B.F.D. I've had your scrambled eggs, Homer. The secret ingredient is whiskey. Hey, it keeps the kids quiet.