Joey: I can't believe it's Christmas already. You know, one day you're eating turkey, the next thing you know your Iords are a-leaping and geese are a-laying.
Chandler: Which is why geese are so relaxed this time of year.

Rachel: Nice seizing, gel boy.

Phoebe: Gram? Can I see the pictures of my dad again?
Frances: Oh, sure, sure. How come?
Phoebe: Just, you know, to see him.
Frances: Oh, sure. Here. This is the one of your father in a meadow. And, uh, helping a little boy fly a kite. And here he is at a graduation. Another graduation. Another graduation.
Phoebe: Okay, is this really my father?
Frances: Is it really your fa-? Well, of course it is.
Phoebe: I smell smoke. Maybe because someone's pants are on fire!

Phoebe: In all the years we've been grandmother and granddaughter you've never lied.
Frances: All right, that is not your father. That's just a picture of a guy in a frame.
Phoebe: Oh, God.
Frances: It was your mother's idea. She didn't want you to know your real father because it hurt her so much when he left. I didn't want to go along with it. But then, well, she died and it was harder to argue with her. Not impossible, but harder.

Phoebe: All right. So he's not a famous tree surgeon? And then I guess, okay, he doesn't live in a hut in Burma where there's no phones?
Frances: Last I heard, he was a pharmacist somewhere upstate.
Phoebe: Okay, that makes no sense. Why would the villagers worship a pharmacist?
Frances: Honey.
Phoebe: Oh.
Frances: Anyway, that's all I know. That and this. This is the real him.

Chandler: You know, I remember my father all dressed up in the red suit, the big black boots and the patent leather belt sneaking around downstairs. He didn't want anybody to see him but he'd be drunk, so he'd stumble and crash into something and wake everybody up.
Rachel: Oh, that doesn't sound like a very merry Christmas.
Chandler: Who said anything about Christmas?

Phoebe: Hello, Grandma. If that is, in fact, your real name.

Phoebe: I know. I just wanted to know who he was, you know?
Frances: Yeah, I know. I wasn't completely honest with you when I said I didn't know exactly where he lived.
Phoebe: What do you mean?
Frances: He lives at 74 Laurel Drive in Middletown. If you hit the Dairy Queen, you've gone too far. You can take my cab.

Joey: Rach, these are for you.
Rachel: Wiper blades! I don't even have a car.
Joey: No, but with this new-car smell, you'll think you do!
Chandler: Okay, Pheebs, your turn.
Phoebe: Oh, toilet-seat covers! Is that what you did while I was getting gas? You guys!
Joey: And for Ross, Mr. Sweet Tooth.
Ross: You got me a cola drink?
Chandler: And a lemon-lime!
Ross: Well, this is too much. I feel like I should get you another sweater.
Chandler: And last, but not least. [Chandler hands Monica a pack of condoms]
Joey: They're ribbed for your pleasure! [Ross gives Monica his drinks, takes the condoms]

Phoebe: Oh, my God. Where did you get this?
Ross: Macy's, third floor, home furnishings.
Phoebe: This is my father. This is a picture of my dad.
Chandler: Uh, Pheebs, that's the guy that comes in the frame.
Phoebe: No it isn't. No, it's my dad. All right, I'll show you.
Rachel: Phoebe, I thought your dad was in prison.
Phoebe: No, that's my stepdad. My real dad's the one that ran out on us before I was born.
Rachel: How have you never been on Oprah?
Phoebe: Okay, look, see? This is him. My mother gave me this picture before she died. Same guy!
Monica: Honey, this is a picture of the frame guy posing in front of a bright blue screen with a collie.
Phoebe: It's not a blue screen. It's just. Maybe it was just really clear that day. Okay, I have to talk to my grandmother.