Jess: [on the phone] So I fly you down. You are my gift to Nick. What do you say?
Reagan: I don't know, Jess. I mean, I have a really big pitch tomorrow. It's a treatment for... I mean, the polite term is "gravelly bowel syndrome."

Winston: Let's see. KXHD136.
Schmidt: You memorized the package tracking number, but you didn't know that you could use that number to track the package?
Winston: What?! 9:18 A.M. refused delivery? Did you refuse a package to Retired Rear Admiral Jay Garage-A-Roo?
Schmidt: Listen to what you just asked. Of course I did.
Winston: Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it, Schmidt! I am Retired Rear Admiral Jay Garage-A-Roo! It is my Secret Santa alias.
Schmidt: Oh.
Winston: Yeah. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

Winston: You didn't sign for it!
Schmidt: How was I supposed to sign for Garage-A-Roo's package? You and your dang old aliases. You have a new alias every day, Winston.
Winston: Yes, but you should know it's me!
Schmidt: Garage-A-Roo, Kenneth.
Winston: But it was me clearly! Kenneth Kenneth. Rick Smits, Big Poppy Jones.
Schmidt: These are the dumbest names I've ever heard!
Winston: Pontius Pilate.
Schmidt: AKA idiot. Maybe that truck is still in the neighborhood. Let's go out and try and get it.
Winston: Wait! This just became a Schmidt and a Jay Garage-A-Roo mess-around.
Schmidt: Freakin' Jay Garage-A-Roo.

Deb: Get off my truck.
Winston: Please, it is Christmas Eve... Eve.
Deb: That's right. That's my night. So go home, and wait for your package.
Winston: All right, fine. [chuckles] Okay, whatever.
Schmidt: You know what, Deb, that's where you're wrong. There was a time when we didn't need people like you. There was a time where a man could go into a place, buy a thing and leave with that thing. And you weren't involved at all.
Winston: You lost me, Schmidt. What are you talking about?
Schmidt: Stores, Winston!
Winston: Oh, stores! I remember those.
Deb: Stores? What are you gonna do? Pay sales tax? Park? [laughing]
Schmidt: [knocks over parcels] Stores! Brick and mortar, baby!

Jess: Why isn't Nick gone? It's been four hours. Reagan's on a plane, Secret Santa's in an hour, I'm freaking out...
Robby: Well, you can call me Ice Cube. Because I'm done wrapping.
Jess: That is how you won me over.

Jess: What is Darlene Love doing here?
Robby: Uh, we used to do hot yoga together.
Jess: Oh.

Nick: Well, Jess, Christmas is just so stressful... with the lists and the lines and-and the dancing girls at TV Town Song Room.
Schmidt: TV Town Song Room? Do you mean Radio City Music Hall?
Nick: Yeah.
Schmidt: How could you get so many things wrong in a row?
Nick: At Radio City Music's Hall.

Jess: Three, two, one. Midnight, November 1. Merry Christmas season.

Winston: Excuse me, uh, Deb, we need to check your trunk... we're looking for a package. It is addressed to Retired Rear Admiral Jay Garage-A-Roo.
Schmidt: What a stupid name.
Winston: Tell it to your stupid wife, man... it's one of our inside jokes.
Schmidt: You two don't have inside jokes.
Winston: Man, we got loads of inside jokes! My turtleneck, uh, my trick hip, that "Hok-fooey, Jean Luc!"

Jess: Little reminder... uh, tonight is for Secret Santa gifts only. So, married people, please exchange your gifts at another time.
Cece: Oh, don't worry. Schmidt and I aren't getting each other gifts this year.
Schmidt: Uh-uh.
Nick: Is that 'cause of the Jew thing?
Schmidt: Jew thing? That's just a phrase that falls out of your mouth these days.
[flashback to Nick eating a schmeared bagel:]
Nick: Oh, sorry. I-I took the last Jew thing.