Barney: Not possible. You cannot have sex on a windsurfing board.
Lily: How do you know?
Barney: Glad you asked Lily. I have crafted a list of every vehicle, land-based, aquatic and airborne in which/on which it's possible to have sex. And of those 33 vehicles, I have had sex in/on 31. Windsurfing board, not on the list, not possible. Oh, P.S., in order to hit 33, all I need is bobsled and the Apollo 11 space capsule.
Lily: To get that last one, you'd have to break into the Smithsonian.
Barney: This conversation never happened.

Barney: [answers phone] Go for Barney.
Marshall: Hey, man. It's Marshall. Check your e-mail. Sent you something.
Barney: What is it?
Marshall: Just a new website. Slapcountdown.com.
[Barney goes to the website. The countdown reads 55 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, and 58 seconds]
Barney: What does this mean? Marshall? Ma...?
[Marshall hangs up. Marshall holds his hand to his face, then practices a slap)
Barney: No. [screams] No!

Ted: I just can't believe her. [Ted comes out of the bathroom with his chin shaved] We have this totally amicable split, everything's cool. And she comes back from vacation with that guy? You know what she's doing? She's trying to win the breakup.
Lily: What do you mean "Win the breakup", old timey inventor.
Marshall: What our 21st president, Chester A. Arthur, is trying to say is that in every breakup there are winners and losers.
Lily: It's not a competition. Now, your 80-day balloon race around the world, that was a competition.
Marshall: That's my wife.

[At Marshall and Lily's wedding in 2007:]
Barney: ...dary! Legendary! Dude, I am so excited that you're single again. We're going to conquer New York City. I already have a girl from work lined up for you. Right boob bigger than the left boob, which some choose to look at as bra half empty. I choose to look at as bra half full.

Barney: Of course it's a competition, Lil. How else do you explain... what's his name?
[flashback to earlier at the bar:]
Gael: Gael.
Ted: I'm sorry, Gayle?
Gael: Gael.
Barney: Kyle?
Gael: Gael.
Marshall: Girl?
Robin: It's pronounced "guy-el".
Gael: It's means "joyful". That is why I live my life by bringing joy, good energy and happiness to others. Especially those less fortunate than I.
Ted: I'm sorry. So it's Gayle?

[Ted comes out of the bathroom with just a mustache left of his facial hair]
Ted: What a jerk? I don't go to your stupid country and try to seduce woman with my sexy accent.
Barney: That's a great point, Persian nightclub owner.

Marshall: Gael, are you properly licensed massage therapist?
Gael: What?
Marshall: Are you legally certified by some type of governing entity?
Gael: I train for three years at an institute in Buenos Aires. I have a card. I can show you.
Marshall: Is the card laminated?
Gael: What do you mean "laminated"?
Marshall: Covered in protective plastic.
Gael: Oh, yes.
Marshall: Damn it! [to Lily] He checks out.

Ted: I'm okay. In fact, here's how okay I am. I'm gettin' a tattoo.
Barney: You're not getting a tattoo. It's not you. Ted, you are heading down a dark path.
Ted: That dark path is my driveway.
Barney: But you need a plan and you need a wingman!
[Ted and Amy's taxi drives away]
Barney: This is so going in my blog!

[Barney pats Ted on the back]
Ted: Ow. Why did that hurt so...? [Ted goes into the bathroom] Oh, my God! [returns] I have a tattoo.
Barney: Oh, that's not a tattoo. That, dear boy, is a tramp stamp.
Ted: Tramp stamp?
Barney: You know, a ho tag. Ass antlers. A Panama City license plate.

Ted: Okay. No. See, look, that all sounds good, and we'll still be friends and move on, but... Did he have to be so hot? The guy's an Adonis.
Robin: He's not an Adonis.
Ted: He's the Cadillac of rebound guys. Marshall has a crush on him. The guy's perfect.
Robin: He's not perfect.
Ted: Oh, come on. He's hot, he windsurfs, he massages things. Name one way I'm better than that guy.
Robin: You're bigger.
Ted: Don't patronize me. If anything, he may even be a little bit taller.
Robin: No, Ted, you're bigger.
[cut to Ted at MacLaren's:]
Ted: I win.