Charlie: Alan, you don't have to worry. You're thinking about the old Charlie - The old hump'em and dump'em one track mind Charlie.
Alan: Oh, oh right. The old Charlie from way back this morning!
Charlie: I'm serious. I honestly want to start building a relationship.
Alan: Really?
Charlie: Yeah. Get to know someone. Let her get to know me. Have something in common, before we jump into bed.
Alan: Wow, I'm impressed!
Charlie: That I'm growing up?
Alan: No, that you can so easily lie to my face.

Charlie: Alan, you had a perfect night of revenge sex. That's the fourth-best kind of sex you can have!
Alan: Fourth? What are the other...never mind, I don't want to know. Charlie, the problem is that, now that Judith and Herb are over, she thinks that we're... [Jake walks by them on the way to the refrigerator] ...back to square one in dealing with the PTA car...nival.
Charlie: What?
Alan: The-the school carnival that we used to, uh, raise money for. [Jake leaves] [softly]: I don't want Jake to know about me and Judith. [Jake walks back to the refrigerator] Ith...cariot. Judith Ithcariot, who thold our Lord for thirty piethes of thilver.
Jake: What are you talking about?
Alan: Oh, I was just, uh, uh, telling your uncle about this, uh, this great, uh, cartoon. Uh, Daffy Duck and the Greateth Sthory Ever Told.
Jake: Sounds lame.
Alan: Classic Warner Brothers animation. [chuckling]

Charlie: Alan, you know the difference between you and me?
[Charlie falls through the deck]
Alan: Yeah! I wouldn't fire the handyman before he finishes!

Charlie: Alan, you're like an Alzheimer's victim in a whorehouse.
Alan: Excuse me?
Charlie: You're constantly surprised that you've been screwed... and you don't want to pay for it!

Charlie: Alan?
Alan: Yeah?
Charlie: Smack your kid for me.
Alan: Should we really risk more brain damage?
Jake: Thanks for sticking up for me, dad.
Alan: Oh, hey, you'll never guess who I ran into.
Jake: Kobe Bryant?
Alan: No.
Jake: Lauren Conrad?
Alan: No.
Jake: Sean "P. Diddy" Combs?
Alan: What is wrong with you?

Charlie: Alcohol is for people who can afford to lose a few brain-cells.

Charlie: All right, I didn't want to have to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
[goes to the phone]
Berta: What are you gonna do?
Charlie: Something I hoped I'd never have to do.
Rose: You don't mean...
Charlie: I'm afraid so. [on the phone]: Hello? Mom?
[Cut to Alan lying in bed. There's a knock on the door. Alan looks up]
Alan: God, what plague have you set upon me now?
Evelyn: Alan? It's Mommy!
Alan: Good one.

Charlie: All right, look, it doesn't help to whine about it. If you wanna get lost in the woods with Jerky Gerkenheimer, go do it.
Alan: My life is just one big joke to you, isn't it?
Charlie: Actually, it's more of a limerick. There once was a moron named Al, who wanted to camp with his pal... Any chance you can go camping in Nantucket?

Charlie: All right, she [Lydia] might be a bit outspoken, but I happen to find that very attractive.
Jake: She must be dynamite in the sack.
Alan: Where do you get this stuff from?
Jake: Cinemax.
Charlie: Well, not that my sex life is any of your business--
Alan: It's not his business. It-- it's nobody's business. So, uh, what does she do for a living?
Jake: Besides being a stone-cold bee-yotch. [Charlie and Alan stare at him] HBO.

Charlie: All right, then... how about a quickie for old times' sake?
Mia [giggles]: Please. Charlie, I think you're a terrific guy. You're smart, and handsome, and talented...
Charlie: All good arguments for the quickie.

Charlie: An orgy requires a minimum of six people.
Alan: What?
Charlie: It goes (counting on his fingers) masturbation, one-on-one, three-some, two couple swinging, two couple swinging with a looky-loo, (holds up six fingers) orgy's six.

Charlie: And did she [Evelyn] or did she not say that I'm a lazy-ass schlock jingle writer who wasted thirteen years of piano lessons that she paid for by marrying a series of men with large wallets and small penises?
Mia: Yes, that was mentioned. But it's only natural for someone who loves you to want to see you live up to your potential. I mean, do you really want to be known as the guy who writes songs about adult diapers?
Charlie: Hey, it's better than being known as the guy who wears them.

Charlie: And how's your family back in... Davenport, Iowa?
Chelsea: I'm from Champaign, Illinois.
Charlie: You sure?
Chelsea: I'm sure.
Charlie: Bastard set me up!

Charlie: And just so we're clear, my car is cherry, so if you bang it, ding it, dent it, or even change the ass print in the seat, just keep driving 'til you get to Mexico and bury yourself in the desert.
Alan: I understand your concern, and trust me, I will be very careful.
Charlie: You know, you're taking the fun out of this!

Charlie: And, uh, uh, this is my housekeeper, Berta. Berta, Lydia.
Berta: Choose your words carefully, slim.
Lydia: "Slim?" Why, thank you. I watch what I eat.
Berta: Going in or coming out?