Charlie [through the baby monitor]: OK, let's take this thing [diaper] off. Oh, sweet Lord! Did you have Thai food for dinner or what? Man, Babe Ruth took smaller dumps!

Charlie [to Norman]: I am-- I am, I am so sorry. I had no idea that she was married. Believe me, I have a firm rule when it comes to sleeping with married women.
Berta: Yeah, if she's firm enough, he'll do her.
Charlie [to Berta]: I'm sorry, isn't there something around here you could be cleaning?
Berta: I'm guessing you could use a good scrubbing.

Charlie: [on the phone with Alan who is trying to ditch his drunk blind date]: Viagra and a bad ticker. Mom loses more boyfriends that way.
Charlie: Alan, Alan, calm down, calm down! Listen to me. Here's what you do. Take her to a crowded club, pin a warning note on her back as a courtesy to the next guy, and run like hell!

Charlie: [Reading Jake's test answers] Abraham Lincoln signed the Declaration of Independence in....pen. For this you got an A?
Jake: Yeah, everybody did. I love you Uncle Charlie [Runs to his room]
Alan: I think you know what you have to do.
Charlie: Um... break up with Miss Pasternak, right?
Alan: Hell, no, he's [Jake] getting A's. He hasn't gotten an A since nap time in kindergarten.
Charlie: But he's not learning anything!
Alan: Charlie, get your priorities straight; I'm trying to get him into a decent middle school! After he's accepted, he can learn that Sacajawea wasn't... [reading Jake's test answer]: "a bag full of Jawea".

Charlie: A woman's much more relaxed and comfortable in her own surroundings. Plus, the minute she falls asleep, I can hit the bricks.
Alan: That's lovely. It's a shame you don't work for Hallmark.
Charlie: Yeah, I'll bet those guys get laid like crazy.

Charlie: Alan, where'd the money come from?
Alan: I found it.
Charlie: Alan...
Alan: Mom.
Charlie: You traded your soul for a Porsch?
Alan: I didn't trade my soul, and it's Porsche.

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: Berta, Berta, you can't quit being related to somebody. Believe me, I've tried.

Charlie: D-minus? Didn't you read the Cliff Notes?
Jake: That was fifty pages!
Charlie: Unbelievable. Your kid's too lazy to cheat.
Alan: Has it occurred to you that maybe he's too honest to cheat?
Jake: No, I'm lazy.

Charlie: Hmmm, tequila? Checkbook? Sourpuss? Must be alimony time.
Alan: Go away, Charlie.
Charlie: Boy, you'd think for all that money, she'd at least come over and give you a lap dance.
Alan: Leave me alone, Charlie!
Charlie: In fact, you know what would be really funny? Where it says "memo," write "lap dance." Give her something to explain at tax time.

Charlie: I have to tell you something.
Alan: OK.
Charlie: Come on out in the bedroom.
Alan: All right. [leaves the bathroom; Charlie locks the door] What are you doing?
Charlie: You'll understand in a minute.
Alan: Uh, uh, I thought you had to tell me something.
Charlie: I do. There is no "Bad Alan". I'm the one who stole the Silly Putty and put it in your pocket when you weren't looking. Three, four, five, six, seven...
Alan [frantically knocking on the door]: DAMN YOU TO HELL! COME OUT HERE AND DIE LIKE A MAN!
Charlie: What do you know? There is a "Bad Alan."

Charlie: I love the smell of brimstone in the morning.

Charlie: I'm just having some friends over to... smoke cigars, sample some fine single-malt Scotch, and, you know, talk.
Alan: I enjoy all those things. But Scotch makes me a little gassy, but I'll take a Beano and I'm good to go.

Charlie: I'm not saying I hate you, but if I did, it might have something to do with the fact that you're a narcissistic bloodsucker who drove my father into an early grave, after which you married a succession of men who couldn't care less about Alan and me, which was just fine with you 'cause you... looked at us like a couple of dancing monkeys you could just haul out whenever it suited you! And when it didn't, you sent us off to boarding school or camp or that kibbutz in Israel, where we got beat up 'cause we weren't even Jewish! And now... now you show up here every chance you get to lay a guilt trip on me for not appreciating my cold, lonely, loveless childhood!
Evelyn: Well... obviously you're not ready to talk about it.

Charlie: If I don't do something about that website, I'm gonna have to move to Pennsylvania and chase Amish broads.