Robbie: 'You're late.'
Linda: 'I'm sorry - I just couldn't do it.'
Robbie: 'Well, if you need more time, I guess I could wait.'
Linda: 'No - I don't need more time, Robbie. I don't ever want to marry you.'
Robbie: 'Gee, you know that information - really would've been more useful to me YESTERDAY.'
Linda: 'I've been talking with my friends the last few days...'
Robbie: 'Oh, boy, here it comes.'
Linda: '...and I think I've figured out what's been bothering me. I'm not in love with Robbie, now. I'm in love with Robbie, six years ago. Robbie, the lead singer of Final Warning; I used to come watch you when you were in your silk shirt and Spandex pants, and you would sing into the microphone like you were David Lee Roth.'
Robbie: 'I've still got the Spandex; I'll put 'em on right now.'
Linda: 'The point is, I woke up this morning and realized I'm about to get married to a wedding singer? I am never gonna leave Richfield!'
Robbie: 'Why do you need to leave Richfield? We grew up here. All our friends are here; it's the perfect place to raise a family.'
Linda: 'Oh, yeah - sure! Living in your sister's basement with five kids while you're off every weekends doing wedding gigs at a whoppin' sixty bucks a pop?'
Robbie: 'Once again, things that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!'