Dan: So, what's new around here?
Turk: Carla's pregnant.
Dan: Dude, bummer.
Turk: No, we're trying to have kids.
Dan: Oh, congratulations. That's great. I'm not really a big kid person. Are you guys totally freaking out?
Carla & Turk: No.

J.D.: When I said Elliot would never be into a guy like you, it's because you're a 35-year-old bartender who still lives in our mother's attic and is showing no signs of changing. I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, Dan. I'm telling you this because I think you have the potential to do whatever you want to do with your life. But you have to actually try.
J.D.: [v.o.] And then I got the answer I expected.
Dan: Don't you have to get back to work?

J.D.: Hey.
Dan: Hey, Johnny. You cool if I borrow this suit? I figured I might wear it to that job interview.
J.D.: You know what, man? You might as well just keep it.
Dan: Yeah, I'll keep it. You- You think anyone would ever really hire me?
J.D.: I think you can do whatever you want to do.
Dan: Take it easy, little brother.

Dan: Actually, J.D., I just bought my own house.
J.D.: How could you afford to do that on a part-time bartender salary?
Dan: I flip houses for living now. Turns out I'm really good at this real estate stuff. Probably 'cause it involves not a small amount of lying and double speak.
J.D.: Well, if you're doing so well, how come you made me buy all your lunch?
Turk: Good question, J.D.!
Dan: I was unaware one needed a reason to try and score a free meal.

J.D.: [v.o.] I knew my brother would handle this like he always did when there was an emotional conflict between us.
Dan: Can you work the windows from there?
J.D.: No. Why? [loud fart] Oh, God. Please tell me that that was the horn.
Dan: There's your heated seat, my friend.
J.D.: Oh, God, it's everywhere.

J.D.: I can't believe you two never broke up. Dan was in my tub for four hours, drinking beers and singing "She's Gone."
Dan: How do you take a bath? Okay, I'm gonna get dressed. Hey, Elliot, do you mind if I borrow one of your socks? I seem to have lost my righty in the fray. Oh, there you are, high-flyer.