Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House

Jim Blandings:
It's a conspiracy, I tell you. The minute you start they put you on the all-American sucker list. You start out to build a home and wind up in the poorhouse. And if it can happen to me, what about the guys who aren't making $15,000 a year? The ones who want a home of their own. It's a conspiracy, I tell you - -against every boy and girl who were ever in love.

Bill Cole:
You've been taken to the cleaners, and you don't even know your pants are off.

Gussie:
If you ain't eatin' Wham, you ain't eatin' ham.

Muriel Blandings:
I refuse to endanger the lives of my children in a house with less than four bathrooms.

Jim Blandings:
For 1,300 dollars they can live in a house with three bathrooms and ROUGH IT.

Joan:
Oh look. Mother's diary. It's slightly torrid.

Jim Blandings:
What's with this kissing all of a sudden? I don't like it. Every time he goes out of this house, he shakes my hand and kisses you.

Muriel Blandings:
Would you prefer it the other way around?

Jim Blandings:
Nothing, Mary. Just a private joke between me and whoever my analyst is going to be.

Bill Cole:
The next time you're going to do anything or say anything or buy anything, think it over very carefully. When you're sure you're right, forget the whole thing.

Bill Cole:
I kind of felt that he kind of felt that if I kind of told you that you'd know that he knew that you knew... or something.

Muriel Blandings:
Why don't you use an electric razor?

Jim Blandings:
Can't get used to them.

Muriel Blandings:
Silly. Bill Cole's been using one for years.

Jim Blandings:
He hasn't got my beard.

Muriel Blandings:
Bill's beard is just as coarse and tough . . .

Jim Blandings:
I am not interested in discussing the grain and texture of Bill Cole's hair follicles before I've had my breakfast.

Betsy Blandings:
Ms. Stellwagon has assigned each of us to take a classified ad and write a human-interest theme about it. I found one typical of the disintegration of our present society.

Jim Blandings:
I wasn't aware of the fact that our society *was* disintegrating.

Betsy Blandings:
I wouldn't expect you to be, Father. Ms. Stellwagon says that middle class people like us are all too prone to overlook . . .

Jim Blandings:
Muriel, I know this is asking a lot, but just one morning I would like to sit down and have breakfast without social significance.

Muriel Blandings:
Jim, you really must take more interest in your children's education.

Joan:
Can't squeeze blood from a turnip.

Muriel Blandings:
You remember Bunny Funkhouser, dear, that clever young interior decorator that we met at the Collins' cocktail party.

Jim Blandings:
You mean that young man with the open-toed sandals? What about him?

Muriel Blandings:
Well, you know how long we've said we've got to do something about fixing up this apartment. Well, a couple of weeks ago, he called, and I asked him to come over, and he had some simply wonderful ideas, and I didn't want to bother you with sketches and estimates until I knew whether we could afford it. So I sent them over to Bill.

Jim Blandings:
How much?

Muriel Blandings:
What's the point in asking how much until you know what you're going to get?

Jim Blandings:
I've seen Bunny Funkhouser. I *know* what I'm going to get.

Muriel Blandings:
Look, here's how he sees our living room. Isn't it charming?

Jim Blandings:
What's that? A shoe-shine stand?

Muriel Blandings:
It's a cobbler's bench, dear. The room's Colonial. Breakfront. Hooked rug. Student's lamp. Pie Cooler. And over here is a Martha Washington desk.

Jim Blandings:
And where do I keep my powdered wig?

Smith:
You're buying a piece of American history.

Jim Blandings:
You don't say. How's that?

Smith:
Why, first year she was built, General Gates stopped right here to water his horses.

Jim Blandings:
Old General Gates, huh? Civil War.

Smith:
Huh? Revolutionary War.

Jim Blandings:
Oh, *that* General Gates.

Jim Blandings:
It just so happened that General... uh... Gates stopped right there at that very house to water his horses.

Bill Cole:
I don't care if General Grant dropped in for a scotch and soda. You're still getting rooked.

Jim Blandings:
That was a different war!

Gussie:
The house and the lilac bush at the corner are just the same age, Bill. If a lilac bush can live and be so old, so can a house. It just needs someone to love it, that's all.

Bill Cole:
It's a good thing there are two of you. One to love it and one to hold it up.

Muriel Blandings:
Darling, I'm going out to the place this afternoon. Bill's driving me up to see about the landscaping.

Jim Blandings:
That'll be nice... What do you mean Bill's driving you?

Muriel Blandings:
Why do you always say 'what do you mean' when you know perfectly well what I mean and you mean?

Jim Blandings:
I mean the moment I turn my back, Bill Cole's driving you someplace or something.

Muriel Blandings:
He's only being helpful.

Jim Blandings:
I thought he was a lawyer. Why isn't he out suing somebody?

Jim Blandings:
What about the windows?

Simms:
I'm afraid there's been a little slip up. These windows seem to belong to a Mr. Landing in Fishkill. I spoke to him on the phone this morning.

Jim Blandings:
Well, has he got mine?

Simms:
No, he seems to have the windows that belong to a Mr. Blandworth in Peekskill.

Jim Blandings:
Where are *my* windows?

Simms:
Well, near as we can find out, they've either been sent to a Mr. Banning in Danbury, or a Mr. Bamburger in Waterbury.

Jim Blandings:
That's fine. For the rest of my life, I'll have to get up at 5 in the morning to catch the 6:15 train to get to my office at 8. It doesn't even open until 9, and I never get there until 10!

Muriel Blandings:
Well, maybe if you start earlier, you can leave the office earlier.

Jim Blandings:
To get home earlier, to get to bed earlier, to get up earlier, I suppose.

Bill Cole:
Maybe you can get the railroad to push the train up to 4:15. Then you won't have to go to bed at all.