Jess: That's not really how I wanted the weekend to go. I thought the worst thing that could happen was someone wouldn't like the cheese I brought. I wanted it to be perfect.
Sam: Jess, when Nick said that you invited them because you were nervous...
Jess: No, don't worry about that.
Sam: Jess, we're not perfect. Like the first time we slept together, like, I didn't even know your real name.
Jess: Kind of a pretty sassy detail.
Sam: Can we just concentrate on the fact that, like, I was tripping pretty hard on absinthe and I said, "No"? To a stripper? I mean, a stripper was like rubbing my leg...
Jess: That's weirdly... the most romantic thing I've ever heard.

Nick: A few announcements. Uh... Angie left. Me.
Jess: What?
Nick: She took the motorcycle, and, uh, a few of my belongings, but I'm still wearing my underwear, so she comes up short-handed in that treasure hunt.
Sam: Seriously?
Jess: Oh, I'm so sorry, Nick.
Sam: I'm sorry, man.
Nick: It's fine; I'm a grown man. I will need a ride home.
Jess: Yeah.
Nick: Obviously. I would love to pitch in with gas, but I don't have any money, so I could pay in "Nick Bucks," fully redeemable for smiles and any one item from my bureau.

Schmidt: Well? I suppose we could just get out and ask any of these street youths.
Winston: I'll let you get out the car first. Go ahead, do your thing, man.
Schmidt: I don't want to ask the wrong person and end up with some sub-par crack. I want the fresh crack, you know? Not some crack that's been laying around all day. Ooh... I'm really starting to schvitz.
Winston: We don't have to do this. Man, we could just turn this car around, forget this ever happened, and get you some frozen yogurt.
Schmidt: I will not let you deny who you are any longer. Not on my watch.

Jess: Just come, Nick. Why not?
Nick: Angie and I are not romantic weekend types.
Jess: Sounds like you need some fresh air in a cabin. [Nick blows a raspberry] You're dating a stripper. I'm dating a tall, handsome doctor. We're both kind of living the dream.

Nick: We're not "dating." What Angie and I have together is pure anarchy in like, a sexy, cool way.
Jess: Oh, yeah?
Nick: Look at what she did while I was sleeping. Look at how cool that is.
Jess: She doodled on your armpit?
Nick: It's not a doodle, it's a tat.
Jess: Of poodle hair?
Nick: It's not poodle hair. It's like the, uh... Anyway, no to the cabin.

Jess: Come on, it'll be fun. Roast marshmallows.
Nick: Yeah. Make a fire.
Nick: Oh, yeah.
Jess: And sleep on a bear rug. You in?
Nick: Ooh, no. Jess, I'm sorry. We're not going this weekend.
Jess: All right. But it's free.
Nick: You say free?
Jess: Yep.
Nick: Yeah, we're 100% in. I'll go pack now.

Nick: Hey, guys. Sorry, we were just unpacking.
Jess: We could hear very clearly. Very clearly.
Sam: Hey, you got a high-pitched scream, man.
Nick: Yeah, I do.

Jess: But I need like, a back story. Like, why am I mad at the can?
Angie: That can is your ex-boyfriend, and, uh, he did not respect your space and, um, thought that your arts and crafts section of your house was ridiculous.
Jess: What?
Angie: And, right, done? Enough?

Nick: That is not crème de menthe. That is, uh, the green fairy right there. It's absinthe.
Angie: Yeah, it's absinthe.
Jess: Absinthe? Absinthe...
Sam: Nice.
Jess: Has killed so many of our most famous painters.

Nick: I can't believe I'm the sober one. That's actually never happened in my life.