Nick: Are you okay? You look gray.
Schmidt: I didn't sleep. I was up preparing for an epic day of wedding decisions. I'm calling it D-Day. Of course, in this situation, the "D" stands for "decisions," and unlike the other D-Day, it will not be a walk on the beach.
Jess: That's incredibly offensive.
Schmidt: I know.

Schmidt: Ah. Jess, thank you. You know, I haven't had two hours of uninterrupted sleep since a month ago when Cece made me watch An Inconvenient Truth.

Cece: Hey, guys. So, how did it go today?
Jess: Good. We got a lot accomplished. But, um... how do I say this? Um... I made out with Schmidt's dad.
Cece: [quietly] You did what?
Schmidt: She lulled me to sleep and then went rogue.
Cece: You did what?
Jess: If your files had been clearly marked, none of this would be happening. You need better labels.
Schmidt: Everything is perfectly clear. Chairs are color-coded under chartreuse, because it sounds like "chair truths." Salmon mongers are filed under fuchsia, because I "re-fuchsia" to serve salmon at this wedding. The groomsmen tuxes are under magenta, because "ma-gentlemen" will be wearing the dope tuxes.
Cece: Is he a good kisser?
Schmidt: Don't ask that, plea... And don't you answer it.
Cece: [stammers] It's withdrawn. I'm just freaking out right now.

Schmidt: Nick, I need a drink. It'd better be green, sweet and in a fun glass.

Nick: Oh, finally. Winston, where have you been? I've been waiting an hour.
Winston: Work was crazy, okay? I busted a poker room, which was a front for a crack house, which was a front for a brothel. It was a crime turducken.

Jess: Okay, why don't we take this horrible, horrible, gross mistake into something positive? What if this is a sign that maybe you should reach out and talk to your dad again?
Schmidt: Why? Why would I talk to my dad? He left my mom and basically missed my entire childhood. And every time I did invite him to something, he never showed up: middle school graduation, high school graduation, when I played the titular role in a stage adaptation of Uncle Buck.

Schmidt: I need your advice on these wedding invites. I like calligraphy option number two; it looks like a Bone Thugs album.
Jess: This looks like an ad for a bong company. I like option one better.
Winston: You know what would be nice? A wedding invitation engraved on a plate. [chuckling] What a magical wedding that would be.
Schmidt: You two are imbeciles. Anybody with taste and sophistication would always choose option number two.

Jess: I can help with wedding stuff. Just lighten the load a little bit. Sometimes I think I was bred in a lab to help people.
Winston: You know what else they bred in the lab? Pugs.

Nick: I'm a bartender and owner. You know how many balls I have to juggle now?
Winston: Man, those are baby balls. I'm a cop. I spend my day working the city's balls.
Nick: Listen to yourself.
Winston: Those balls are big.
Nick: Listen to yourself.
Winston: I'm listening to myself, Nick. Your balls, in comparison to my balls, that you have to deal with, that I have to handle...

Jess: [over video chat] All right. I'm ready to taste cakes.
Schmidt: Okay, great.
Jess: This is gonna be fun.
Schmidt: I'm sorry, fun? Baking scones with Winston is fun. This is serious, Jess.
Jess: Mmm! Soft and sweet.
Schmidt: What a relief it's not hard and salty. How is the nose? Does it have a clean finish, or would you say it's a long cake? Describe the cake's legs in terms of mouth feel.
Jess: Bro, I spent two hours at the chair place. You picked nothing. You negotiated with the florist until all three of us were crying.
Schmidt: Let's start again and put the camera close to the frosting. And for God's sakes, please, be mindful of your friggin' shadow.