[at the shoe store]
Alan: How do they feel?
Jake: OK, but they're ugly. They look like old people shoes.
Alan: They're not old people shoes. They're walking shoes.
Charlie: Right, for people who've been walking over eighty-five years.

[Charlie and Jake have snuck in through Jake's window and Alan has found them.]
Alan: [to Jake] Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?
Charlie: I do not. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look in that light?
Alan: I'm not talking to you.
Charlie: Yeah, well, I'm not talking to you either, except for right now, this is me talking to you, but, no longer. [makes pop sound]
Alan: Would you please just... go to sleep?
Charlie: Okey-dokey. [grabs pillow and goes out of view]
Alan [to Jake]: You and I have some talking to do.
Charlie: Will you make up your freaking mind?

[Charlie enters the house late at night. Alan is sitting in the living room.]
Alan: You were with her [Courtney], weren't you?
Charlie: What are you, my wife?
Alan: No, I'm the wedding planner.

[Charlie is hungover and still lying in bed.]
Alan: Charlie, wake up. You need to see this.
Charlie: Can I throw up in it?
Alan: No.
Charlie: Then I don't need to see it.

[Charlie is on the couch, sick]
Charlie: Hello? Anybody here? Anybody gonna take care of good old Charlie? OK, then. [picks up the phone] Time to scrape the bottom of the barrel. [on the phone]: Mommy, I don't feel good!
Evelyn: Charles, don't tell me you've got a case of the Bangkok Drippy-Drip. [to her pedicurist]: No offense.
Charlie: No, it's either a cold or a flu
Evelyn: And this concerns me how?
Charlie: I thought you could make me some soup or put a cold wet cloth on my head.
Evelyn: Oh darling, I'd love to, but, unfortunately, Mommy's sick too
[Evelyn holds her phone up to the pedicurist, who is coughing violently due the the nail polish}
Charlie: That does sound bad.
Evelyn: Oh, it is.
Pedicurist: [In Thai, subtitled] I hate painting the hooves of this white she-bitch.
Charlie: What was that?
Evelyn: Oh, just my delerious fever babble. Bye dear.
[hangs up]

[Charlie is watching a boxing match with Jake, who is unimpressed]
Jake: Boxing sucks.
Charlie :As always, you're entitledto your stupid opinion.
Jake: Why are you making it personal? I didn't make it personal. In ultimate fighting, they kick, they elbow, they get a guy down and smash his head on the floor. These guys just dance around and barely hit each other.
Charlie: OK, OK, listen to me. Boxing is a science. Boxers don't just wail on each other. They strategize, feel each other out, wait for an opening.
Jake: Gay. What's with the little pillows on their hands? Even if they hit each other,it wouldn't hurt. (Charlie hits Jake in the arm with a pillow) Ow!
Charlie: Oh, does that hurt?
Jake: Yeah.
Charlie: Good.

[Evelyn finds Teddy lying dead on Charlie's bed]
Evelyn: You son of a bitch.
Alan: So you weren't the one who was...
Evelyn: Of course not. I already married the man! I just can't believe he'd cheat on me on our wedding day!
Courtney: Excuse me, my father is lying here dead!
Evelyn: With his pants around his ankles and lipstick on his hoo-hoo.

[Herb is gardening]
Charlie: How do you feel about bushes, Herb?
Herb: Well... I like a full bush. The way God intended.
Charlie: I like 'em trimmed.

[Jake takes a strawberry from the wedding cake]
Evelyn: We don't eat from the cake until we cut the cake.
Jake: But I'm still hungry.
Evelyn: Have some cheese!
Jake: Have we cut the cheese?

[Jake tries to sneak out of his bedroom window at Judith's house]
Jake: Where are we going?
Alan: You're going back to your room. And I'm going back to the sweet land of vindication.

[the crime scene investigators dim the lights in Charlie's room to check for semen]
Sloane: My God!
Wes: It's like a Jackson Pollock painting.
Charlie: The ceiling fan's actually a cute story.