Monica: Hey, guys. I'm here to pick out my Christmas tree.
Phoebe: Well, look no further. This one's yours.
Monica: Is this the one that I threw out last year?

Ross: Hi, there. How many did you sell?
Charla: I'm not gonna tell you. You're the bad man who broke Sarah's leg.
Ross: Hey, now. That was an accident, okay?
Charla: You're a big scrud.
Ross: What's a scrud?
Charla: Why don't you look in the mirror, scrud?
Ross: I don't have to. I can just look at you.

Chandler: Tell us what happened, Brown Bird Ross.
Ross: I lost. Some little girl loaned her uniform to her 19-year-old sister who went down to the U.S.S. Nimitz and sold over 2000 boxes.

Chandler: How'd the interview go?
Rachel: Oh, I blew it. I wouldn't have even hired me.
Ross: Come here, sweetie. Listen, you're gonna go on, like, a thousand interviews before you get a job. That's not how that was supposed to come out.

Rachel: It's too late. Terry already hired that girl over there. Look at her. She's even got waitress experience. Last night she was [tearing up teaching everybody how to make napkins into [high-pitched squeal] swans.
Ross: That word was "swans."

Rachel: Excuse me, everyone? This is my last night working here and I just wanted to say that I made some good friends here. And it's just time to move on. And no offense to everybody who still works here but you have no idea how good it feels to say that, as of this moment, I will never have to make coffee again.

Ross: [Chandler is inputting numbers into a calculator] Okay, twelve. Twenty-two. Eighteen.
[Chandler laughing]
Ross: What?
Chandler: I spelled out "boobies".

Chandler: Well, seeing that drunk Santa wet himself really perked up my Christmas.

Chandler: Looks like Night of the Living Dead Christmas Trees.