Rachel: My, God, Phoebe. Pottery Barn has ripped off the design of our antique.
Phoebe: Wow. Oh, my God. Well, if they've ripped off our table, ours must be worth much more than one and fifty dollars. Wow. This doesn't even smell like opium.
Ross: Of course not. It smells like wine, which you spilled. And thanks for wrecking my sheet, by the way.
Phoebe: Oh, Ross, calm down. I'll give you the 80 cents.