Gordon: [delivering pizza] Hey Mr. Harper.
Charlie: Oh, hey Gordon! It's been a long time.
Gordon: Yeah, two years.
Charlie: So what have you been up to?
Gordon: Well, I finished night school, got my business degree, met an amazing girl and got married, landed a great job as a stock brocker, the company went under, my wife left me and - uh - that'll be 28.50.
Charlie: Oh, man I'm sorry. You want a drink?
Gordon: Why stop now?

Gordon: Where do you guys want me to put these [pizzas]?
Alan: Oh, uh, here, let me, uh, move the snickerdoodles.
Gordon: [sighs] Snickerdoodles.
Alan: You don't like them?
Gordon: No, no, I do. It's just that my wife used to call me her little snickerdoodle.
Charlie: You're kidding.
Gordon: Well, no, not all of me. It was her little nickname for my, uh... [awkward chuckle]
Jerome: Oh, that is a terrible name for a penis.
Gordon: Oh, yeah? What did your wife call yours?
Jerome: Mr. Roundtree. [everyone stares] Richard Roundtree? The guy who played Shaft? [everyone murmurs in agreement]
Alan: That's way better than "snickerdoodle".
Herb: Judith calls mine "that thing".
Alan: As in, "Get that thing away from me"?
Herb: Yeah, how did you know?
Alan: Just a guess.

Herb: Hey, Charlie, I've got a question for you.
Charlie: Yeah.
Herb: The hotel I'm staying at has pay-per-view adult movies.
Charlie: Uh-huh.
Herb: Whatever happened to pubic hair?
Charlie: Gone the way of the dodo bird, my friend.
Herb: I mean, I can understand it with the ladies, but what's the deal with the fellas? It's like with an ugly house: a little shrubbery helps the curb appeal.
Charlie: I don't have an answer for you, Herb.
Herb: What about you? Do you trim the old hedges?
Charlie: Yep. They're shaped like Disney characters.

Herb: Well, uh, remember that advice you gave me about how to handle Judith?
Charlie: Oh, gee, Herb, that wasn't so much advice as, you know, social satire.
Herb: Well, it worked out great.
Charlie: Really? She bought that "king of the castle" crap?
Herb: No, she kicked my ass out. But the thing is, talking to you and seeing how you live, I'm convinced I'm better off single.
Charlie: Is that so?
Herb: Oh, yeah, I mean, uh, why chew on one chicken wing when you can eat from the whole bucket?
[after seeing Jake's shoe stuck to the coffee table]

Jake [to Charlie]: You up for an R-rated movie? Boobies, no violence.

Jake: I still don't understand why it's called Back to the Future.
Alan: Because they're stuck in the past, and they have to get back...
Jake: Home.

Jake: I was trying to research cars, but you wouldn't believe what comes up when you Google "Hummer".
Charlie: Actually, I would.

Jake: No cookies? What the hell is going on around here?!
Alan: Hey, watch your mouth!
Jake: I am watching it. It's empty. I need dessert!

Jake: See you later.
Charlie: Where you going?
Jake: Down to the pier with Celeste.
Herb: Who's Celeste?
Jake: My girlfriend. She lives next door.
Herb: She pretty?
Jake: She's gorgeous, and smart and popular.
Herb: No kidding.
Charlie: We don't get it either.
Alan: Maybe she's punishing her father.
Jake: Let's hope so!

Jake: Well, they [Judith and Herb] are fighting a lot.
Alan: They're fighting?
Jake: Yep. Thirty-one.
Charlie: Thirty-one?
Jake: It's what you get when you add twenty-four and seven. You know, they're fighting all the time, 24/7? Thirty-one?
Charlie: I'm not gonna make it three months, Alan.

Jake: What if I flunk out? Do I have to give the car back?
Evelyn: No, sweetheart, what makes you think you'll flunk out?
Jake: Well, history. Right now there's a 60/60 chance I'm gonna have to repeat the eighth grade.
Evelyn: 60/60, huh?
Jake: At least. It could be 70/40.
Evelyn: Well, we can rule out the Ivy League.
Jake: Is that good?
Evelyn: For the Ivy League.

Jake: Where's Uncle Charlie?
Chelsea: Said he had some sort of meeting.
Jake: That means poker or strip club. [everyone in the kitchen stares at him] I'm sure it's poker.

Jake: You should have seen it, Berta. The paramedics zipped him up in a big plastic bag.
Berta: Is that so?
Jake: It looked like one of those things that delivery guys use to keep pizza hot. I wonder if they got him to the morgue in thirty minutes or less.

Jerome [sobbing]: And after I blew out my knee, my wife left me.
Charlie: Oh, man, I'm sorry.
Jerome: For a placekicker!
Charlie: Ooh, insult to injury.
Jerome: A little tiny dude from Serbia. Not a single vowel in his entire name!
Charlie: Oh, yeah, Grl Zrbnck. That guy could sure split the uprights... in a football manner of speaking.

Judith [sobbing]: How could this happen? How could I blow another marriage?
Alan: Oh, sweetie, you can't blame yourself. Although you are the common denominator.