Phoebe: [playing guitar and singing] I found you in my bed, How'd you wind up there? You are a mystery, Little black curly hair, Little black curly hair, Little black, little black, little black, Little black curly hair.

Phoebe: [playing guitar and singing] Went to the store, Sat on Santa's lap, Asked him to bring my friends, All kinds of crap, Said all you need is, To write them a song, Now you haven't heard it yet, So don't try to sing along, No, don't sing along, Monica, Monica Have a happy Hannukah, Saw Santa Claus, He said hello to Ross, And please tell Joey, Christmas will be snowy, And Rachel and Chandler, [indistinct] Happy holidays, everybody!

Ross: "Joey had an imaginary childhood friend. His name was?"
Monica: Maurice.
Ross: "His profession was?"
Rachel: Space cowboy!
Ross: "What is Chandler Bing's job?" [silence]
Rachel: Oh, gosh, it has something to do with numbers.
Monica: And processing.
Rachel: He carries a briefcase.
Ross: Ten seconds. You need this or you lose the game.
Monica: It has something to do with transponding.
Rachel: Oh, oh! He's a transpon- transponster.
Monica: That's not even a word! *beep*
Monica & Rachel: Noooooooo!

Ross: "According to Chandler, what phenomenon scares the bejesus out of him?"
Monica: Michael Flatley, Lord of the Dance.
Ross: That is correct.
Joey: The lrish jig guy?
Chandler: His legs flail about as if independent from his body!

Monica: Look, I hate this as much as you, but if it makes you feel any better this is all your fault.
Rachel: What?
Monica: Chanandler Bong. Come on, we steal that TV Guide every week.
Chandler: I knew it!